While this was going on, the three men, Porthos especially, ate and drank gloriously,--it was wonderful to see them.

The ten full bottles were ten empty one by the time Truchen returned with the cheese.

D'Artagnan still preserved his dignity and self-possession, but Porthos had lost a portion of his; and the mirth soon began to grow somewhat uproarious.
D'Artagnan recommended a new descent into the cellar, and, as Planchet no longer walked with the steadiness of a well-trained foot-soldier, the captain of the musketeers proposed to accompany him.

They set off, humming songs wild enough to frighten anybody who might be listening.
Truchen remained behind at table with Porthos.

While the two wine-bibbers were looking behind the firewood for what they wanted, a sharp report was heard like the impact of a pair of lips on a lady's cheek.
"Porthos fancies himself at La Rochelle," thought D'Artagnan, as they returned freighted with bottles.