Below lay the little town of Hornberg, with its crooked
streets and alleys, its stately square, framing an old church,
several inns, and prosperous-looking houses and shops. Beyond the
valley rose a high, steep hill, with a white path climbing in
zigzags through its wooded sides. On the summit a white house with
many windows was perched, seeming to hang perpendicularly a thousand
feet above the valley. Its whitewashed walls stood out sharply
against the background of green pine trees, clearly visible for many
miles round. A conspicuous inscription in large black letters showed
that this audacious and picturesque house was the Schloss hotel, and
a glance at the gray ruined tower which rose behind it gave at once
a meaning to the name. Behind the hill, with its outline softened by
trees and encircled by the blue sky, were ridges of other hills in
parallel lines meeting the horizon, alternately sharp-edged and
rounded, stretching from north to south. They seemed like some great
sea, with majestic wave-hills and wave-valleys; behind the first
appeared a second, then a third, then a fourth, as far as one's eye
could see; each one of a distinct tone of color, and of all the
shades from the deepest green through blue and violet to vaporous
pale gray.
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