ent was from the cross to which
the Son of God had been nailed.

The knight was very happy during this long homeward journey, but a
great misfortune awaited him. Just as the crusaders came in sight of
Italy their vessel was wrecked. The King of England, the Knight of
Ravensberg, and a few others were saved with great difficulty, and
brought to land. But our poor knight was inconsolable; he had held the
precious little box high above him in the water, but a mighty wave had
torn it from him, and on opening his eyes he found himself on shore.
The holy relic had saved him, but he had lost his treasure, and now
all hope of his promised happiness was gone.

* * * * *

One day a weary and dispirited crusader returned to the castle of
Heimburg. He announced his arrival to the young countess most humbly,
but she, her lovely face lighted up by a bright smile, hurried to meet
the knight whose sunburnt countenance betokened great hardships.

She listened silently to his mournful story, then raising her
beautiful head she asked: "Was not the little box set with precious
stones and was not my name in golden letters on it?"

"Yes, noble lady," said the knight, the bitterness of his
disappointment newly awakened, "And now it lies at the bottom of the
sea in spite of my fervent prayers to St. George to save the precious
fragment of our Saviour's cross."

The countess beckoned to a page, and after a few minutes the boy
brought her on a velvet cushion a little black ebony box set with
precious stones with a woman's name written on it. The knight uttered
a cry of joyful surprise, for he recognised the jewel at once.

"Entreat the Holy Patron of Knighthood to pardon you," said the
countess with a smile. "A strange knight brought this to the steward a
few days ago, and before I had time to send for him, he had
disappeared."

"It was St. George himself!" whispered the knight, crossing himself
piously, "which proves that the fragment really belonged to the Holy
Cross."

Then he bent his knee before his charming mistress who, with a deep
blush on her cheeks, gave the man she had long but secretly loved
love's first kiss.

* * * * *

A happy marriage was speedily celebrated in Heimburg. The Knight of
Ravensberg then called his castle Spanheim (Span being the German word
for chip) in memory of the precious little relic. This name was later
on corrupted into Sponheim.