"Why not? My hand is still as steady as ever; I can write, and can weigh
out my sugar and spices; my foot is firm; I can dance and walk about; my
stomach has its teeth still, for I eat and digest very well; my heart is
not quite hardened. Well, monsieur?"

"Well, what, Planchet?"

"Why, you see - " said the grocer, rubbing his hands together.

D'Artagnan crossed one leg over the other, and said, "Planchet, my
friend, I am unnerved with extreme surprise; for you are revealing
yourself to me under a perfectly new light."

Planchet, flattered in the highest degree by this remark, continued to
rub his hands very hard together. "Ah, ah," he said, "because I happen
to be only slow, you think me, perhaps, a positive fool."

"Very good, Planchet; very well reasoned."

"Follow my idea, monsieur, if you please. I said to myself," continued
Planchet, "that, without enjoyment, there is no happiness on this earth."

"Quite true, what you say, Planchet," interrupted D'Artagnan.

"At all events, if we cannot obtain pleasure - for pleasure is not so
common a thing, after all - let us, at least, get consolations of some
kind or another."

"And so you console yourself?"