“Ah!” exclaimed Aramis, who was not quite so indifferent to the good things of the earth as Athos, “do you remember, when we were at Parpaillot, the beautiful oysters that we ate?”
“And the legs of mutton of the salt marshes,” said Porthos, smacking his lips.
“But,” suggested D’Artagnan, “have we not our friend Mousqueton, who managed for us so well at Chantilly, Porthos?”
“Yes,” said Porthos, “we have Mousqueton, but since he has been steward, he has become very heavy; never mind, let us call him, and to make sure that he will reply agreeably — —
“Here! Mouston,” cried Porthos.