Part 52 (1/2)
”So after that often and often I said in my prayers: 'O G.o.d, grant me death, for Thou seest that it is impossible for me to attain her, and impossible for me to be without her!' And that was before I had hoped for the favor of seeing thee in life again--thou, the only one in the world--thou, beloved!”
As he said this he bent toward her and touched her arm with his temple.
”Thou,” whispered he, ”art as that blood which gives life to me, as that sun in the heavens. The mercy of G.o.d is upon me, that I see thee once more-- O beloved! beloved!”
And it seemed to her that Yatsek was singing some marvellous song at that moment. Her eyes were filled with a wave of tears then, and a wave of happiness flooded her heart. Again there was silence between them; but she wept long with such a sweet weeping as she had never known in her life till that morning.
”Yatsek,” said she at last, ”why have we so tormented each other?”
”G.o.d 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, pus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ning 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.
And he galloped off to the company. But the delightful reality embraced them anew. They began to look on each other, and sink in the eyes of each other.
”O, thou not-to-be-looked-at-sufficiently!” said Yatsek.
But she lowered her eyes, smiled at the corners of her mouth till dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks, and asked in a whisper,--
”But is not Panna Zbierhovski more beautiful?”
Yatsek looked at her with amazement.
”What, Panna Zbierhovski?”
She made no answer; she simply laughed in her fist, with a laugh as resonant as a silver bell.
Meanwhile, when the priest had galloped to the company, the men, who loved Yatsek, fell to inquiring,--
”Well, how is it there? How is our wounded man?”
”He is no longer in this world!” replied Father Voynovski.