A dozen maidens sat, so fair
 No mortal man could dream such light,
 No mortal tongue describe the sight. 
 Then he saw that next the bed,
 By the poor old woman’s head,
 As she gasped and strained for breath
 In the agony of death,
 Sat Our Lady,—­bending low,—­
 While, with napkin white as snow,
 She dried the death-sweat on the brow.

The clerk, in terror, hesitated whether to turn and run away, but Our Lady beckoned him to the bed, while all rose and kneeled devoutly to the sacrament.  Then she said to the trembling clerk:—­

“Friend, be not afraid! 
 But seat yourself, to give us aid,
 Beside these maidens, on the bed.”

And when the clerk had obeyed, she continued—­

“Or tost, amis!” fait Nostre Dame,
 “Confessies ceste bone fame
 Et puis apres tout sans freeur
 Recevra tost son sauveeur
 Qui char et sanc vout en moi prendre.”

“Come quickly, friend!” Our Lady says,
 “This good old woman now confess
 And afterwards without distress
 She will at once receive her God
 Who deigned in me take flesh and blood.”

After the sacrament came a touch of realism that recalls the simple death-scenes that Walter Scott described in his grand twelfth-century manner.  The old woman lingered pitiably in her agony:—­

Lors dit une des demoiselles
 A madame sainte Marie: 
 “Encore, dame, n’istra mie
 Si com moi semble du cors l’ame.” 
 “Bele fille,” fait Nostre Dame,
 “Traveiller lais un peu le cors,
 Aincois que l’ame en isse hors,
 Si que puree soil et nete
 Aincois qu’en Paradis la mete. 
 N’est or mestier qui soions plus,
 Ralon nous en ou ciel lassus,
 Quant tens en iert bien reviendrons
 En paradis l’ame emmerrons.”

A maiden said to Saint Marie,
 “My lady, still it seems to me
 The soul will not the body fly.” 
 “Fair child!” Our Lady made reply,
 “Still let awhile the body fight
 Before the soul shall leave it quite. 
 So that it pure may be, and cleansed
 When it to Paradise ascends. 
 No longer need we here remain;
 We can go back to heaven again;
 We will return before she dies,
 And take the soul to paradise.”

The rest of the story concerned the usurer, whose death-bed was of a different character, but Mary’s interest in death-beds of that kind was small.  The fate of the usurer mattered the less because she knew too well how easily the banker, in good credit, could arrange with the officials of the Trinity to open the doors of paradise for him.  The administration of heaven was very like the administration of France; the Queen Mother saw many things of which she could not wholly approve; but her nature was pity, not justice, and she shut her eyes to much that she could not change.  Her miracles, therefore, were for the most part mere evidence of her pity for those who needed it most,