D'Artagnan, reclining upon an immense straight-backed
chair, with his legs not stretched out, but simply placed upon a stool,
formed an angle of the most obtuse form that could possibly be seen.—Page [88].
"A poor Franciscan mendicant friar," replied the latter, "who had not even a dog to love him in this world and to accompany him to his last resting-place."
"If that were really the case," thought D'Artagnan, "we should not have found Aramis present at his funeral. The bishop of Vannes is not precisely a dog as far as devotion goes; his scent, however, is quite as keen, I admit."
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW PORTHOS, TRÜCHEN, AND PLANCHET PARTED WITH EACH OTHER ON FRIENDLY TERMS, THANKS TO D'ARTAGNAN.
There was good living in Planchet's house. Porthos broke a ladder and two cherry-trees, stripped the raspberry-bushes, and was only unable to succeed in reaching the strawberry-beds on account, as he said, of his belt. Trüchen, who had got quite sociable with the giant, said that it was not the belt so much as his corporation; and Porthos, in a state of the highest delight, embraced Trüchen, who gathered him a handful of the strawberries, and made him eat them out of her hand. D'Artagnan, who arrived in the midst of these little innocent flirtations, scolded Porthos for his indolence, and silently pitied Planchet. Porthos breakfasted with a very good appetite, and when he had finished, he said, looking at Trüchen, "I could make myself very happy here." Trüchen smiled at his remark, and so did Planchet, but the latter not without some embarrassment.
D'Artagnan then addressed Porthos—"You must not let the delights of Capua make you forget the real object of our journey to Fontainebleau."
"My presentation to the king?"
"Certainly. I am going to take a turn in the town to get everything ready for that. Do not think of leaving the house. I beg."