"That I will!" said Richard, carried away by the applause excited by
those few words of his. "I will ride at your head this very night if
you will but go to chastise the false Flemings."

"You shall ride with us to-morrow, my Lord," answered Bernard, "but
it must be to Rouen, there to be invested with your ducal sword and
mantle, and to receive the homage of your vassals."

Richard drooped his head without replying, for this seemed to bring
to him the perception that his father was really gone, and that he
should never see him again. He thought of all his projects for the
day of his return, how he had almost counted the hours, and had
looked forward to telling him that Father Lucas was well pleased with
him! And now he should never nestle into his breast again, never
hear his voice, never see those kind eyes beam upon him. Large tears
gathered in his eyes, and ashamed that they should be seen, he sat
down on a footstool at Fru Astrida's feet, leant his forehead on his
hands, and thought over all that his father had done and said the
last time they were together. He fancied the return that had been
promised, going over the meeting and the greeting, till he had almost
persuaded himself that this dreadful story was but a dream. But when
he looked up, there were the Barons, with their grave mournful faces,
speaking of the corpse, which Duke Alan of Brittany was escorting to
Rouen, there to be buried beside the old Duke Rollo, and the Duchess
Emma, Richard's mother. Then he lost himself in wonder how that
stiff bleeding body could be the same as the father whose arm was so
lately around him, and whether his father's spirit knew how he was
thinking of him; and in these dreamy thoughts, the young orphan Duke
of Normandy, forgotten by his vassals in their grave councils, fell
asleep, and scarce wakened enough to attend to his prayers, when Fru