it was as quiet there as in a church. no wind stirred, no brook murmured, no bird sang, and through the thickly-leaved branches no sunbeam forced its way. the shoemaker spoke never a word, the heavy bread weighed down his back until the perspiration streamed down his cross and gloomy face. the tailor, however, was quite merry, he jumped about, whistled on a leaf, or sang a song, and thought to himself, "god in heaven must be pleased to see me so happy."