"Yes, and that is not all, for he believes you are fifty."
"I should have amazingly liked to have seen him at work."
"Yes, indeed."
"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 rather less white than snow, but as 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?"