Hill and valley alternated with each other, all forest clad, and many a mighty and moss-grown trunk in that great wilderness told of the forest primeval which in the early days had covered all this part of South Germany.  Elsewhere in the land, railways had been built, until there was scarcely a hamlet whose slumbers were undisturbed by the shrill scream of the locomotive—­but “the forest,” as the people called it, remained apart, cut off from the world, a vast territory many miles in width, like a great, green island, unmoved by the waves of commotion and progress from without.

Here and there amid the forest green a little village peeped out, or an old castle reared its gray and weather-beaten battlements on high, as if protesting against its impending decay.  There was but one building in the whole region which yet stood strong, intact and massive, notwithstanding it was gray with age.

It was called Fuerstenstein, and was originally built as a hunting box, for the use of the sovereign.  The duke’s head forester occupied it all the year round; and during the hunting season some members of the ducal family always held court there for several weeks.  It had been built in the early part of the last century, with the lavish waste of room which marked the style of that period.  Standing on a high elevation, it commanded a superb view over the surrounding country.

The approach to the castle allowed no view of its proportions, for woods covered the hill upon which it stood, and in places tall fir trees threw their shadows on tower and turret, so that one scarcely realized the immensity of the building until he stood quite at the entrance gate.  There were also a number of little structures clustering around the main edifice, which had been added at different periods.  Time was not allowed to make inroads here; everything was in perfect order and repair, and the countless rooms on the second floor were always kept ready for the prince, who took possession of them at any time.

The head forester, von Schoenau, had occupied the immense ground floor for years, and between filling his house with guests, and making frequent visits to his neighbors, managed to have a very agreeable time, notwithstanding the lonely situation.

He had visitors now; his sister-in-law, Frau Regine von Eschenhagen had arrived yesterday, and her son was expected soon.  The two daughters of the Wallmoden family had made good marriages; while the elder married the heir to Burgsdorf, the younger had wedded Herr von Schoenau, the son of a wealthy landed gentleman of a noble South German family.

The sisters, in spite of the distance which separated them, had always maintained a close and affectionate intercourse, and since Frau von Schoenau’s death, which occurred a few years after her marriage, Frau Regine had kept up the intimacy with her brother-in-law.