His heart was very heavy, as he recollected there was no one now to meet and welcome him; scarcely any one to whom he could even tell his thoughts, for those tall grave Barons had nothing to say to such a little boy, and the very respect and formality with which they treated him, made him shrink from them still more, especially from the grim-faced Bernard; and Osmond, his own friend and playfellow, was obliged to ride far behind, as inferior in rank.

They entered the town just as it was growing dark.  Count Bernard looked back and arrayed the procession; Eric de Centeville bade Richard sit upright and not look weary, and then all the Knights held back while the little Duke rode alone a little in advance of them through the gateway.  There was a loud shout of “Long live the little Duke!” and crowds of people were standing round to gaze upon his entry, so many that the bag of coins was soon emptied by his largesses.  The whole city was like one great castle, shut in by a wall and moat, and with Rollo’s Tower rising at one end like the keep of a castle, and it was thither that Richard was turning his horse, when the Count of Harcourt said, “Nay, my Lord, to the Church of our Lady.” [7]

It was then considered a duty to be paid to the deceased, that their relatives and friends should visit them as they lay in state, and sprinkle them with drops of holy water, and Richard was now to pay this token of respect.  He trembled a little, and yet it did not seem quite so dreary, since he should once more look on his father’s face, and he accordingly rode towards the Cathedral.  It was then very unlike what it is now; the walls were very thick, the windows small and almost buried in heavy carved arches, the columns within were low, clumsy, and circular, and it