“Three hundred-weight!” said Porthos, proudly.
“Bravo!”
“So that you must perceive, I am forced to choose horses whose loins are straight and wide, otherwise I break them down in two hours.”
“Yes, giant’s horses you must have, must you not?”
“You are very polite, my friend,” replied the engineer, with affectionate majesty.
“As a case in point,” replied D’Artagnan, “your horse seems to sweat already.”
“Dame! It is hot! Ah, ah! do you see Vannes now?”
“Yes, perfectly. It is a handsome city, apparently.”
“Charming, according to Aramis, at least, but I think it black; but black seems to be considered handsome by artists: I am sorry for it.”
“Why so, Porthos?”