It was soon after the death of John of Brienne, when the revenues of France were so eaten up by wars—with Bulgaria among others (it seems queer to think that that state which has been fighting the battle of the Crown so gallantly should once have been the cause of the pawning of the Crown!)—that the government of the Regency was compelled to open subscriptions for a loan. The one movable thing of value which they possessed was the Crown of Thorns, and this was given in pledge to a certain Albert Nerosini, as representing the Venetian and Genoese merchants who had taken up the loan (one wonders that some of them were not struck dead for the impious sacrilege!). It was taken from its resting-place in the chapel of the Bouillons, and, after the term of the loan had run out and the payment of the note was not forthcoming, by an arrangement with a rich Venetian banker, made in order to evade a scandal (one cannot help thinking that it was a little late in the day to be talking about a “scandal”), it was transferred for the sake of safety to the Church of Pantocrates, in Constantinople, whence, in the case of the Regency failing in the performance of its agreement, the banker was at liberty to remove it to Venice and keep it there for a further term of four months; also, it was agreed that if the money was not paid by the 19th of June, 1238, the Crown should become the property of the mortgagee. We are not told what the Holy Louis IX of France said when he came to hear of this transaction, but when we remember that in those rough times even the most saintly of men were apt to “let fly” upon lesser occasions and under far less temptation, one can imagine. He acted, however, with commendable promptitude and sent off two Dominicans on the spot to Constantinople to redeem the relic from pawn and bring it back, if possible, to their own country—a congenial task, no doubt, to the sons of St. Dominic. It was a long journey that they had to make before they completed their mission, for the Imperial government had not liquidated its obligations, and the owner had already hired a ship to convey the Cross, and had set sail some time before the two monks arrived at the Golden Horn. But they tracked it to Venice, and there they obtained an audience with the Doge, Tiepolo, who must have been in an extraordinarily good temper, for him, for he seems to have made no objections, either to the audience or to taking them in person to St. Mark’s, where he showed them a golden casket, sealed with his own arms, wherein lay the treasure they sought.