William, too, accompanied his father, for he, more than any of the sons, comprehended the policy, and partook of the spirit of the Conqueror. The remaining years of the Queen Duchess Matilda, were passed in splendid solitude, in the royal palace at Bayeux. The early death of the princess Adeliza, the failing health of Constance, together with fresh dissensions in her family, pressed heavily upon her mind, and occasioned the lingering illness that slowly conducted her to the tomb. The loss of his beloved queen, and the undutiful conduct of his sons, aggravated the natural irritability and imperiousness of William, so that according to the English chroniclers, "He became, after her death, a thorough tyrant." He passed the four remaining years of his life in a constant succession of petty annoyances, and fruitless wars, with Philip of France. In the stately castle of Chartres, sat the lovely Countess Adela apparently busy with embroidery, in that age almost the only home occupation of females. A shade of sadness was upon her brow, and an expression of anxious care indicated the mother's sympathy with the suffering child, that an attendant was vainly striving to soothe. "Draw the couch of the little William to my side, Therese," said the countess, observing the tears in the girl's eyes. "Thou hast a tiresome task. Remove these frames," continued she to the maidens, "and go ye all to disport awhile in the pleasance, I will watch my boy's slumbers." The feeble child stretched his hands to his mother, and laying his head upon her breast sank quietly to sleep. "Poor suffering one," soliloquized Adela, "thou knowest naught but thy mother's love. Already thy younger brothers despise thy imbecility--the courtiers regard thee with indifference--and the very menials flout thee. No ducal coronet, or kingly crown will grace the head of my first-born." The sound of heavy steps in the corridor disturbed the slumberer. He lifted his head, moaned heavily, and regarded with a vacant stare the warrior who entered. "Robert, my beloved brother!" exclaimed the countess, the joy of former times flitting across her countenance. With a moody and dissatisfied air the duke returned the frank greeting of his sister, and throwing himself upon a seat by her side, said in a tone of ill-concealed impatience, "Adela, I have come to thee, for the prudent counsel of our mother dwells with thee. I am robbed of my rights and stripped of my heritage." "Art thou not Duke of Normandy," inquired his sister with surprise. "Aye, verily. Our father left me the duchy with a blessing that sounded marvellously like a curse. 'The dukedom of Normandy,' said he, 'I granted unto my son Robert, and having received the homage of his baronage, that honor given cannot be revoked: yet he is a foolish, proud knave, and will be punished with cruel fortune.'" "The saints preserve thee," said the countess with a look of alarm, "and England"--