that the interment should take place at Caen, in preference to his own city, it being thought most proper that the church of St. Stephen, which the king had built, and royally endowed, should be honoured with his sepulchre. But there was no one to give orders concerning the obsequies of him who had been so great on earth; his sons and brothers, every relation, and all the chiefs who had shared his favours were away. Not one was found even to make inquiry respecting the interment, excepting a poor knight who lived in the neighbourhood, and who charged himself with the trouble and expense of the funeral, "out of his natural good nature, and love of the Most High." Arrangements were made accordingly, and the corpse being carried by water to Caen, was received by the abbots and monks of St. Stephen, while the inhabitants of the city, having formed a procession, headed by the neighbouring ecclesiastics, proceeded towards the abbey. Suddenly a fire broke out, and each one, whether priest or layman, running to his home or monastery to prevent the spreading of the flames, the brothers of St. Stephen alone remained with the bier. Onward, then, they went, and there was somewhat of funereal solemnity in the last sad act, for mitred abbots in their robes, with bishops and ecclesiastics in their gowns and cowls, stood within the abbey walls, in order to receive the corpse. Mass was then performed, the Bishop of Evreux pronounced a panegyric on him who had borne the name of Conqueror while living, and who had done great deeds among his fellow-men, and the bier on which lay the body of the king, attired in royal robes, and being in no respect concealed from the view, was about to be lowered into the grave, when a stern voice forbade the interment. "Bishop," it said, "the man whom you have praised was a robber. The very ground on which we are standing is mine; and this is the site of my father's house. He took it from me by violence to build this church upon its ruins. I reclaim it as my right, and in the name of the Most High I forbid you to bury him there, or to cover him with my glebe." The man who spoke thus boldly, was Asseline Fitz-Arthur. He had vainly sought for justice from the king while living, and he loudly proclaimed the fact of his injustice and oppression, before his face, when dead. It seemed fearful to the bystanders, that the funeral should thus be strangely hindered; that as at first no one had cared to bury him, whose pale, shrunk countenance and lifeless form was still upheld above the grave; when some at length were gathered, who thought to do him honour, the most were hurried off by an alarm of fire, and that at the very moment of his interment, even the solemn act could not proceed in peace. Many who were present well remembered the pulling down of Fitz-Arthur's house, and the distress which it occasioned, and the bishop being assured of the fact, gave his son, sixty shillings for the grave