his hair and brows, eyes, nose, mouth; he snapped his fingers at the
rain, lifted a foot now and again as if he were about to dance, shook
his head sometimes, when there was too much water in the hair, and
sang at the top of his voice without knowing what he was singing, so
pre-occupied was he with the rain:

Had I, oh had I a grandson, trala,
And a chest with heaps and heaps of gold,
Then very likely had I had a daughter, trala,
And house and home and meadows untold.

Had I, oh had I a daughter dear, trala,
And house and home and meadows untold,
Then very like had I had a sweetheart, trala.
And a chest with heaps and heaps of gold.

There he stood and sang in the rain, but yonder between the dark
hazelbushes the head of a little girl was peeping out. A long end of
her shawl of red silk had become entangled in a branch which projected
a little beyond the others, and from time to time a small hand went
forward and tugged at the end, but this had no other result, further
than to produce a little shower of rain from the branch and its
neighbors. The rest of the shawl lay close round the little girl's
head and hid half of the brow; it shaded the eyes, then turned
abruptly and became lost among the leaves, but reappeared in a big
rosette of folds underneath the girl's chin. The face of the little
girl looked very astonished, she was just about to laugh; the smile
already hovered in the eyes. Suddenly he, who stood there singing in
the midst of the downpour, took a few steps to the side, saw the red
shawl, the face, the big brown eyes, the astonished little open mouth;