principality. The charcoal burner, the mountain sawyer, the wielder

of the broad axe among the congregated pines of Grunewald, proud of

their hard hands, proud of their shrewd ignorance and almost savage

lore, looked with an unfeigned contempt on the soft character and

manners of the sovereign race.

The precise year of grace in which this tale begins shall be left to

the conjecture of the reader. But for the season of the year

(which, in such a story, is the more important of the two) it was

already so far forward in the spring, that when mountain people

heard horns echoing all day about the north-west corner of the

principality, they told themselves that Prince Otto and his hunt

were up and out for the last time till the return of autumn.

At this point the borders of Grunewald descend somewhat steeply,

here and there breaking into crags; and this shaggy and trackless

country stands in a bold contrast to the cultivated plain below. It

was traversed at that period by two roads alone; one, the imperial

highway, bound to Brandenau in Gerolstein, descended the slope

obliquely and by the easiest gradients. The other ran like a fillet

across the very forehead of the hills, dipping into savage gorges,

and wetted by the spray of tiny waterfalls. Once it passed beside a

certain tower or castle, built sheer upon the margin of a formidable

cliff, and commanding a vast prospect of the skirts of Grunewald and

the busy plains of Gerolstein. The Felsenburg (so this tower was

called) served now as a prison, now as a hunting-seat; and for all

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