"'Tis wonderful!" cried D'Artagnan, astounded. "Go on, my friend; I am listening to you with admiration."

"This Coquelin sketched my arm on the glass"

"I beg your pardon — Poquelin."

"^What did I say, then?"

"You said Coquelin."

"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."

"'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.

"Perfectly; and Pocquenard drew me on the glass."

"Poquelin, my friend."

"Poquelin — you are right. Stay; decidedly I prefer calling him Volière."

"Yes; and then it was over, wasn't it?"

"During that time Volière drew me on the mirror."

" 'Twas delicate in him."

"I much like the plan; it is respectful, and keeps every one in his place."

"And there it ended?"

"Without a soul having touched me, my friend."

"Except the three garçons who supported you."

"Doubtless; but I have, I think, already explained to you the difference there is between supporting and measuring."

" 'Tis true," answered D'Artagnan, who said afterward, to himself, "I' faith, I greatly deceive myself, or I have been the means of a good windfall to that rascal Molière,