ther silence, and then Carloman, with the same solemnity,
asked, "How old are you?"

"I shall be nine on the eve of St. Boniface. How old are you?"

"Eight. I was eight at Martinmas, and Lothaire was nine three days
since."

Another silence; then, as Osmond waited on Richard, Carloman returned to
the charge, "Is that your Squire?"

"Yes, that is Osmond de Centeville."

"How tall he is!"

"We Normans are taller than you French."

"Don't say so to Lothaire, or you will make him angry."

"Why? it is true."

"Yes; but--" and Carloman sunk his voice--"there are some things which
Lothaire will not hear said. Do not make him cross, or he will make my
mother displeased with you. She caused Thierry de Lincourt to be
scourged, because his ball hit Lothaire's face."

"She cannot scourge me--I am a free Duke," said Richard. "But why? Did
he do it on purpose?"

"Oh, no!"

"And was Lothaire hurt?"

"Hush! you must say Prince Lothaire. No; it was quite a soft ball."

"Why?" again asked Richard--"why was he scourged?"

"I told you, because he hit Lothaire."

"Well, but did he not laugh, and say it was nothing? Alberic quite
knocked me down with a great snowball the other day, and Sir Eric
laughed, and said I must stand firmer."

"Do you make snowballs?"

"To be sure I do! Do not you?"

"Oh, no! the snow is so cold."

"Ah! you are but a little boy," said Richard, in a superior manner.
Carloman asked how it was done; and Richard gave an animated description
of the snowballing, a fortnight ago, at Rouen, when Osmond and some of
the other young men built a snow fortress, and defended it against
Richard, Alberic, and the other Squires. Carloman listened with delight,
and declared that next time it snowed, they would have a snow castle; and
thus, by the time supper was over, the two little boys were very good
friends.

Bedtime came not long after supper. Richard's was a smaller room than he
had been used to at Rouen; but it amazed him exceedingly when he first
went into it: he stood gazing in wonder, because, as he said, "It was as
if he had been in a church."

"Yes, truly!" said Osmond. "No wonder these poor creatures of French
cannot stand before a Norman lance, if they cannot sleep without glass to
their windows. Well! what would my father say to this?"

"And see! see, Osmond! they have put hangings up all round the walls,
just like our Lady's church on a great feast-day. They treat us just as