"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 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 towards the king's table, and Louis
rose at his approach. Everybody got up at the same time, including
Porthos, who was just finishing an almond-cake capable of making the jaws
of a crocodile stick together. The supper was over.


Chapter XV: