"God has rewarded us a hundred fold," said he in answer.
And for the third time there was silence between them; only the wagon squeaked on, pushing forward slowly over the ruts of the roadway. Beyond the forest they came out onto great fields bathed in sunlight; on those fields wheat was rustling, dotted richly with red poppies and blue star thistles. There was great calm in that region. Above fields on which the grain had been reaped, here and there skylarks were soaring, lost in song, motionless; on the edges of the fields sickles glittered in the distance; from the remoter green pastures came the cries and songs of men herding cattle. And to both it seemed that the wheat was rustling because of them; that the poppies and star thistles were blooming because of them; that, the larks were singing because of them; that the calls of the herdsmen were uttered because of them; that all the sunny peace of those fields and all those voices were simply repeating their ecstasy and happiness.
They were roused from this oblivion by Father Voynovski, who had pushed up unnoticed to the wagon.
"How art thou, Yatsus?" asked he.
Yatsek trembled and looked with shining eyes at him, as if just roused from slumber.
"What is it, benefactor?"
"How art thou?"
"Eh! it will not be better in paradise!"
The priest looked seriously first at him, then at the young lady.
"Is that true?" asked he.