“But this dinner was not intended for you alone, Porthos?” said Aramis.

“No,” said Porthos, “I expected some gentlemen of the neighborhood, who have just sent me word they could not come.  You will take their places and I shall not lose by the exchange.  HOLA, Mousqueton, seats, and order double the bottles!”

“Do you know what we are eating here?” said Athos, at the end of ten minutes.

“Pardieu!” replied d’Artagnan, “for my part, I am eating veal garnished with shrimps and vegetables.”

“And I some lamb chops,” said Porthos.

“And I a plain chicken,” said Aramis.

“You are all mistaken, gentlemen,” answered Athos, gravely; “you are eating horse.”

“Eating what?” said d’Artagnan.

“Horse!” said Aramis, with a grimace of disgust.

Porthos alone made no reply.

“Yes, horse.  Are we not eating a horse, Porthos?  And perhaps his saddle, therewith.”

“No, gentlemen, I have kept the harness,” said Porthos.

“My faith,” said Aramis, “we are all alike.  One would think we had tipped the wink.”

“What could I do?” said Porthos.  “This horse made my visitors ashamed of theirs, and I don’t like to humiliate people.”

“Then your duchess is still at the waters?” asked d’Artagnan.

“Still,” replied Porthos.  “And, my faith, the governor of the province—­one of the gentlemen I expected today—­seemed to have such a wish for him, that I gave him to him.”

“Gave him?” cried d’Artagnan.

“My God, yes, gave, that is the word,” said Porthos; “for the animal was worth at least a hundred and fifty louis, and the stingy fellow would only give me eighty.”

“Without the saddle?” said Aramis.

“Yes, without the saddle.”

“You will observe, gentlemen,” said Athos, “that Porthos has made the best bargain of any of us.”

And then commenced a roar of laughter in which they all joined, to the astonishment of poor Porthos; but when he was informed of the cause of their hilarity, he shared it vociferously according to his custom.

“There is one comfort, we are all in cash,” said d’Artagnan.

“Well, for my part,” said Athos, “I found Aramis’s Spanish wine so good that I sent on a hamper of sixty bottles of it in the wagon with the lackeys.  That has weakened my purse.”

“And I,” said Aramis, “imagined that I had given almost my last sou to the church of Montdidier and the Jesuits of Amiens, with whom I had made engagements which I ought to have kept.  I have ordered Masses for myself, and for you, gentlemen, which will be said, gentlemen, for which I have not the least doubt you will be marvelously benefited.”

“And I,” said Porthos, “do you think my strain cost me nothing?—­ without reckoning Mousqueton’s wound, for which I had to have the surgeon twice a day, and who charged me double on account of that foolish Mousqueton having allowed himself a ball in a part which people generally only show to an apothecary; so I advised him to try never to get wounded there any more.”