St. Alda (1), Nov. 18. 8th century. Sister of St. Tudgui, confessor at St. Pol de Léon, in Brittany. The village of "Ste. Aude, in Seine-et-Marne," Alda Sancta, or Adellæ Villa, is called after her. Her relics are in a silver shrine at the altar of St. Clotilda, in the church of SS. Peter and Paul, built by Clovis and Clotilda, in Paris, and afterwards called the church of Ste. Geneviève. St. Alda has been called a companion of St. Geneviève, from their relics being together; but it is more probable that Alda lived in the 8th century. Chastelain, Vocab. Hag. Migne, Dict. des Legended du Moyen Age. Molanus has St. Tudgui, Nov. 18. Butler, Life of St. Geneviève.
B. Alda (2), April 16 (Aldobrandesca, Blanca, Bruna). 1245-1309 or 1310. One of the patron saints of Siena. Represented holding a large nail; or at the feet of the Saviour, who runs a nail into her hand. Daughter of Pier Francesco de Ponzii, an honest merchant of noble birth in Siena, and Agnes de Bolgherini, his wife. Her birth was marked by special signs of the favour of God. At 18 she married Bindo Bellanti, whose piety, as well as his worldly station, was equal to her own. They spent the first eight days of their married life in mortification and devotion, and during the rest of Bellanti's life strove to live like the angels of God. Soon after his death, Alda joined the Third Order of the Humiliati, a branch of the Benedictines, which flourished in the duchy of Milan. Bucelinus calls Alda a nun; but she appears to have belonged, at all events for a time, to the number of the Humiliati remaining in the world. She lived at a little country place of her own, was there favoured with visions, and wrought many miracles. Latterly she lived in the hospital of St. Andrew, afterwards called of St Onofrio; she attended to the sick poor, and converted sinful women, to the great edification of the nuns. A girl named Jacomina, in the hospital, saw two great white candles before Alda, wherever she turned or moved; they were carried without human hands. Jacomina exclaimed, and called the attention of everybody to this prodigy. Alda, who hated human praise, shut herself up in her room, beat herself very severely, remained in seclusion some days, and then returned to her duties. Once she turned water into wine. One morning she did not come to her place in the church at the usual hour; the nuns ran to her cell, and found her standing with her head raised and her mouth open, as if speaking to the crucifix. They thought she was in one of those ecstasies with which they knew the Lord favoured her, and did not suspect her to be dead until a Dominican monk, B. Baptist Tolomei, arrived and said that he had seen her soul, in the form of a dove, conducted to heaven by angels. Alda was buried in the Basilica of St. Thomas of the Humiliati, where she wrought many miracles. Her body was solemnly taken up from the grave in 1489. Papebroch, in AA.SS., from her life by Lombardelli.
St. Aldegundis (1), or Aldegonde, June 20, V. 7th century. Patron of Dronghen, near Ghent, and against sore eyes. Daughter of St. Basin, or Babin, a "regulus," or chief, related to the kings of France. St. Basin went out hunting with several friends, and followed a stag for three days. They were extremely tired on the third night, and slept soundly in the forest, at a place on the river Lisa. Basin had a dream, in which he was directed to found a church in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, on that spot. Aldegundis was blind, and used to sit lonely and sad at home. When her father, with a great company of persons, was setting off to go and found the church, on the feast of St. John the Baptist, she begged to be allowed to go with him. He did not want to be troubled with the care of the blind girl, so he said there was no way of getting her to the place except by her riding on an unbroken and vicious horse, which was then running with the mares in the field. Nothing daunted, Aldegundis called the shepherd, and told him to catch the horse. He said it would bite every one who attempted to touch it. She cried out, with tears, "I wish it would bite me, for I am so weary. I am good for nothing, because I am
