Another ring-stone, one having a different effect, was that called the “hermit’s stone,” which was washed up by the waves on the shore of the Red Sea. Its color was yellow, transparent, and had a sheen like that of pure oil; possibly this may have been chrysolite. It was eminently and rigidly a stone of chastity. The lapis lazuli was dedicated to Venus, and any man who wore one set in a ring, while Venus was in the ascendant, would attract the love of women, especially of those with blue-gray eyes. On a woman’s hand, it had a corresponding effect upon the opposite sex.[502] An old German lay tells of a magic gold ring set with a diamond. Should the woman wearing this ring prove unfaithful in love, the gold turned to dross, and the diamond became glass. The Latin name of the diamond, _adamas_, is the form used in this poem.[503] This word, which primarily signified an exceedingly hard metal, finally came to mean the diamond, or at least what was believed to be a diamond, although it might in reality be only a colorless corundum, much less hard than the genuine diamond, but harder than any of the other precious stones except the colored corundums, ruby, sapphire, etc. The thirteenth century German romance, “Wolfdietrich,” celebrates a ring given by the empress to the hero of the poem. This ring was set with a stone destined to double the strength of the wearer, and to protect him from the sheets of flame ejected by the fearful dragon he was about to combat. However, before his encounter with this fabulous monster, Wolfdietrich determines to return the ring, and sends it back to the empress, whereupon she bursts into tears, exclaiming: “I let it down from the battlements with my own hand. Does he value it so lightly, that he sends it back to me?”[504] In a satirical and malicious life of Pope Boniface VIII (ca. 1228–1303), the bitter opponent of the French king Philippe le Bel (1268–1314), written by, or at the instance of his royal enemy, it is related that when this pope was dying and was told that he must prepare his soul for the great change, he cast his eyes upon a stone set in a ring he was wearing, and exclaimed “O you tricky spirits imprisoned in this stone, why have you deceived me to abandon me now in my extremity?” And so speaking he snatched off the ring and threw it away.[505] One of the old monkish tales from mediæval times, collected under the title of “Gesta Romanorum,” runs as follows: