The image is enough to bring a brief grin to Athos’ lips. He chances a look at Porthos, and his flush returns full force (by God, he is turning into a callow youth), and he turns back to the kitchen as though he needed to refill his coffee, though his mug is still full. “I hope he did not swear you to secrecy,” he deadpans, “for I intend to use this tale against him."