Athos threw his cloak over the shoulders of Raoul, and led him back to the city, where burdens and porters were already in motion, like a vast ant-hill.

At the extremity of the plateau which Athos and Bragelonne were quitting, they saw a dark shadow moving uneasily backwards and forwards, as if in indecision or ashamed to be seen.

It was Grimaud, who in his anxiety had tracked his master, and was there awaiting him.
"Oh! my good Grimaud," cried Raoul, "what do you want?
You are come to tell us it is time to be gone, have you not ?" "Alone ?" said Grimaud, addressing Athos and pointing to Raoul in a tone of reproach, which showed to what an extent the old man was troubled.
"Oh! you are right!" cried the comte.

"No, Raoul shall not go alone; no, he shall not be left alone in a strange land without some friendly hand to support him, some friendly heart to recall to him all he loved!" "I ?" said Grimaud.
"You, yes, you!" cried Raoul, touched to the inmost heart.
"Alas!" said Athos, "you are very old, my good Grimaud." "So much the better," replied the latter, with an inexpressible depth of feeling and intelligence.
"But the embarkation is begun," said Raoul, "and you are not prepared." "Yes," said Grimaud, showing the keys of his trunks, mixed with those of his young master.
"But," again objected Raoul, "you cannot leave monsieur le comte thus alone; monsieur le comte, whom you have never quitted ?" Grimaud turned his diamond eyes upon Athos and Raoul, as if to measure the strength of both.

The comte uttered not a word.
"Monsieur le comte prefers my going," said Grimaud.
"I do," said Athos, by an inclination of the head.
At that moment the drums suddenly rolled, and the clarions filled the air with their inspiring notes.