“It is very certain that this Elect lady was not always a pattern of amiability—­not what could be called easy to get on with.  Before being reproved and chastened we see her in history, as vindictive, unrelenting to pity, eager for retaliation.  She would be Clotilde before her repentance—­the Queen, before she became a saint.

“But is it really she?  The name was given her because a statue of the same period and very like this, which was formerly at Notre Dame de Corbeil, was dubbed with this name.  It was, however, subsequently admitted that it represented the Queen of Sheba.  Are we then in the presence of that sovereign?  And why, if her name is not in the Book of Life, has she a glory?

“It is highly probable that she is neither the wife of Clovis, nor Solomon’s friend—­this strange princess who stands before us, at once so earthly and yet more spectral than her sisters; for time has marred her features, injured her skin, dotted her chin with hail-specks, vulgarized her mouth, injured her nose, making it look like the ace of clubs, and put the stamp of death on that living countenance.

“As to the third, she is tall and slender, a fragile spindle, a slim, sylph-like creature, suggesting a taper with the lower portion patterned, embossed, brocaded in the wax itself; she stands magnificently arrayed in a stiff-pleated robe channelled lengthwise, like a stick of celery.  The bodice is richly trimmed and stitched; below her waist hangs a cord with loose jewelled knots; on her head is a crown.  Both arms are broken; one hand rested on her bosom; in the other she held a sceptre, of which a small portion remains.

“This queen is smiling, artless, and engaging—­quite charming.  She looks down on all comers with wide open eyes under high-arched brows.  Never, at any period, has a more expressive face been formed by the genius of man; it is a masterpiece of childlike grace and saintly innocence.

“Here, amid the pensive architecture of the twelfth century, one of a crowd of devout statues, symbolical to some extent of simple love in an age when men were in perpetual dread of everlasting hell, she seems to stand at the Gate of the Lord as the exorable image of forgiveness.  To the terrified souls of habitual sinners who after perseverance in guilt no longer dare cross the threshold of the Sanctuary, she stands kindly reproving such reticence, conquering regrets and soothing terrors by her familiar smile.

“She is the elder sister of the prodigal son, of whom St. Luke indeed makes no mention, but who, if she ever existed, would have pleaded for the absent wanderer, and have insisted with her father on the killing of the fatted calf when the son returned.

“Chartres, to be sure, does not see her in this indulgent aspect; local tradition names her Berthe of the broad foot; but while there is no argument to support this hypothesis, it is in fact quite absurd, as the statue is graced with a nimbus.  This mark of holiness would not have been given to Charlemagne’s mother, whose name is not on the list of the saints of the Church Triumphant.