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.

The sight of this picture had decided Wilhelm Eynhardt not to go any
further. The others had resolved to push on to Triberg the same day,
and above all, not to turn back till they had bathed in the Boden-
see. As every persuasion was powerless to alter Eynhardt's decision,
they separated, and the travelers started on their walk to Triberg.
Eynhardt, however, stayed at Hornberg, meaning to climb to the
Schloss hotel again from the other side.

Wilhelm Eynhardt was a young man of twenty-four, tall and slim of
figure, with a strikingly handsome face. His eyes were almond-
shaped, not large but very dark, with much charm of expression. The
finely-marked eyebrows served by their raven blackness to emphasize
the whiteness of the forehead, which was crowned by an abundant mass
of curling black hair. His fresh complexion had still the bloom of
early youth, and would hardly have betrayed his age, if it had not
been shaded by a dark brown silky beard, which had never known a
razor. It was an entirely uncommon type, recalling in profile,
Antinous, and the full face reminding one of the St. Sebastian of
Guido Roni in the museum of the Capitol; a face of the noblest