sharp arrow.

The men of the household sat ranged on benches on one side of the hall,
the women on the other; a great red fire, together with an immense
flickering lamp which hung from the ceiling, supplied the light; the
windows were closed with wooden shutters, and the whole apartment had a
cheerful appearance. Two or three large hounds were reposing in front of
the hearth, and among them sat little Richard of Normandy, now smoothing
down their broad silken ears; now tickling the large cushions of their
feet with the end of one of Osmond's feathers; now fairly pulling open
the eyes of one of the good-natured sleepy creatures, which only
stretched its legs, and remonstrated with a sort of low groan, rather
than a growl. The boy's eyes were, all the time, intently fixed on Dame
Astrida, as if he would not lose one word of the story she was telling
him; how Earl Rollo, his grandfather, had sailed into the mouth of the
Seine, and how Archbishop Franco, of Rouen, had come to meet him and
brought him the keys of the town, and how not one Neustrian of Rouen had
met with harm from the brave Northmen. Then she told him of his
grandfather's baptism, and how during the seven days that he wore his
white baptismal robes, he had made large gifts to all the chief churches
in his dukedom of Normandy.

"Oh, but tell of the paying homage!" said Richard; "and how Sigurd
Bloodaxe threw down simple King Charles! Ah! how would I have laughed to
see it!"

"Nay, nay, Lord Richard," said the old lady, "I love not that tale. That
was ere the Norman learnt courtesy, and rudeness ought rather to be
forgotten than remembered, save for the sake of amending it. No, I will
rather tell you of our coming to Centeville, and how dreary I thought
these smooth meads, and broad soft gliding streams, compared with mine
own father's fiord in Norway, shut in with the tall black rocks, and dark
pines above them, and far away the snowy mountains rising into the sky.
Ah! how blue the waters were in the long summer days when I sat in my
father's boat in the little fiord, and--"

Dame Astrida was interrupted. A bugle note rang out at the castle gate;
the dogs started to their feet, and uttered a sudden deafening bark;
Osmond sprung up, exclaiming, "Hark!" and trying to silence the hounds;
and Richard running to Sir Eric, cried, "Wake, wake, Sir Eric, my father
is come! Oh, haste to open the gate, and admit him."

"Peace, dogs!" said Sir Eric, slowly r