ises a tall pole with a
starling house; over each tiny porch is an openwork iron horse's head
with a stiff mane.[69] The uneven window-panes sparkle with the hues of
the rainbow. Jugs holding bouquets are painted on the shutters. In front
of each cottage stands sedately a precise little bench; on the earthen
banks around the foundations of the house cats lie curled in balls, with
their transparent ears pricked up on the alert; behind the lofty
thresholds the anterooms look dark and cool.

I am lying on the very brink of the ravine, on an outspread horse-cloth;
round about are whole heaps of new-mown hay, which is fragrant to the
point of inducing faintness. The sagacious householders have spread out
the hay in front of their cottages: let it dry a little more in the hot
sun, and then away with it to the barn! It will be a glorious place for
a nap!

The curly heads of children project from each haycock; crested hens are
searching in the hay for gnats and small beetles; a white-toothed puppy
is sprawling among the tangled blades of grass.

Ruddy-curled youths in clean, low-girt shirts, and heavy boots with
borders, are bandying lively remarks as they stand with their breasts
resting on the unhitched carts, and display their teeth in a grin.

From a window a round-faced lass peeps out; she laughs, partly at their
words, and partly at the pranks of the children in the heaped-up hay.

Another lass with her sturdy arms is drawing a huge, dripping bucket
from the well.... The bucket trembles and rocks on the rope, scattering
long, fiery drops.

In front of me stands an aged housewife in a new-checked petticoat of
homespun and new peasant-shoes.

Large inflated beads in three rows encircle her thin, swarthy neck; her
grey hair is bound about with a yellow kerchief with red dots; it droops
low over her dimmed eyes.

But her aged eyes smile in cordial wise; her whole wrinkled face smiles.
The old woman must be in her seventh decade ... and even now it can be
seen that she was a beauty in her day!

With the sunburned fingers of her right hand widely spread apart, she
holds a pot of cool, unskimmed milk, straight from the cellar; the sides
of the pot are covered with dewdrops, like small pearl beads. On the
palm of her left hand the old woman offers me a big slice of bread still
warm from the oven. As much as to say: "Eat, and may health be thine,
thou passing guest!"

A cock suddenly crows and busily flaps his wings; a