upon their horses in the field.
Henry reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen if his attendants
had not seized and held him. They found that he was too weak and ill
to remain any longer on the spot, and so they bore him away to his
quarters, and then Philip and Richard sent him in writing the
conditions which they were going to exact from him. The conditions
were very humiliating indeed. They stripped him of a great portion of
his possessions, and required him to hold others in subordination to
Philip and to Richard. Finally, the last of the conditions was, that
he was to give Richard the kiss of peace, and to banish from his heart
all sentiments of animosity and anger against him.

Among other articles of the treaty was one binding him to pardon all
the barons and other chief men who had gone over to Richard's side in
the rebellion. As they read the articles over to the king, while he
was lying sick upon his bed, he asked, when they came to this one, to
see the list of the names, that he might know who they were that had
thus forsaken him. The name at the head of the list was that of his
son John--his darling son John, to defend whose rights against the
aggressions of Richard had been one of his chief motives in carrying
on the war. The wretched father, on seeing this name, started up from
his bed and gazed wildly around.

"Is it possible," he cried out, "that John, the child of my heart--he
whom I have cherished more than all the rest, and for love of whom I
have drawn down on mine own head all these troubles, has verily
betrayed me?" They told him that it was even so.

"Then," said he, falling back helplessly on his bed, "then let every
thing go as it will; I care no longer for myself or for any thing else
in this world."

All this took place in Normandy, for it was Normandy that had been the
chief scene of the war between the king and his son. At some little
distance from the place where the king was now lying sick there was a
beautiful rural palace, at a place called Chinon, which was situated
very pleasantly on the banks of a small branch of the Loire. This
palace was one of the principal summer resorts of the dukes of
Normandy, and the king caused himself now to be carried there, in
order to seek repose. But instead of being cheered by the beautiful
scenes that were around him at Chinon, or reinvigorated by the
comforts and the attentions which he could there enjoy, he gradually
sank into hopeless melan