The order was immediately obeyed. Then, continuing the conversation, he said: "And you do not find the lamb too fat?"
"No, sire; the fat falls down at the same time as the gravy does, and swims on the surface: then the servant who carves removes the fat with a spoon, which I have had expressly made for that purpose."
"Where do you reside?" inquired the king.
"At Pierrefonds; where is that, M. de Valon--near Belle-Isle?"
"Oh, no, sire; Pierrefonds is in the Soissonnais."
"I thought you alluded to the lamb on account of the salt marshes."
"No, sire; I have marshes which are not salt, it is true, but which are not the less valuable on that account."
The king had now arrived at the _entremets_, but without losing sight of Porthos, who continued to play his part in the best manner.
"You have an excellent appetite, M. de Valon," said the king, "and you make an admirable guest at table."
"Ah, sire, if your majesty were ever to pay a visit to Pierrefonds, we would both of us eat our lamb together; for your appetite is not an indifferent one, by any means."
D'Artagnan gave Porthos a severe kick under the table, which made Porthos color up.
"At your majesty's present happy age," said Porthos, in order to repair the mistake he had made, "I was in the musketeers, and nothing could ever satisfy me then. Your majesty has an excellent appetite, as I have already had the honor of mentioning, but you select what you eat with too much refinement to be called a great eater."
The king seemed charmed at his guest's politeness.
"Will you try some of these creams?" he said to Porthos.
"Sire, your majesty treats me with far too much kindness to prevent me speaking the whole truth."
"Well, sire, with regard to sweet dishes. I only recognize pastry, and even that should be rather solid: all these frothy substances swell the stomach, and occupy a space which seems 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 perfect 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, "can do nothing but trifle with our food." And as he spoke he took 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.