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 towards his old friend with open arms.

This last endearment was tender as in youth, as in times when hearts were warm--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.