"It was I who fortified Belle-Isle; and, while I defend it, nobody can take Belle-Isle from me. And then, as you have said just now, M. Fouquet is there. Belle-Isle will not be attacked without the signature of M. Fouquet."
"That is true. Nevertheless, be prudent. The king is both cunning and strong." Aramis smiled.
"I again recommend Porthos to you," repeated the comte, with a sort of cold persistence.
"Whatever becomes of me, comte," replied Aramis, in the same tone, "our brother Porthos will fare as I do."
Athos bowed while pressing the hand of Aramis, and turned to embrace Porthos with much emotion.
"I was born lucky, was I not?" murmured the latter, transported with happiness, as he folded his cloak round him.
"Come, my dear friend," said Aramis.
Raoul was gone out to give orders for the saddling of the horses. The group was already divided. Athos saw his two friends on the point of departure, and something like a mist passed before his eyes and weighed upon his heart.
"It is strange," thought he, "whence comes the inclination I feel to embrace Porthos once more"—At that moment Porthos turned round, and he came toward his old friend with open arms. This last endearment was tender as in youth, as in times when the heart was warm, and life happy. And then Porthos mounted his horse. Aramis came back once more to throw his arms round the neck of Athos. The latter watched them along the high road, elongated by the shade, in their white cloaks. Like two phantoms they seemed to be enlarged on departing from the earth, and it was not in the mist, but in the declivity of the ground that they disappeared. At the end of the perspective, both seemed to have given a spring with their feet, which made them vanish as if evaporated into the clouds.
Then Athos, with an oppressed heart, returned toward the house, saying to Bragelonne, "Raoul, I don't know what it is that has just told me that I have seen these two men for the last time."