the breast of a chicken, with ham, while Porthos
attacked a dish of partridges and land-rails. The cup-bearer filled his
majesty's glass. "Give M. de Valon 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 it
by-and-by."

In fact it was not long before it came to the boar's turn, for the king
seemed to take a 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 had been obliged to give up on the 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 toward the entrance-door, and he
was heard occasionally to inquire how it happened that Monsieur de
Saint-Aignan was so long in arriving. At last, at the moment when his
majesty was finishing a pot of preserved plums with a deep sigh,
Saint-Aignan appeared. The king's eyes, which had become somewhat dull,
immediately began to sparkle. The comte advanced toward the king's
table, and Louis aro