Then the Emperor knew not what to do for joy. He offered his daughter to the soldier to wife, or, if he liked it better, the half of his kingdom. But the young man declined both offers and returned to his own ladies, where he married the youngest with the greatest festivities. As they came out of church to go to their house a new city sprang up all along the roadside. The hilarity was great. I myself was among the guests, and after I had made merry to my heart's content I set out upon the way home to Varazdin. "Did you ever live in Varazdin, grandmother?" asked the little boy. "No, surely not," said the grandmother. "That is just the way the story ends." "Oh!" said the little boy. CHAPTER XIX IN THE FIELDS Spring was coming on finely, and everybody was at work in the fields--everybody, that is, who was not in the army. From every one of the wooden houses that stood on either side of the highway, with their gable ends to the street, had gone a son, a husband, a laborer to the war that was waging so fiercely, no one quite knew where. The little boy's married brother had gone to the nearest garrison town. He had barely had time to make the acquaintance of his little new-born daughter when he was summoned. He went very willingly--all of them did. There was not a man in the village who did not adore the Emperor, who was not ready to die for him, though not one of them had ever seen him. So there were few men to work in the fields, and all the women and girls must go. This they were used to; it was so every year. The little boy's mother was there, and his sisters, the eldest one wearing in her hair the flowers that showed that she was betrothed. As far as one could see over the wide, treeless plain there were women and girls working, with only here and there a man who, like the starosta, was needed for the affairs of the village, or who, like the moujiks who looked after the sheep, were too old to go. The little boy was very proud when his father let him go to the field and help drop the seed into the furrows. He was thus at work when an old moujik came along and stood watching them. He was a very ragged old moujik, for he was very poor; but he was a polite old man, as all Russian peasants are, and when the little boy's mother came along with her hoe, covering up the seed, he lifted his greasy old shapka to her with great courtesy. "It's a good thing that the little boy is at work," said the old moujik. "They can't begin too early. There is much to do in God's blessed world." "It is only for a little while," said the mother. "I shall send him to school soon." "Ah, school, school!" said the old moujik, shaking his head. "It only takes the children's time when they ought to be at work; it costs money, and what good does it do? There were no schools in my time." The little boy was tired when dinner-time came, and his mother left him at home with the grandmother.