"Thou would'st do well to remember the fate of Absalom, and the misfortunes of Rehoboam, and beware of evil counsellors," retorted William. Robert insolently rejoined, "I did not come hither to listen to sermons, but to claim the investiture which has been promised me. Answer me positively, are not these things my right?" "It is not my custom to strip before I go to bed," replied the Conqueror; "and as long as I live, I will not divide my native realm, Normandy, with another, for it is written in the holy evangelists, 'Every kingdom divided against itself shall become desolate.'" "If it is inconvenient for thee to keep thy word, I will depart from Normandy, and seek justice from strangers, here I will not remain a subject," retorted Robert, with equal pride and scorn. "Par le splendeur de Dé," shouted William, half unsheathing his sword. "It is not to be borne, that he who owes his existence to me, should aspire to be my rival in mine own dominions. May the curse of Cain light upon thy undutiful head." Thus they parted, Robert to take refuge with his mother's brother, in Flanders, and William to return to his distracted kingdom, where the fires of civil war still smouldered in the ashes of freedom. In such scenes was Adela nurtured, and thus in an atmosphere of intrigue and superstition, was a character naturally penetrating and impetuous, prepared to devise and carry forward the wildest schemes. Public calamities, and domestic vexations, impaired the peace and irritated the temper of the English monarch. Bodesmen from the north, brought news of leagues and plots against his power, while messengers from Normandy, conveyed tidings of the disaffections of his peers, and the hostilities of the French king. Richard, his most dutiful and affectionate son, had accompanied him to England. The young prince was exceedingly fond of the chase, and often spent whole days hunting in the New Forest of Hampshire. The malaria of the depopulated district, and the painful emotions awakened in his sensitive nature, by the sight of famishing wretches, vainly seeking food and shelter, brought on a delirious fever, which soon terminated his life. He was interred in Winchester Cathedral. The last tone of the curfew bell was reverberating through the silent halls of the palace, when the distracted father, haunted by the piteous lamentations, and reproachful ravings of his departed son, threw himself despairingly upon his couch. "News from beyond seas," said the chamberlain, entering, and presenting him a letter. William cut the silk and read.