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 don't like to abuse your kindness; besides, I must think of my outfit!" "That's true," said the procurator's wife, groaning, "that unfortunate outfit!" "Alas, yes," said Porthos, "it is so." "But of what, then, does the equipment of your company consist, Monsieur Porthos ?" "Oh, of many things!" said Porthos.

"The Musketeers are, as you know, picked soldiers, and they require many things useless to the Guardsmen or the Swiss." "But yet, detail them to me." "Why, they may amount to--", said Porthos, who preferred discussing the total to taking them one by one.
The procurator's wife waited tremblingly.
"To how much ?" said she.