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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 433/849
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Coquenard
knit
his
eyebrows
because
there
were
too
many
good
things
.
Porthos
bit
his
lips
because
he
saw
not
the
wherewithal
to
dine
.
He
looked
to
see
if
the
dish
of
beans
was
still
there
;
the
dish
of
beans
had
disappeared
.
"
A
positive
feast
!
"
cried
M.
Coquenard
,
turning
about
in
his
chair
,
"
a
real
feast
,
EPULCE
EPULORUM
.
Lucullus
dines
with
Lucullus
.
"
Porthos
looked
at
the
bottle
,
which
was
near
him
,
and
hoped
that
with
wine
,
bread
,
and
cheese
,
he
might
make
a
dinner
;
but
wine
was
wanting
,
the
bottle
was
empty
.
M.
and
Mme.
Coquenard
did
not
seem
to
observe
it
.
"
This
is
fine
!
"
said
Porthos
to
himself
;
"
I
am
prettily
caught
!
"
He
passed
his
tongue
over
a
spoonful
of
preserves
,
and
stuck
his
teeth
into
the
sticky
pastry
of
Mme.
Coquenard
.
"
Now
,
"
said
he
,
"
the
sacrifice
is
consummated
!
Ah
!
if
I
had
not
the
hope
of
peeping
with
Madame
Coquenard
into
her
husband
's
chest
!
"
M.
Coquenard
,
after
the
luxuries
of
such
a
repast
,
which
he
called
an
excess
,
felt
the
want
of
a
siesta
.
Porthos
began
to
hope
that
the
thing
would
take
place
at
the
present
sitting
,
and
in
that
same
locality
;
but
the
procurator
would
listen
to
nothing
,
he
would
be
taken
to
his
room
,
and
was
not
satisfied
till
he
was
close
to
his
chest
,
upon
the
edge
of
which
,
for
still
greater
precaution
,
he
placed
his
feet
.
The
procurator
's
wife
took
Porthos
into
an
adjoining
room
,
and
they
began
to
lay
the
basis
of
a
reconciliation
.
"
You
can
come
and
dine
three
times
a
week
,
"
said
Mme.
Coquenard
.
"
Thanks
,
madame
!
"
said
Porthos
,
"
but
I
do
n't
like
to
abuse
your
kindness
;
besides
,
I
must
think
of
my
outfit
!
"
