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
it stood so lonesome to the naked eye, with the aid of a good glass
the burghers of Brandenau could count its windows from the lime-tree
terrace where they walked at night.

In the wedge of forest hillside enclosed between the roads, the
horns continued all day long to scatter tumult; and at length, as
the sun began to draw near to the horizon of the plain, a rousing
triumph announced the slaughter of the quarry. The first and second
huntsman had drawn somewhat aside, and from the summit of a knoll
gazed down before them on the drooping shoulders of the hill and
across the expanse of plain. They covered their eyes, for the sun
was in their faces. The glory of its going down was somewhat pale.
Through the confused tracery of many thousands of naked poplars, the
smoke of so many houses, and the evening steam ascending from the
fields, the sails of a windmill on a gentle eminence moved very
conspicuously, like a donkey's ears. And hard by, like an open
gash, the imperial high-road ran straight sun-ward, an artery of
travel.