That seems like a hard statement to make, but we know very well that it was stolen, because we have seen it ourselves in several of the cathedrals of Italy and France.
But the relic that touched us most was the plain old sword of that stout Crusader, Godfrey of Bulloigne--King Godfrey of Jerusalem.

No blade in Christendom wields such enchantment as this--no blade of all that rust in the ancestral halls of Europe is able to invoke such visions of romance in the brain of him who looks upon it--none that can prate of such chivalric deeds or tell such brave tales of the warrior days of old.

It stirs within a man every memory of the Holy Wars that has been sleeping in his brain for years, and peoples his thoughts with mail-clad images, with marching armies, with battles and with sieges.

It speaks to him of Baldwin, and Tancred, the princely Saladin, and great Richard of the Lion Heart.

It was with just such blades as these that these splendid heroes of romance used to segregate a man, so to speak, and leave the half of him to fall one way and the other half the other.