But nothing could keep the restless Richard in order; before the year was over, he was engaged in fresh quarrels with Geoffrey of Lusignan and Raymond of Toulouse. After mutual demands for the ransom of some captives, Richard advanced in arms against Raymond, who applied to his suzerain Philip for assistance. This open attack on his dominions Philip could not put up with. At length he declared himself the open enemy of the English. It was in vain that his great feudatories reminded him that he was under the crusader’s vow, in vain that a meeting was held at Gisors. The enmity of the kings was only thereby inflamed, and, in token of his eternal hostility, Philip had the old elm of reconciliation hewn down. One would have supposed that Richard, the cause of the quarrel, would have clung to his father; nor is the reason for his not doing so very plain. Perhaps it may be traced to his father’s refusal to give him up Alice, the French King’s sister, for his wife, wishing it is said to make her his own; perhaps it was continued jealousy of his brother John. Certainly he did betake himself to the French court, and with him many others of Henry’s French feudatories fell away. Henry thus found himself in a difficult situation; broken in mind and body, his resources strained to the utmost by the late heavy taxation of England, and his nobles rapidly deserting him. [Sidenote: Henry’s disastrous peace and death.] His health appears to have influenced his mind. He remained inactive at Le Mans, while Philip overran Maine and threatened to besiege Tours. At length Le Mans, where Henry was with his son Geoffrey, was taken. The city where he had himself been born was the particular object of Henry’s love. He felt its loss as a heavy blow, and though he knew his weakness, could not bring himself to retreat to Normandy, where his chief strength lay. With a sudden accession of energy, he reappeared in Anjou. But his appearance had no effect. One by one the fortresses of Maine were captured, and Philip constantly approached Tours. When that town fell, Henry’s spirit was quite broken. He agreed to an interview with Richard and Philip on the plain of Colombières, to make his submission. Almost fainting, and held upon his horse by his attendants, in the midst of a violent thunderstorm, he met his undutiful son, and brought himself to give him the kiss of peace, whispering as he did so, however, “May God not let me die until I have taken me due vengeance on thee.” The terms of his submission were complete. He promised to give up the Princess Alice; he allowed his nobility to swear fealty for their lands to his son Richard; he promised to pay Philip 50,000 marks for the restoration of his conquests. He had asked, in exchange, for a list of those nobles who had joined Richard in rebellion. When he found at the head of the list the name of his beloved son John, his heart was broken. “I care no more for myself nor for the world,” he said. A day or two longer