"Ah! true. This Poquelin, then, sketched my arm on the glass; but he took his time over it; he kept looking at me a good deal. The fact is, that I was very handsome. 'Does it weary you?' he asked.
"'A little,' I replied, bending a little in my hands, 'but I could yet hold out an hour.'
"'No, no, I will not allow it; the willing fellows will make it a duty to support your arms, as of old, men supported those of the prophet.'
"'Very good,' I answered.
"'That will not be humiliating to you?'
"'My friend,' said I, 'there is, I think, a great difference between being supported and being measured.'"
"The distinction is full of sense," interrupted D'Artagnan.
"Then," continued Porthos, "he made a sign; two lads approached; one supported my left arm, while the other, with infinite address, supported my right arm.
"'Another, my man,' cried he. A third approached. 'Support monsieur by the waist,' said he. The garçon complied.
"So that you were at rest?" asked D'Artagnan.