One morning, about six months after the departure of Guta’s lover, a gay cavalcade appeared at the gates of Caub, and a herald demanded admission for Richard, Emperor of Germany.  Philip himself, scarcely concealing his joy and pride at the honour done him by his sovereign, ran out to greet him, and the castle was full of stir and bustle.  The Emperor praised Philip heartily for his part in the recent wars, yet he seemed absent and uneasy.

“Sir Philip,” he said at length, “I have come hither to beg the hand of thy fair sister; why is she not with us?” Falkenstein was filled with amazement.

“Sire,” he stammered, “I fear me thou wilt find my sister an unwilling bride.  She has refused many nobles of high estate, and I doubt whether even a crown will tempt her.  However, I will plead with her for thy sake.”

He left the room to seek Guta’s bower, but soon returned with dejected mien.  “It is as I thought, sire,” he said.  “She will not be moved.  Methinks some heedless knight hath stolen her heart, for she hath grown pale and drooping as a gathered blossom.”

Richard raised his visor.

“Knowest thou me, sir knight?” he said.

“Thou art—­the knight of the tourney,” cried Philip in amaze.

“The same,” answered Richard, smiling.  “And I am the knight who has won thy fair sister’s heart.  We plighted our troth after the tourney of Cologne.  State affairs of the gravest import have kept me from her side, where I would fain have been these six months past.  Take this token”—­drawing from his breast the glove Guta had given him—­“and tell her that a poor knight in Richard’s train sends her this.”

In a little while Philip returned with his sister.  The maiden looked pale and agitated, but when she beheld Richard she rushed to him and was clasped in his arms.

“My own Guta,” he whispered fondly.  “And wouldst thou refuse an emperor to marry me?”

“Yea, truly,” answered the maid, “a hundred emperors.  I feared thou hadst forsaken me altogether,” she added naively.

Richard laughed.

“Would I be a worthy Emperor an I did not keep my troth with such as thou?” he asked.

“The Emperor—­thou?” cried Guta, starting back.

“Yea, the Emperor, and none other,” said her brother reverently.  And once more Guta hid her face on Richard’s breast.

Within a week they were married, and Guta accompanied her husband to the court as Empress of Germany.

To the castle where his bride had passed her maidenhood Richard gave the name of Gutenfels—­’Rock of Guta’—­which name it has retained to this day.

The Story of Schoenburg