voice of Bernard de Harcourt, calling him to rouse up, and bid the
Duke of Brittany farewell.

"Poor child!" said Duke Alan, as Richard rose up, startled, "he is
over-wearied with this day's work. Take care of him, Count Bernard;
thou a kindly nurse, but a rough one for such a babe. Ha! my young
Lord, your colour mantles at being called a babe! I crave your
pardon, for you are a fine spirit. And hark you, Lord Richard of
Normandy, I have little cause to love your race, and little right, I
trow, had King Charles the Simple to call us free Bretons liegemen to
a race of plundering Northern pirates. To Duke Rollo's might, my
father never gave his homage; nay, nor did I yield it for all Duke
William's long sword, but I did pay it to his generosity and
forbearance, and now I grant it to thy weakness and to his noble
memory. I doubt not that the recreant Frank, Louis, whom he restored
to his throne, will strive to profit by thy youth and helplessness,
and should that be, remember that thou hast no surer friend than Alan
of Brittany. Fare thee well, my young Duke."

"Farewell, Sir," said Richard, willingly giving his hand to be shaken
by his kind vassal, and watching him as Sir Eric attended him from
the hall.

"Fair words, but I trust not the Breton," muttered Bernard; "hatred
is deeply ingrained in them."

"He should know what the Frank King is made of," said Rainulf de
Ferrieres; "he was bred up with him in the days that they were both
exiles at the court of King Ethelstane of England."