"Ah! that is possible," said Porthos. "And now I have received an explanation how it is that doorways are made too narrow, let us return to the subject of Mouston's fatness. But see how the two things apply to each other. I have always noticed that ideas run parallel. And so, observe this phenomenon, D'Artagnan. I was talking to you of Mouston, who is fat, and it led us on to Madame du Vallon———"
"Who was thin?"
"Hum! Is it not marvelous?"
"My dear friend, a savant of my acquaintance, Monsieur Costar, has made the same observation as you have, and he calls the process by some Greek name which I forget."
"What! my remark is not then original?" cried Porthos, astounded. "I thought I was the discoverer."
"My friend, the fact was known before Aristotle's days—that is to say, nearly two thousand years ago."
"Well, well, 'tis no less true," said Porthos, delighted at, the idea of having concurred with the sages of antiquity.
"Wonderfully—but suppose we return to Mouston. It seems to me, we have left him fattening under our very eyes."
"Yes, monsieur," said Mouston.
"Well," said Porthos, "Mouston fattened so well that he gratified all my hopes by reaching my standard; a fact of which I was well able to convince myself by seeing the rascal, one day, in a waistcoat of mine, which he had turned into a coat—a waistcoat, the mere embroidery of which was worth a hundred pistoles."
"'Twas only to try it on, monsieur," said Mouston.
"From that moment I determined to put Mouston in communication with my tailors, and to have him measured instead of myself."
"A capital idea, Porthos; but Mouston is a foot and a half shorter than you."
"Exactly! They measured him down to the ground, and the end of the skirt came just below my knee."
"What a wonder you are, Porthos! Such a thing could happen only to you."
"Ah! yes; pay your compliments; there is something to do it upon. It was exactly at that time—that is to say, nearly two years and a half ago—that I set out for Belle-Isle, instructing Mouston (so as always to have, in every event, a pattern of every fashion) to have a coat made for himself every month."
"And did Houston neglect complying with your instructions? Ah! that would not be right, Mouston.
