“‘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 the soundest 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.”
“‘Another, my man,’ cried he. A third approached. ‘Support monsieur by the waist,’ said he. The garcon complied.”
“So that you were at rest?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Perfectly; and Pocquenard drew me on the glass.”
“Poquelin, my friend.”