“Grace has touched him,” said Porthos.
“Bravo,” said D’Artagnan, “that redoubles my desire to see my dear old friend.” And he spurred his horse, which sprang off into a more rapid pace.
“Peste!” said Porthos, “if we go on at this rate, we shall only take one hour instead of two.”
“To go how far, do you say, Porthos?”
“Four leagues and a half.”
“That will be a good pace.”
“I could have embarked you on the canal, but the devil take rowers and boat-horses! The first are like tortoises; the second like snails; and when a man is able to put a good horse between his knees, that horse is better than rowers or any other means.”
“You are right; you above all, Porthos, who always look magnificent on horseback.”
“Rather heavy, my friend; I was weighed the other day.”
“And what do you weigh?”