Between two hills was a decrepit hall. Of what manner of architecture had gone into its spirit and flesh, I could not tell. The profuse and overgrown garden around it--the wild apple trees that climbed and fought with one another--obscured its age and look. It was as if each step changed the hall, and the lengthening shadows hinted at its great age, a history spoken in a forgotten language." Ada Ludenow returns to the Harz Mountains of Germany...