o a hissing--rain was pouring
down. Everything gleamed, sparkled, spluttered. Leaves, branches,
trunks, everything shone with moisture; every little drop that fell on
earth, on grass, on the fence, on whatever it was, broke and scattered
in a thousand delicate pearls. Little drops hung for a while and became
big drops, trickled down elsewhere, joined with other drops, formed
small rivulets, disappeared into tiny furrows, ran into big holes and
out of small ones, sailed away laden with dust, chips of wood and ragged
bits of foliage, caused them to run aground, set them afloat, whirled
them round and again caused them to ground. Leaves, which had been
separated since they were in the bud, were reunited by the flood; moss,
that had almost vanished in the dryness, expanded and became soft,
crinkly, green and juicy; and gray lichens which nearly had turned to
snuff, spread their delicate ends, puffed up like brocade and with a
sheen like that of silk. The convolvuluses let their white crowns be
filled to the brim, drank healths to each other, and emptied the water
over the heads of the nettles. The fat black wood-snails crawled forward
on their stomachs with a will, and looked approvingly towards the
sky. And the man? The man was standing bareheaded in the midst of the
downpour, letting the drops revel in 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