"Oh, my legs, my poor legs! where are you?" murmured Coquenard, and he tried to smile.
This succor, which came to Porthos at the moment in which he was attacked in his gastronomic hopes, inspired much gratitude in the Musketeer toward the procurator's wife.
The hour of dinner soon arrived. They passed into the eating room—a large dark room situated opposite the kitchen.
