"Oh yes! I did not make the same reflection you have done. I said to myself: 'Since my feet have entered my boots ten times, there is no reason why they should not go in an eleventh.'" "Allow me to tell you, my dear Porthos, that, on this occasion, you failed in your logic." "In short, then, they placed me opposite to a part of the room which was partitioned; I tried to get my boot on; I pulled it with my hands, I pushed with all the strength of the muscles of my leg, making the most unheard-of efforts, when suddenly, the two tags of my boot remained in my hands, and my foot struck out like a catapult." "Catapult! how learned you are in fortifications, dear Porthos." "My foot darted out like a catapult, and came against the partition, which it broke in; I really thought that, like Samson, I had demolished the temple. And the number of pictures, the quantity of china, vases of flowers, carpets, and window-poles, which fell down was really wonderful." "Indeed!" "Without reckoning that, on the other side of the partition, was a small table laden with porcelain--" "Which you knocked over?" "Which I dashed to the other side of the room," said Porthos, laughing. "Upon my word, it is, as you say, astonishing," replied D'Artagnan, beginning to laugh also; whereupon Porthos laughed louder than ever. "I broke," said Porthos, in a voice half-choked from his increasing mirth, "more than three thousand francs worth of china--oh! oh! oh!" "Good!" said D'Artagnan. "I smashed more than four thousand francs worth of glass--oh! oh! oh!" "Excellent." "Without counting a luster, which fell on my head and was broken into a thousand pieces--oh! oh! oh!" "Upon your head?" said D'Artagnan, holding his sides. "On the top." "But your head was broken, I suppose?" "No, since I tell you, on the contrary, my dear fellow, that it was the luster which was broken like glass, as it was, indeed." "Ah! the luster was glass, you say." "Venetian glass! a perfect curiosity, quite matchless, indeed, and weighed two hundred pounds." "And which fell upon your head!" "Upon my head. Just imagine, a globe of crystal, gilded all over, the lower part beautifully incrusted, perfumes burning at the top, and jets from which flame issued when they were lighted." "I quite understand; but they were not lighted at the time, I suppose?" "Happily not, or I should have been set on fire." "And you were only knocked down flat, instead?" "Not at all." "How, not at all?" "Why the luster fell on my skull. It appears that we have upon the top of our heads an exceedingly thick crust." "Who told you that, Porthos?" "The doctor. A sort of dome which would bear Notre-Dame, at Paris." "Bah!" "Yes, it seems that our skulls are made in that manner." "Speak for yourself, my dear fellow, it is your own skull that is made in that manner, and not the skulls of other people."