Porthos seemed to breathe more freely.
“And what has happened to you, my dear Porthos?” continued d’Artagnan.
“Why, on making a thrust at my adversary, whom I had already hit three times, and whom I meant to finish with the fourth, I put my foot on a stone, slipped, and strained my knee.”
“Truly?”
“Honor! Luckily for the rascal, for I should have left him dead on the spot, I assure you.”
“And what has became of him?”
“Oh, I don’t know; he had enough, and set off without waiting for the rest. But you, my dear d’Artagnan, what has happened to you?”