"A fellow who has got the gout?"

"Yes."

"Who has lost three of his teeth?"

"Four."

"While I, look at mine." And Porthos, opening his large mouth very wide,
displayed two rows of teeth not quite as white as snow, but even, hard,
and sound as ivory.

"You can hardly believe, Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "what a fancy the
king has for good teeth. Yours decide me; I will present you to the king
myself."

"You?"

"Why not? Do you think I have less credit at court than Aramis?"

"Oh, no!"

"Do you think I have the slightest pretensions upon the fortifications at
Belle-Isle?"

"Certainly not."

"It is your own interest alone which would induce me to do it."