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
Astrida at length remembered him, and led him away to bed.

When Richard awoke the next morning, he could hardly believe that all
that had passed in the evening was true, but soon he found that it was
but too real, and all was prepared for him to go to Rouen with the
vassals; indeed, it was for no other purpose than to fetch him that the
Count of Harcourt had come to Bayeux. Fru Astrida was quite unhappy that
"the child," as she called him, should go alone with the warriors; but
Sir Eric laughed at her, and said that it would never do for the Duke of
Normandy to bring his nurse with him in his first entry into Rouen, and
she must be content to follow at some space behind under the escort of
Walter the huntsman.

So she took leave of Richard, charging both Sir Eric and Osmond to have
the utm