It lit up the face of a man bending over the dial of a watch and above him and about him the wooden rafters and walls came dimly into view.

The face was stout and burned by the sun to the colour of a ripe apple, and in spite of a black heavy moustache had a merry and good-humoured look.

Little gold earrings twinkled in his ears by the light of the match.

Annoyance clouded his face as he remarked the time.
"Verdammt! Verdammt!" he muttered.
The match burned out, and for a while he listened to the wind wailing about the hut, plucking at the door and the shutters of the window.

He climbed down from the shelf with a rustle of straw, walked lightly for a moment or two about the hut, and then pulled open the door quickly.