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?"

"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?"

"Because I have lately had my chateau of Pierrefonds which was gray with
age, plastered white."

"Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "and white is more cheerful."

"Yes, but it is less august, as Aramis tells me. Fortunately there are
dealers in black as well as white. I will have Pierrefonds replastered
in black; that's all there is about it. If gray is handsome, you
understand, my friend, black must be superb."

"Dame!" said D'Artagnan, "that appears logical."

"Were you never at Vannes, D'Artagnan?"

"Never."

"Then you know nothing of the city?"

"Nothing."

"Well, look!" said Porthos, raising himself in his stirrups, which made
the fore-quarters of his horse bend sadly--"do you see that corner, in
the sun, yonder?"

"Yes, I see it plainly."

"Well, that is the cathedral."

"Which is called?"

"Saint-Pierre. Now look again--in the faubourg on the left, do you see
another cross?"

"Perfectly well."

"That is Saint-Paterne, the parish preferred by Aramis."

"Indeed!"

"Without doubt. Saint-Paterne, you see, passes for having been the first
bishop of Vannes. It is true that Aramis pretends he was not. But he is
so learned that that may be only a paro--a para---"

"A paradox," said D'Artagnan.

"Precisely; thank you! my tongue trips, I am so hot."

"My friend," said D'Artagnan, "c