She conducted her household like a
cloister. Every morning she distributed work to the maids,
supervised the making of preserves and unguents, and afterwards
passed her time in spinning, or in embroidering altar-cloths. In
response to her fervent prayers, God granted her a son!
Then there was great rejoicing; and they gave a feast which lasted
three days and four nights, with illuminations and soft music.
Chickens as large as sheep, and the rarest spices were served; for
the entertainment of the guests, a dwarf crept out of a pie; and
when the bowls were too few, for the crowd swelled continuously,
the wine was drunk from helmets and hunting-horns.
The young mother did not appear at the feast. She was quietly
resting in bed. One night she awoke, and beheld in a moonbeam that
crept through the window something that looked like a moving
shadow. It was an old man clad in sackcloth, who resembled a
hermit. A rosary dangled at his side and he carried a beggar's
sack on his shoulder. He approached the foot of the bed, and
without opening his lips said: "Rejoice, O mother! Thy son shall
be a saint."
She would have cried out, but the old man, gliding along the
moonbeam, rose through the air and disappeared.
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