eems to me to be too precious to be
so badly tenanted."

"Ah! gentlemen," said the king, indicating Porthos by a gesture, "here
is indeed a model of gastronomy. It was in such a manner that our
fathers, who so well knew what good living was, used to _eat_, while
we," added his majesty, "do nothing but tantalize with our stomachs."
And as he spoke, he took the breast of a chicken with ham, while Porthos
attacked a dish of partridges and quails. The cup-bearer filled his
majesty's glass. "Give M. du Vallon some of my wine," said the king.
This was one of the greatest honors of the royal table. D'Artagnan
pressed his friend's knee. "If you could only manage to swallow the half
of that boar's head I see yonder," said he to Porthos, "I shall believe
you will be a duke and peer within the next twelvemonth."

"Presently," said Porthos, phlegmatically; "I shall come to that by and
by."

In fact it was not long before it came to the boar's turn, for the king
seemed to take pleasure in urging on his guest; he did not pass any
of the dishes to Porthos until he had tasted them himself, and he
accordingly took some of the boar's head. Porthos showed that he could
keep pace with his sovereign; and, instead of eating the half, as
D'Artagnan had told him, he ate three-fourths of it. "It is impossible,"
said the king in an undertone, "that a gentleman who eats so good a
supper every day, and who has such beautiful teeth, can be otherwise
than the most straightforward, upright man in my kingdom."

"Do you hear?" said D'Artagnan in his friend's ear.

"Yes; I think I am rather in favor," said Porthos, balancing himself on
his chair.

"Oh! you are in luck's way."

The king and Porthos continued to eat in the same manner, to the great
satisfaction of the other guests, some of whom, from emulation, had
attempted to follow them, but were obliged to give up half-way. The
king soon began to get flushed and the reaction of the blood to his face
announced that the moment of repletion had arrived. It was then that
Louis XIV., instead of becoming gay and cheerful, as most good livers
generally do, became dull, melancholy, and taciturn. Porthos, on the
contrary, was lively and communicative. D'Artagnan's foot had more than
once to remind him of this peculiarity of the king. The dessert now
made its appearance. The king had ceased to think anything further of
Porthos; he turned his eyes anxiously towards the entrance-door, and
he was heard oc