less idiots. Henceforth the village green
was deserted; no more were seen the lads and lasses dancing there on the
Sabbath day.

The Loewenburg

Tradition asserts that on the summit of this mountain once stood a
castle, of which, however, not the slightest trace can be found at the
present day. There is also a story of the lord who dwelt there, Hermann
von Heinsberg, with whom, for his sins, the direct line of the family
became extinct.

Graf Hermann was possessed by one overmastering passion, that of the
chase. The greater part of his life was spent in the dense forests which
clothed the valleys and mountains about his castle. Every other interest
must, perforce, stand aside. The cornfields, vineyards, and gardens of
his vassals were oftentimes devastated in his sport, to the utter ruin
of many. If any dared complain he laughed at or reviled them; but if he
were in angry mood he set his hounds on them and hunted his vassals as
quarry, either killing them outright or leaving them terribly injured.
Needless to say, he was well hated by these people, also by his own
class, for his character was too fierce and overbearing even for their
tolerance. To crown his unpopularity, he was under the ban of the
all-powerful Church, for saints' days and Lord's Day alike he hunted
to his heart's content, and once, on receiving a remonstrance, had
threatened to hunt the Abbot of Heisterbach himself. So he lived,
isolated, except for his troop of jaegers, from the rest of mankind. The
forest was his world, his only friends the hounds.

Once, on the eve of a holy festival, Hermann set out to hunt in the
ancient forest about the base of the Loewenburg. In the excitement of
the chase he outstripped his followers, his quarry disappeared, and,
overtaken by night, his surroundings, in the dim light, took on such an
unfamiliar aspect that he completely lost all sense of direction. Up and
down he paced in unrestrained yet impotent anger, feeling that he was
under some evil spell. Maddened by this idea, he endeavoured to hack
his way through the thick undergrowth, but the matted boughs and dense
foliage were as effectual as prison bars. He was trapped, he told
himself, in some enchanted forest, for the place seemed more and more
unfamiliar. He strove to bring back some recollection of the spot,
which surely he must have passed a thousand times. But no--he could not
distinguish any feature that seemed familiar. His spirits sank lower and
low