The Snow Queen Part 1
There was once a dreadfully wicked hobgoblin. One day he was in capital spirits because he had made a looking glass which reflected everything that was good and beautiful in such a way that it dwindled almost to nothing, but anything that was bad and ugly stood out very clearly and looked much worse.
There was once a dreadfully wicked hobgoblin. One day he was in capital spirits because he had made a looking glass which reflected everything that was good and beautiful in such a way that it dwindled almost to nothing, but anything that was bad and ugly stood out very clearly and looked much worse.
The most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best people looked repulsive or seemed to stand on their heads with no bodies; their faces were so changed that they could not be recognised, and if anyone had a freckle you might be sure it would be spread over the nose and mouth. That was the best part of it, according to the hobgoblin.
But one day the looking glass was dropped, and it broke into a million-billion and more pieces. Now came the greatest misfortune of all, for each of the pieces was hardly as large as a grain of sand and they flew about all over the world - and if anyone had a bit in his eye there it stayed, and then he would see everything awry, or else could only see the bad sides of a case. For every tiny splinter of the glass possessed the same power that the whole glass had.
Some people got a splinter in their hearts, and that was dreadful, for then it began to turn into a lump of ice. The hobgoblin laughed until his sides ached, but still the tiny bits of glass flew about.
And now we will hear all about it.
In a large town, where there were so many people and houses that there was not room enough for everybody to have gardens, lived two poor children. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they were. Their parents lived opposite one another in two attics, and out on the leads they had put two boxes filled with flowers. There were sweet peas in it, and two rose trees, which grow beautifully, and in summer the two children were allowed to take their little chairs and sit out under the roses. Then they had splendid games.
In the winter they could not do this, but then they put hot pennies against the frozen window panes, and made round holes to look at each other through.
His name was Kay, and hers was Gerda.
Outside it was snowing fast. "Those are the white bees swarming," said the old grandmother.
"Have they also a queen bee?" Asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees have one.
"To be sure," said the grandmother. "She flies wherever they swarm the thickest. She is larger than any of them, and never stays upon the earth, but flies again up into the black clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets, and peeps in at all the windows, and then they freeze in such pretty patterns and look like flowers."
"Yes, we have seen that," said both children; they knew that it was true.
"Can the Snow Queen come in here?" Asked the little girl.
"Just let her!" Cried the boy. "I would put her on the stove, and melt her!"
But one day the looking glass was dropped, and it broke into a million-billion and more pieces. Now came the greatest misfortune of all, for each of the pieces was hardly as large as a grain of sand and they flew about all over the world - and if anyone had a bit in his eye there it stayed, and then he would see everything awry, or else could only see the bad sides of a case. For every tiny splinter of the glass possessed the same power that the whole glass had.
Some people got a splinter in their hearts, and that was dreadful, for then it began to turn into a lump of ice. The hobgoblin laughed until his sides ached, but still the tiny bits of glass flew about.
And now we will hear all about it.
In a large town, where there were so many people and houses that there was not room enough for everybody to have gardens, lived two poor children. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they were. Their parents lived opposite one another in two attics, and out on the leads they had put two boxes filled with flowers. There were sweet peas in it, and two rose trees, which grow beautifully, and in summer the two children were allowed to take their little chairs and sit out under the roses. Then they had splendid games.
In the winter they could not do this, but then they put hot pennies against the frozen window panes, and made round holes to look at each other through.
His name was Kay, and hers was Gerda.
Outside it was snowing fast. "Those are the white bees swarming," said the old grandmother.
"Have they also a queen bee?" Asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees have one.
"To be sure," said the grandmother. "She flies wherever they swarm the thickest. She is larger than any of them, and never stays upon the earth, but flies again up into the black clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets, and peeps in at all the windows, and then they freeze in such pretty patterns and look like flowers."
"Yes, we have seen that," said both children; they knew that it was true.
"Can the Snow Queen come in here?" Asked the little girl.
"Just let her!" Cried the boy. "I would put her on the stove, and melt her!"
The grandmother stroked his hair, and told some more stories.
In the evening, when little Kay was going to bed, he jumped on the chair by the window, and looked through the little hole. A few snowflakes were falling outside, and one of the largest lay on the edge of one of the window boxes. The snowflake grew larger and larger until it took the form of a maiden, dressed in finest white gauze.
She was so beautiful and dainty, but all of ice, hard bright ice.
Still she was alive; her eyes glittered like two clear stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She nodded at the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and sprang down from the chair. It seemed as if a great white bird had flown past the window.
The next day there was a harder frost than before. Then came the spring, and then the summer, when the roses grew and smelled more beautiful than ever.
Kay and Gerda were looking at one of their picture books. The clock in the great church tower had just struck five, when Kay exclaimed, "Oh! Something has stung my heart, and I’ve got something in my eye!"
The little girl threw her arms around his neck; he winked hard with both his eyes, but no, she could see nothing in them.
"I think it is gone now," said he - but it had not gone. It was one of the tiny splinters of the glass of the magic mirror which we have heard about, that turned everything great and good reflected in it small and ugly. Poor Kay had also a splinter in his heart, and it began to change into a lump of ice. It did not hurt him at all, but the splinter was there all the same.
"Why are you crying?" He asked. "It makes you look so ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me. Just look! That rose is all slug-eaten, and this one is stunted! What ugly roses they are!" And he began to pull them to pieces.
"Kay, what are you doing?" Cried the little girl.
When he saw how frightened she was, he pulled off another rose, and ran in at his window away from dear little Gerda.
When she came later on with the picture book, he said that it was only fit for babies, and when his grandmother told them stories, he was always interrupting with, "But–" and then he would get behind her and put on her spectacles, and speak just as she did. This he did very well, and everybody laughed. Very soon he could imitate the way all the people in the street walked and talked.
His games were now quite different. On a winter’s day he would take a burning glass and hold it out on his blue coat and let the snowflakes fall on it.
"Look in the glass, Gerda! Just see how regular they are! They are much more interesting than real flowers. Each is perfect; they are all made according to rule.
In the evening, when little Kay was going to bed, he jumped on the chair by the window, and looked through the little hole. A few snowflakes were falling outside, and one of the largest lay on the edge of one of the window boxes. The snowflake grew larger and larger until it took the form of a maiden, dressed in finest white gauze.
She was so beautiful and dainty, but all of ice, hard bright ice.
Still she was alive; her eyes glittered like two clear stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She nodded at the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and sprang down from the chair. It seemed as if a great white bird had flown past the window.
The next day there was a harder frost than before. Then came the spring, and then the summer, when the roses grew and smelled more beautiful than ever.
Kay and Gerda were looking at one of their picture books. The clock in the great church tower had just struck five, when Kay exclaimed, "Oh! Something has stung my heart, and I’ve got something in my eye!"
The little girl threw her arms around his neck; he winked hard with both his eyes, but no, she could see nothing in them.
"I think it is gone now," said he - but it had not gone. It was one of the tiny splinters of the glass of the magic mirror which we have heard about, that turned everything great and good reflected in it small and ugly. Poor Kay had also a splinter in his heart, and it began to change into a lump of ice. It did not hurt him at all, but the splinter was there all the same.
"Why are you crying?" He asked. "It makes you look so ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me. Just look! That rose is all slug-eaten, and this one is stunted! What ugly roses they are!" And he began to pull them to pieces.
"Kay, what are you doing?" Cried the little girl.
When he saw how frightened she was, he pulled off another rose, and ran in at his window away from dear little Gerda.
When she came later on with the picture book, he said that it was only fit for babies, and when his grandmother told them stories, he was always interrupting with, "But–" and then he would get behind her and put on her spectacles, and speak just as she did. This he did very well, and everybody laughed. Very soon he could imitate the way all the people in the street walked and talked.
His games were now quite different. On a winter’s day he would take a burning glass and hold it out on his blue coat and let the snowflakes fall on it.
"Look in the glass, Gerda! Just see how regular they are! They are much more interesting than real flowers. Each is perfect; they are all made according to rule.
If only they did not melt!"
One morning Kay came out with his warm gloves on, and his little sledge hung over his shoulder. He shouted to Gerda, "I am going to the marketplace to play with the other boys," and away he went.
In the marketplace the boldest boys often used to fasten their sledges to the carts of the farmers, and then they got a good ride. When they were in the middle of their games, there drove into the square a large sledge, all white, and in it sat a figure dressed in a rough white fur pelisse with a white fur cap on.
The sledge drove twice around the square, and Kay fastened his little sledge behind it and drove off. It went quicker and quicker into the next street. The driver turned around, and nodded to Kay in a friendly way as if they had known each other before. Every time that Kay tried to unfasten his sledge the driver nodded again, and Kay sat still once more.
One morning Kay came out with his warm gloves on, and his little sledge hung over his shoulder. He shouted to Gerda, "I am going to the marketplace to play with the other boys," and away he went.
In the marketplace the boldest boys often used to fasten their sledges to the carts of the farmers, and then they got a good ride. When they were in the middle of their games, there drove into the square a large sledge, all white, and in it sat a figure dressed in a rough white fur pelisse with a white fur cap on.
The sledge drove twice around the square, and Kay fastened his little sledge behind it and drove off. It went quicker and quicker into the next street. The driver turned around, and nodded to Kay in a friendly way as if they had known each other before. Every time that Kay tried to unfasten his sledge the driver nodded again, and Kay sat still once more.
Then they drove out of the town, and the snow began to fall so thickly that the little boy could not see his hand before him, and on and on they went. He quickly unfastened the cord to get loose from the big sledge, but it was of no use; his little sledge hung on fast, and it went on like the wind. He cried out, but nobody heard him. He was dreadfully frightened.
The snowflakes grew larger and larger until they looked like great white birds.
The snowflakes grew larger and larger until they looked like great white birds.
All at once they flew aside, the large sledge stood still, and the figure who was driving stood up. The fur cloak and cap were all of snow.
It was a lady, tall and slim, and glittering. It was the Snow Queen.
"We have come at a good rate," she said, "but you are almost frozen. Creep in under my cloak." She set him close to her in the sledge and drew the cloak over him. He felt as though he were sinking into a snow drift.
"Are you cold now?" She asked, and kissed his forehead. The kiss was cold as ice and reached down to his heart, which was already half a lump of ice.
"My sledge! Don’t forget my sledge!" He thought of that first, and it was fastened to one of the great white birds who flew behind with the sledge on its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda, his grandmother, and everybody at home.
"Now I must not kiss you any more," she said, "or else I should kiss you to death."
Then away they flew over forests and lakes, over sea and land. Around them whistled the cold wind, the wolves howled, and the snow hissed; over them flew the black shrieking crows. High up the moon shone large and bright, and thus Kay passed the long winter night. In the day he slept at the Snow Queen’s feet.
Gerda goes in search of her friend Kay who has been kidnapped by the beautiful Snow Queen. Her journey brings her to a witch with a lovely garden where it is always warm summer. Gerda forgets all about Kay until she notices that just one flower is missing from the garden.
She meets a friendly crow who says he has seen a boy who looks like Kay. He is now living in a splendid palace.
The third and final part will follow shortly.
Proofread by Claire Deakin.
Read by Natasha. Duration 22.41
What happened to little Gerda when Kay did not come back? What had become of him? Nobody knew. The other boys told how they had seen him fasten his sledge on to a large one which had driven out of the town gate.
Gerda cried a great deal. The winter was long and dark to her. Then the spring came with warm sunshine. "I will go and look for Kay," said Gerda.
So she went down to the river and got into a little boat that was there. Presently the stream began to carry it away.
"Perhaps the river will take me to Kay," thought Gerda. She glided down, past trees and fields, until she came to a large cherry garden, in which stood a little house with strange red and blue windows and a straw roof. Before the door stood two wooden soldiers, who were shouldering arms.
Gerda called to them, but they naturally did not answer. The river carried the boat on to the land.
Gerda called out still louder, and there came out of the house a very old woman. She leaned upon a crutch, and she wore a large sunhat which was painted with the most beautiful flowers.
"You poor little girl!" Said the old woman. Then she stepped into the water, brought the boat in close with her crutch, and lifted little Gerda out.
"Now come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," she said. Gerda told her everything, and asked her if she had seen Kay. She said he had not passed that way yet, but he would soon come. She also told Gerda not to be sad, and that she should stay with her and take of the cherry trees and flowers, which were better than any picture book, as they could each tell a story.
She then took Gerda’s hand and led her into the little house and shut the door.
"We have come at a good rate," she said, "but you are almost frozen. Creep in under my cloak." She set him close to her in the sledge and drew the cloak over him. He felt as though he were sinking into a snow drift.
"Are you cold now?" She asked, and kissed his forehead. The kiss was cold as ice and reached down to his heart, which was already half a lump of ice.
"My sledge! Don’t forget my sledge!" He thought of that first, and it was fastened to one of the great white birds who flew behind with the sledge on its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda, his grandmother, and everybody at home.
"Now I must not kiss you any more," she said, "or else I should kiss you to death."
Then away they flew over forests and lakes, over sea and land. Around them whistled the cold wind, the wolves howled, and the snow hissed; over them flew the black shrieking crows. High up the moon shone large and bright, and thus Kay passed the long winter night. In the day he slept at the Snow Queen’s feet.
The Snow Queen Part 2
Gerda goes in search of her friend Kay who has been kidnapped by the beautiful Snow Queen. Her journey brings her to a witch with a lovely garden where it is always warm summer. Gerda forgets all about Kay until she notices that just one flower is missing from the garden.
She meets a friendly crow who says he has seen a boy who looks like Kay. He is now living in a splendid palace.
The third and final part will follow shortly.
Proofread by Claire Deakin.
Read by Natasha. Duration 22.41
What happened to little Gerda when Kay did not come back? What had become of him? Nobody knew. The other boys told how they had seen him fasten his sledge on to a large one which had driven out of the town gate.
Gerda cried a great deal. The winter was long and dark to her. Then the spring came with warm sunshine. "I will go and look for Kay," said Gerda.
So she went down to the river and got into a little boat that was there. Presently the stream began to carry it away.
"Perhaps the river will take me to Kay," thought Gerda. She glided down, past trees and fields, until she came to a large cherry garden, in which stood a little house with strange red and blue windows and a straw roof. Before the door stood two wooden soldiers, who were shouldering arms.
Gerda called to them, but they naturally did not answer. The river carried the boat on to the land.
Gerda called out still louder, and there came out of the house a very old woman. She leaned upon a crutch, and she wore a large sunhat which was painted with the most beautiful flowers.
"You poor little girl!" Said the old woman. Then she stepped into the water, brought the boat in close with her crutch, and lifted little Gerda out.
"Now come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," she said. Gerda told her everything, and asked her if she had seen Kay. She said he had not passed that way yet, but he would soon come. She also told Gerda not to be sad, and that she should stay with her and take of the cherry trees and flowers, which were better than any picture book, as they could each tell a story.
She then took Gerda’s hand and led her into the little house and shut the door.
The windows were very high, and the panes were red, blue, and yellow, so that the light came through in curious colours. On the table were the most delicious cherries, and the old woman let Gerda eat as many as she liked, while she combed her hair with a golden comb as she ate.
Her beautiful sunny hair rippled and shone around her dear little face, which was so soft and sweet. "I have always longed to have a dear little girl just like you, and you shall see how happy we will be together."
As she combed Gerda’s hair, Gerda thought less and less about Kay; for the old woman was a witch, but not a wicked witch, for she only enchanted now and then to amuse herself, and she did want to keep little Gerda very much. So she went into the garden and waved her stick over all the rose bushes and blossoms and all.
Her beautiful sunny hair rippled and shone around her dear little face, which was so soft and sweet. "I have always longed to have a dear little girl just like you, and you shall see how happy we will be together."
As she combed Gerda’s hair, Gerda thought less and less about Kay; for the old woman was a witch, but not a wicked witch, for she only enchanted now and then to amuse herself, and she did want to keep little Gerda very much. So she went into the garden and waved her stick over all the rose bushes and blossoms and all.
They sank down into the black earth, and no one could see where they had been. The old woman was afraid that if Gerda saw the roses she would begin to think about her own, and then would remember Kay and run away.
She led Gerda out into the garden. How glorious it was, and what lovely scents filled the air! All the flowers you can think of blossomed there all the year round.
She led Gerda out into the garden. How glorious it was, and what lovely scents filled the air! All the flowers you can think of blossomed there all the year round.
Gerda jumped for joy and played there until the sun set behind the tall cherry trees, and then she slept in a beautiful bed with red silk pillows filled with violets, and she slept soundly and dreamed as a queen does on her wedding day.
The next day she played again with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and so many days passed by. Gerda knew every flower, but although there were so many, it seemed to her as if one were not there, though she could not remember which.
She was looking one day at the old woman’s sun hat which had the painted flowers on it, and there she saw a rose. The witch had forgotten to make that vanish when she had made the other roses disappear under the earth. It was so difficult to think of everything.
"Why, there are no roses here!" Gerda cried, and she hunted amongst all the flowers, but not one was to be found. Then she sat down and cried, but her tears fell just on the spot where a rose bush had sunk, and when her warm tears watered the earth, the bush came up in full bloom just as it had been before. Gerda kissed the roses and thought of the lovely roses at home, and with them came the thought of little Kay.
"Oh, what have I been doing!" Said the little girl. "I wanted to look for Kay." She ran to the end of the garden. The gate was shut, but she pushed against the rusty lock so that it came open.
She ran out with her little bare feet. No one came after her. At last she could not run any longer, and she sat down on a large stone. When she looked around she saw that the summer was over; it was late autumn. It had not changed in the beautiful garden, where were sunshine and flowers all the year round.
"Oh, dear, how late I have made myself!" Gerda said. "It’s autumn already!
The next day she played again with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and so many days passed by. Gerda knew every flower, but although there were so many, it seemed to her as if one were not there, though she could not remember which.
She was looking one day at the old woman’s sun hat which had the painted flowers on it, and there she saw a rose. The witch had forgotten to make that vanish when she had made the other roses disappear under the earth. It was so difficult to think of everything.
"Why, there are no roses here!" Gerda cried, and she hunted amongst all the flowers, but not one was to be found. Then she sat down and cried, but her tears fell just on the spot where a rose bush had sunk, and when her warm tears watered the earth, the bush came up in full bloom just as it had been before. Gerda kissed the roses and thought of the lovely roses at home, and with them came the thought of little Kay.
"Oh, what have I been doing!" Said the little girl. "I wanted to look for Kay." She ran to the end of the garden. The gate was shut, but she pushed against the rusty lock so that it came open.
She ran out with her little bare feet. No one came after her. At last she could not run any longer, and she sat down on a large stone. When she looked around she saw that the summer was over; it was late autumn. It had not changed in the beautiful garden, where were sunshine and flowers all the year round.
"Oh, dear, how late I have made myself!" Gerda said. "It’s autumn already!
I cannot rest!" She sprang up to run on.
Oh, how tired and sore her little feet grew, and it became colder and colder.
Oh, how tired and sore her little feet grew, and it became colder and colder.
She had to rest again, and there on the snow in front of her was a large crow.
It had been looking at her for some time, and it nodded its head and said, "Caw! Caw! Good day." Then it asked the little girl why she was alone in the world.
It had been looking at her for some time, and it nodded its head and said, "Caw! Caw! Good day." Then it asked the little girl why she was alone in the world.
She told the crow her story, and asked if he had seen Kay. The crow nodded very thoughtfully and said, "It might be! It might be!"
"What! Do you think you have?" Cried the little girl, and she almost squeezed the crow to death as she kissed him.
"Gently, gently!" Said the crow. "I think – I know I think... It might be little Kay, but now he has forgotten you for the princess!"
"Does he live with a princess?" Gerda asked.
"Yes, listen," said the crow; then he told her all he knew.
"In the kingdom, in which we are now sitting, lives a princess who is dreadfully clever. She has read all the newspapers in the world and has forgotten them again. She is as clever as that. The other day she came to the throne, and that is not so pleasant as people think. Then she began to say, “Why should I not marry?”
"What! Do you think you have?" Cried the little girl, and she almost squeezed the crow to death as she kissed him.
"Gently, gently!" Said the crow. "I think – I know I think... It might be little Kay, but now he has forgotten you for the princess!"
"Does he live with a princess?" Gerda asked.
"Yes, listen," said the crow; then he told her all he knew.
"In the kingdom, in which we are now sitting, lives a princess who is dreadfully clever. She has read all the newspapers in the world and has forgotten them again. She is as clever as that. The other day she came to the throne, and that is not so pleasant as people think. Then she began to say, “Why should I not marry?”
But she wanted a husband who could answer when he was spoken to, not one who would stand up stiffly and look respectable – that would be too dull. When she told all the court ladies, they were delighted. You can believe every word I say," said the crow, "I have a tame sweetheart in the palace, and she tells me everything."
Of course his sweetheart was a crow.
"The newspapers came out next morning with a border of hearts round it, and the princess’ monogram on it, and inside you could read that every good looking young man might come into the palace and speak to the princess, and whoever should speak loud enough to be heard would be well fed and looked after, and the one who spoke best should become the princess’ husband. Indeed," said the crow, "you can quite believe me. It is as true as that I am sitting here... Young men came in streams, and there was such a crowding and a mixing together!
Of course his sweetheart was a crow.
"The newspapers came out next morning with a border of hearts round it, and the princess’ monogram on it, and inside you could read that every good looking young man might come into the palace and speak to the princess, and whoever should speak loud enough to be heard would be well fed and looked after, and the one who spoke best should become the princess’ husband. Indeed," said the crow, "you can quite believe me. It is as true as that I am sitting here... Young men came in streams, and there was such a crowding and a mixing together!
But nothing came of it on the first, nor on the second day. They could all speak quite well when they were in the street; but as soon as they came inside the palace door, and saw the guards in silver, and upstairs the footmen in gold, and the great hall all lighted up, then their wits left them! When they stood in front of the throne where the princess was sitting, then they could not think of anything to say except to repeat the last word she had spoken, and she did not much care to hear that again.
It seemed as if they were walking in their sleep until they came out into the street again, when they could speak once more. There was a row stretching from the gate of the town up to the castle."
"They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace they did not even get a glass of water. A few of the cleverest had brought some slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share them with their neighbour; “If he looks hungry, the princess will not take him!” They thought."
"But what about Kay?" Gerda asked. "When did he come? Was he in the crowd?"
"Wait a bit; we are coming to him! On the third day a little figure came without horse or carriage and walked jauntily up to the palace. His eyes shone as yours do; he had lovely curling hair, but quite poor clothes."
"That was Kay!" Cried Gerda with delight. "Oh, then I have found him!"
"They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace they did not even get a glass of water. A few of the cleverest had brought some slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share them with their neighbour; “If he looks hungry, the princess will not take him!” They thought."
"But what about Kay?" Gerda asked. "When did he come? Was he in the crowd?"
"Wait a bit; we are coming to him! On the third day a little figure came without horse or carriage and walked jauntily up to the palace. His eyes shone as yours do; he had lovely curling hair, but quite poor clothes."
"That was Kay!" Cried Gerda with delight. "Oh, then I have found him!"
And she clapped her hands.
"He had a little bundle on his back," said the crow.
"No, it must have been his skates, for he went away with his skates!"
"Very likely," said the crow, "I did not see for certain. But I know this from my sweetheart, that when he came to the palace door and saw the royal guards in silver, and on the stairs the footmen in gold, he was not the least bit put out.
"He had a little bundle on his back," said the crow.
"No, it must have been his skates, for he went away with his skates!"
"Very likely," said the crow, "I did not see for certain. But I know this from my sweetheart, that when he came to the palace door and saw the royal guards in silver, and on the stairs the footmen in gold, he was not the least bit put out.
He nodded to them, saying, “It must be rather dull standing on the stairs;
I would rather go inside! The halls blazed with lights; councillors and ambassadors were walking about in noiseless shoes carrying gold dishes. It was enough to make one nervous! His boots creaked dreadfully loud, but he was not frightened."
"That must be Kay!" Gerda said. "I know he had new boots on; I have heard them creaking in his grandmother’s room!"
"They did creak, certainly!" Said the crow. "And, not one bit afraid, up he went to the princess, who was sitting on a large pearl as round as a spinning wheel. All the ladies-in-waiting were standing around, each with their attendants, and the lords-in-waiting with their attendants. The nearer they stood to the door the prouder they were."
"It must have been dreadful!" Said little Gerda. "And Kay did win the princess?"
"I heard from my tame sweetheart that he was merry and quick-witted; he had not come to woo, he said, but to listen to the princess’ wisdom. The end of it was that they fell in love with each other."
"Oh, yes; that was Kay!" Said Gerda. "He was so clever; he could do sums with fractions. Oh, do lead me to the palace!"
"That’s easily said," answered the crow, "but how are we to manage that? I must talk it over with my tame sweetheart. She may be able to advise us, for I must tell you that a little girl like you could never get permission to enter it."
"Yes, I will get it!" Said Gerda. "When Kay hears that I am there he will come out at once and fetch me!"
"Wait for me by the railings," said the crow, and he nodded his head and flew away.
It was late in the evening when he came back.
"Caw, caw!" He said, "I am to give you her love, and here is a little roll for you.
"That must be Kay!" Gerda said. "I know he had new boots on; I have heard them creaking in his grandmother’s room!"
"They did creak, certainly!" Said the crow. "And, not one bit afraid, up he went to the princess, who was sitting on a large pearl as round as a spinning wheel. All the ladies-in-waiting were standing around, each with their attendants, and the lords-in-waiting with their attendants. The nearer they stood to the door the prouder they were."
"It must have been dreadful!" Said little Gerda. "And Kay did win the princess?"
"I heard from my tame sweetheart that he was merry and quick-witted; he had not come to woo, he said, but to listen to the princess’ wisdom. The end of it was that they fell in love with each other."
"Oh, yes; that was Kay!" Said Gerda. "He was so clever; he could do sums with fractions. Oh, do lead me to the palace!"
"That’s easily said," answered the crow, "but how are we to manage that? I must talk it over with my tame sweetheart. She may be able to advise us, for I must tell you that a little girl like you could never get permission to enter it."
"Yes, I will get it!" Said Gerda. "When Kay hears that I am there he will come out at once and fetch me!"
"Wait for me by the railings," said the crow, and he nodded his head and flew away.
It was late in the evening when he came back.
"Caw, caw!" He said, "I am to give you her love, and here is a little roll for you.
She took it out of the kitchen; there’s plenty there, and you must be hungry.
You cannot come into the palace. The guards in silver and the footmen in gold would not allow it. But don’t cry! You shall get in all right. My sweetheart knows
a little back-stairs which leads to the sleeping room, and she knows where to find the key."
They went into the garden, and when the lights in the palace were put out one after the other, the crow led Gerda to a backdoor.
Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing! It seemed as if she were going to do something wrong, but she only wanted to know if it were little Kay. Yes, it must be he! She remembered so well his clever eyes, his curly hair. She could see him smiling as he did when they were at home under the rose trees! He would be so pleased to see her, and to hear how they all were at home.
Now they were on the stairs; a little lamp was burning, and on the landing stood the tame crow. She put her head on one side and looked at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her.
"My betrothed has told me many nice things about you, my dear young lady," she said. "Will you take the lamp while I go in front? We'll go this way so as to meet no one."
Through beautiful rooms they came to the sleeping room. In the middle of it, hung on a thick rod of gold, were two beds - shaped like lilies; one all white, in which lay the princess, and the other red, in which Gerda hoped to find Kay. She pushed aside the curtain, and saw a brown neck. Oh, it was Kay! She called his name out loud, holding the lamp towards him.
He woke up, turned his head and... It was not Kay!
It was only his neck that was like Kay’s, but he was young and handsome.
They went into the garden, and when the lights in the palace were put out one after the other, the crow led Gerda to a backdoor.
Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing! It seemed as if she were going to do something wrong, but she only wanted to know if it were little Kay. Yes, it must be he! She remembered so well his clever eyes, his curly hair. She could see him smiling as he did when they were at home under the rose trees! He would be so pleased to see her, and to hear how they all were at home.
Now they were on the stairs; a little lamp was burning, and on the landing stood the tame crow. She put her head on one side and looked at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her.
"My betrothed has told me many nice things about you, my dear young lady," she said. "Will you take the lamp while I go in front? We'll go this way so as to meet no one."
Through beautiful rooms they came to the sleeping room. In the middle of it, hung on a thick rod of gold, were two beds - shaped like lilies; one all white, in which lay the princess, and the other red, in which Gerda hoped to find Kay. She pushed aside the curtain, and saw a brown neck. Oh, it was Kay! She called his name out loud, holding the lamp towards him.
He woke up, turned his head and... It was not Kay!
It was only his neck that was like Kay’s, but he was young and handsome.
The princess sat up in her lily bed and asked who was there. Then Gerda cried,
and told her story and all that the crows had done.
"You poor child!" Said the prince and princess. They praised the crows, and said that they were not angry with them, but that they must not do it again. Now they should have a reward.
"Would you like to fly away free?" Said the princess. "Or will you have a permanent place as court crows with what you can get in the kitchen?" Both crows bowed and asked for a permanent appointment, for they thought of their old age.
"You poor child!" Said the prince and princess. They praised the crows, and said that they were not angry with them, but that they must not do it again. Now they should have a reward.
"Would you like to fly away free?" Said the princess. "Or will you have a permanent place as court crows with what you can get in the kitchen?" Both crows bowed and asked for a permanent appointment, for they thought of their old age.
They put Gerda to bed, and she folded her hands, thinking as she fell asleep,
"How good people and animals are to me!"
The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and satin. They wanted her to stay on in the palace, but she begged for a little carriage and a horse, and a pair of shoes so that she might go out again into the world to look for Kay.
They gave her a muff as well as some shoes; she was warmly dressed, and when she was ready, there in front of the door stood a coach of pure gold, with a coachman, footmen and postilions with gold crowns on. The prince and princess helped her into the carriage and wished her good luck.
The wild crow who was now married drove with her for the first three miles; the other crow could not come because she had a bad headache.
"Goodbye, goodbye!" Called the prince and princess; and little Gerda cried, and the crow cried.
When he said goodbye, he flew on to a tree and waved with his black wings as long as the carriage, which shone like the sun, was in sight. They came at last to a dark wood, but the coach lit it up like a torch. When the robbers saw it, they rushed out, exclaiming, "Gold! Gold!"
They seized the horses, killed the coachman, footmen and postilions, and dragged Gerda out of the carriage. "She is plump and tender! I will eat her!" Said the old robber-queen, and she drew her long knife, which glittered horribly.
The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and satin. They wanted her to stay on in the palace, but she begged for a little carriage and a horse, and a pair of shoes so that she might go out again into the world to look for Kay.
They gave her a muff as well as some shoes; she was warmly dressed, and when she was ready, there in front of the door stood a coach of pure gold, with a coachman, footmen and postilions with gold crowns on. The prince and princess helped her into the carriage and wished her good luck.
The wild crow who was now married drove with her for the first three miles; the other crow could not come because she had a bad headache.
"Goodbye, goodbye!" Called the prince and princess; and little Gerda cried, and the crow cried.
When he said goodbye, he flew on to a tree and waved with his black wings as long as the carriage, which shone like the sun, was in sight. They came at last to a dark wood, but the coach lit it up like a torch. When the robbers saw it, they rushed out, exclaiming, "Gold! Gold!"
They seized the horses, killed the coachman, footmen and postilions, and dragged Gerda out of the carriage. "She is plump and tender! I will eat her!" Said the old robber-queen, and she drew her long knife, which glittered horribly.
The Snow Queen Part 3
The close of the story is the most magical yet, taking us across the frozen landscapes of Finland and Lapland under the dazzling Northern Lights - to the palace of the Snow Queen.
"You shall not kill her!" Cried her little daughter. "She shall play with me.
She shall give me her muff and her beautiful dress, and she shall sleep in my bed."
The little robber girl was as big as Gerda; but was stronger, broader, with dark hair and black eyes. She threw her arms around Gerda and said, "They shall not kill you, so long as you are not naughty. Aren’t you a princess?"
"No," said Gerda, and she told all that had happened to her, and how dearly she loved little Kay. The robber girl looked at her very seriously, and nodded her head, saying, "They shall not kill you, even if you are naughty, for then I will kill you myself!" She dried Gerda’s eyes, and stuck both her hands in the beautiful warm muff.
The little robber girl took Gerda to a corner of the robbers’ camp where she slept. All around were more than a hundred wood pigeons which seemed to be asleep, but they moved a little when the two girls came up. There was also, near by, a reindeer which the robber girl teased by tickling it with her long sharp knife.
Gerda lay awake for some time. "Coo, coo," said the wood pigeons. "We have seen little Kay. A white bird carried his sledge; he was sitting in the Snow Queen’s carriage which drove over the forest when our little ones were in the nest. She breathed on them, and all except we two died. Coo, coo!"
"What are you saying over there?" Gerda cried. "Where was the Snow Queen going to? Do you know at all?"
"She was probably travelling to Lapland, where there is always ice and snow. Ask the reindeer."
"There is capital ice and snow there!" Said the reindeer. "One can jump about there in the great sparkling valleys. There the Snow Queen has her summer palace, but her best palace is up by the North Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen."
"Oh Kay, my little Kay!" Sobbed Gerda.
"You must lie still," said the little robber girl, "or else I shall stick my knife into you!"
In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said. She nodded. "Do you know where Lapland is?" She asked the reindeer.
"Who should know better than I?" Said the beast, and his eyes sparkled.
The little robber girl was as big as Gerda; but was stronger, broader, with dark hair and black eyes. She threw her arms around Gerda and said, "They shall not kill you, so long as you are not naughty. Aren’t you a princess?"
"No," said Gerda, and she told all that had happened to her, and how dearly she loved little Kay. The robber girl looked at her very seriously, and nodded her head, saying, "They shall not kill you, even if you are naughty, for then I will kill you myself!" She dried Gerda’s eyes, and stuck both her hands in the beautiful warm muff.
The little robber girl took Gerda to a corner of the robbers’ camp where she slept. All around were more than a hundred wood pigeons which seemed to be asleep, but they moved a little when the two girls came up. There was also, near by, a reindeer which the robber girl teased by tickling it with her long sharp knife.
Gerda lay awake for some time. "Coo, coo," said the wood pigeons. "We have seen little Kay. A white bird carried his sledge; he was sitting in the Snow Queen’s carriage which drove over the forest when our little ones were in the nest. She breathed on them, and all except we two died. Coo, coo!"
"What are you saying over there?" Gerda cried. "Where was the Snow Queen going to? Do you know at all?"
"She was probably travelling to Lapland, where there is always ice and snow. Ask the reindeer."
"There is capital ice and snow there!" Said the reindeer. "One can jump about there in the great sparkling valleys. There the Snow Queen has her summer palace, but her best palace is up by the North Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen."
"Oh Kay, my little Kay!" Sobbed Gerda.
"You must lie still," said the little robber girl, "or else I shall stick my knife into you!"
In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said. She nodded. "Do you know where Lapland is?" She asked the reindeer.
"Who should know better than I?" Said the beast, and his eyes sparkled.
"I was born and bred there on the snow fields."
"Listen!" Said the robber girl to Gerda. "You see that all the robbers have gone; only my mother is left, and she will fall asleep in the afternoon – then I will do something for you!"
When her mother had fallen asleep, the robber girl went up to the reindeer and said, "I am going to set you free so that you can run to Lapland. But you must go quickly and carry this little girl to the Snow Queen’s palace, where her playfellow is. You must have heard all that she told about it, for she spoke loud enough!"
The reindeer sprang high for joy. The robber girl lifted little Gerda up, and had the foresight to tie her on firmly, and even gave her a little pillow for a saddle. "You must have your fur boots," she said, "for it will be cold; but I shall keep your muff, for it is so cosy! But, so that you may not freeze, here are my mother’s great fur gloves; they will come up to your elbows. Creep into them!"
Gerda cried for joy.
"Don’t make such faces!" Said the little robber girl. "You must look very happy. Here are two loaves and a sausage; now you won’t be hungry!"
They were tied to the reindeer, the little robber girl opened the door, made all the big dogs come away, cut through the halter with her sharp knife, and said to the reindeer, "Run now! But take great care of the little girl."
Gerda stretched out her hands with the large fur gloves towards the little robber girl and said, "Goodbye!"
Then the reindeer flew over the ground, through the great forest, as fast as he could. The wolves howled, the ravens screamed, the sky seemed on fire.
"Those are my dear old northern lights," said the reindeer, "see how they shine!" And then he ran faster still, day and night.
The loaves were eaten, and the sausage also, and then they came to Lapland. They stopped by a wretched little house; the roof almost touched the ground, and the door was so low that you had to creep in and out.
There was no one in the house except an old Lapland woman who was cooking fish over an oil lamp. The reindeer told Gerda’s whole history, but first he told his own, for that seemed to him much more important, and Gerda was so cold that she could not speak.
"Ah, you poor creatures!" Said the Lapland woman. "You have still further to go! You must go over a hundred miles into Finland, for there the Snow Queen lives, and every night she burns Bengal lights. I will write some words on a dried stockfish, for I have no paper, and you must give it to the Finland woman - for she can give you better advice than I can."
When Gerda was warmed and had something to eat and drink, the Lapland woman wrote on a dried stockfish, and begged Gerda to take care of it, tied Gerda securely on the reindeer’s back, and away they went again. The whole night was ablaze with Northern Lights, and then they came to Finland and knocked at the Finland woman’s chimney - for door she had none.
Inside it was so hot that the Finland woman wore very few clothes; she loosened Gerda’s clothes and drew off her fur gloves and boots. She laid a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and then read what was written on the stockfish. She read it over three times until she knew it by heart, and then put the fish in the saucepan, for she never wasted anything.
Then the reindeer told his story, and afterwards little Gerda’s, and the Finland woman blinked her eyes but said nothing.
"You are very clever," said the reindeer. "I know. Cannot you give the little girl a drink so that she may have the strength of twelve men and overcome the Snow Queen?"
"The strength of twelve men!" Said the Finland woman. "That would not help much. Little Kay is with the Snow Queen and he likes everything there very much and thinks it the best place in the world. But that is because he has a splinter of glass in his heart and a bit in his eye. If these do not come out, he will never be free, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him."
"But cannot you give little Gerda something so that she can have power over her?"
"I can give her no greater power than she has already; don’t you see how great it is? Don’t you see how men and beasts must help her when she wanders into the wide world with her bare feet? She is powerful already, because she is a dear little innocent child. If she cannot by herself conquer the Snow Queen and take away the glass splinters from little Kay, we cannot help her! The Snow Queen’s garden begins two miles from here. You can carry the little maiden so far; put her down by the large bush with red berries growing in the snow. Then you must come back here as fast as you can."
Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the reindeer and away he sped.
"Oh, I have left my gloves and boots behind!" Gerda cried. She missed them in the piercing cold, but the reindeer did not dare to stop. On he ran until he came to the bush with red berries. There he set Gerda down and kissed her mouth, and great big tears ran down his cheeks, and then he ran back. There stood poor Gerda, without shoes or gloves in the middle of the bitter cold of Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could. A regiment of gigantic snowflakes came against her, but they melted when they touched her, and she went on with fresh courage.
Now we must see what Kay was doing. He was not thinking of Gerda, and never dreamed that she was standing outside the palace.
The walls of the palace were built of driven snow, and the doors and windows of piercing winds. There were more than a hundred halls in it, all of frozen snow.
"Listen!" Said the robber girl to Gerda. "You see that all the robbers have gone; only my mother is left, and she will fall asleep in the afternoon – then I will do something for you!"
When her mother had fallen asleep, the robber girl went up to the reindeer and said, "I am going to set you free so that you can run to Lapland. But you must go quickly and carry this little girl to the Snow Queen’s palace, where her playfellow is. You must have heard all that she told about it, for she spoke loud enough!"
The reindeer sprang high for joy. The robber girl lifted little Gerda up, and had the foresight to tie her on firmly, and even gave her a little pillow for a saddle. "You must have your fur boots," she said, "for it will be cold; but I shall keep your muff, for it is so cosy! But, so that you may not freeze, here are my mother’s great fur gloves; they will come up to your elbows. Creep into them!"
Gerda cried for joy.
"Don’t make such faces!" Said the little robber girl. "You must look very happy. Here are two loaves and a sausage; now you won’t be hungry!"
They were tied to the reindeer, the little robber girl opened the door, made all the big dogs come away, cut through the halter with her sharp knife, and said to the reindeer, "Run now! But take great care of the little girl."
Gerda stretched out her hands with the large fur gloves towards the little robber girl and said, "Goodbye!"
Then the reindeer flew over the ground, through the great forest, as fast as he could. The wolves howled, the ravens screamed, the sky seemed on fire.
"Those are my dear old northern lights," said the reindeer, "see how they shine!" And then he ran faster still, day and night.
The loaves were eaten, and the sausage also, and then they came to Lapland. They stopped by a wretched little house; the roof almost touched the ground, and the door was so low that you had to creep in and out.
There was no one in the house except an old Lapland woman who was cooking fish over an oil lamp. The reindeer told Gerda’s whole history, but first he told his own, for that seemed to him much more important, and Gerda was so cold that she could not speak.
"Ah, you poor creatures!" Said the Lapland woman. "You have still further to go! You must go over a hundred miles into Finland, for there the Snow Queen lives, and every night she burns Bengal lights. I will write some words on a dried stockfish, for I have no paper, and you must give it to the Finland woman - for she can give you better advice than I can."
When Gerda was warmed and had something to eat and drink, the Lapland woman wrote on a dried stockfish, and begged Gerda to take care of it, tied Gerda securely on the reindeer’s back, and away they went again. The whole night was ablaze with Northern Lights, and then they came to Finland and knocked at the Finland woman’s chimney - for door she had none.
Inside it was so hot that the Finland woman wore very few clothes; she loosened Gerda’s clothes and drew off her fur gloves and boots. She laid a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and then read what was written on the stockfish. She read it over three times until she knew it by heart, and then put the fish in the saucepan, for she never wasted anything.
Then the reindeer told his story, and afterwards little Gerda’s, and the Finland woman blinked her eyes but said nothing.
"You are very clever," said the reindeer. "I know. Cannot you give the little girl a drink so that she may have the strength of twelve men and overcome the Snow Queen?"
"The strength of twelve men!" Said the Finland woman. "That would not help much. Little Kay is with the Snow Queen and he likes everything there very much and thinks it the best place in the world. But that is because he has a splinter of glass in his heart and a bit in his eye. If these do not come out, he will never be free, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him."
"But cannot you give little Gerda something so that she can have power over her?"
"I can give her no greater power than she has already; don’t you see how great it is? Don’t you see how men and beasts must help her when she wanders into the wide world with her bare feet? She is powerful already, because she is a dear little innocent child. If she cannot by herself conquer the Snow Queen and take away the glass splinters from little Kay, we cannot help her! The Snow Queen’s garden begins two miles from here. You can carry the little maiden so far; put her down by the large bush with red berries growing in the snow. Then you must come back here as fast as you can."
Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the reindeer and away he sped.
"Oh, I have left my gloves and boots behind!" Gerda cried. She missed them in the piercing cold, but the reindeer did not dare to stop. On he ran until he came to the bush with red berries. There he set Gerda down and kissed her mouth, and great big tears ran down his cheeks, and then he ran back. There stood poor Gerda, without shoes or gloves in the middle of the bitter cold of Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could. A regiment of gigantic snowflakes came against her, but they melted when they touched her, and she went on with fresh courage.
Now we must see what Kay was doing. He was not thinking of Gerda, and never dreamed that she was standing outside the palace.
The walls of the palace were built of driven snow, and the doors and windows of piercing winds. There were more than a hundred halls in it, all of frozen snow.
The largest was several miles long; the bright Northern Lights lit them up, and very large and empty and cold and glittering they were! In the middle of the great hall was a frozen lake which had cracked in a thousand pieces; each piece was exactly like the other. Here the Snow Queen used to sit when she was at home.
Little Kay was almost blue and black with cold, but he did not feel it, for she had kissed away his feelings and his heart was a lump of ice.
He was pulling about some sharp, flat pieces of ice, and trying to fit one into the other. He thought each was most beautiful, but that was because of the splinter of glass in his eye. He fitted them into a great many shapes, but he wanted to make them spell the word "Love." The Snow Queen had said, "If you can spell out that word you shalt be your own master. I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates." But he could not do it.
"Now I must fly to warmer countries," said the Snow Queen. "I must go and powder my black kettles!" (This was what she called Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius.)
Little Kay was almost blue and black with cold, but he did not feel it, for she had kissed away his feelings and his heart was a lump of ice.
He was pulling about some sharp, flat pieces of ice, and trying to fit one into the other. He thought each was most beautiful, but that was because of the splinter of glass in his eye. He fitted them into a great many shapes, but he wanted to make them spell the word "Love." The Snow Queen had said, "If you can spell out that word you shalt be your own master. I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates." But he could not do it.
"Now I must fly to warmer countries," said the Snow Queen. "I must go and powder my black kettles!" (This was what she called Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius.)
"It does the lemons and grapes good."
Off she flew, and Kay sat alone in the great hall trying to do his puzzle.
Off she flew, and Kay sat alone in the great hall trying to do his puzzle.
He sat so still that you would have thought he was frozen.
Then it happened that little Gerda stepped into the hall. The biting cold winds became quiet as if they had fallen asleep when she appeared in the great, empty, freezing hall.
She caught sight of Kay; she recognised him, and ran and put her arms round his neck, crying, "Kay! Dear little Kay! I have found you at last!"
But he sat quite still and cold. Then Gerda wept hot tears which fell on his neck which thawed his heart and swept away the bit of the looking glass. He looked at her and then he burst into tears. He cried so much that the glass splinter swam out of his eye; then he knew her, and cried out, "Gerda! Dear little Gerda! Where have you been so long? Where have I been?" And he looked round him.
"How cold it is here! How wide and empty!" He threw himself on Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was such a happy time that the pieces of ice even danced round them for joy, and when they were tired and lay down again they formed themselves into the letters that the Snow Queen had said he must spell in order to become his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates.
Gerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy; she kissed his eyes and they sparkled like hers, she kissed his hands and feet and he became warm and glowing.
Then it happened that little Gerda stepped into the hall. The biting cold winds became quiet as if they had fallen asleep when she appeared in the great, empty, freezing hall.
She caught sight of Kay; she recognised him, and ran and put her arms round his neck, crying, "Kay! Dear little Kay! I have found you at last!"
But he sat quite still and cold. Then Gerda wept hot tears which fell on his neck which thawed his heart and swept away the bit of the looking glass. He looked at her and then he burst into tears. He cried so much that the glass splinter swam out of his eye; then he knew her, and cried out, "Gerda! Dear little Gerda! Where have you been so long? Where have I been?" And he looked round him.
"How cold it is here! How wide and empty!" He threw himself on Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was such a happy time that the pieces of ice even danced round them for joy, and when they were tired and lay down again they formed themselves into the letters that the Snow Queen had said he must spell in order to become his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates.
Gerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy; she kissed his eyes and they sparkled like hers, she kissed his hands and feet and he became warm and glowing.
The Snow Queen might come home now; his release – the word ‘Love’ – stood written in sparkling ice.
They took each other’s hands and wandered out of the great palace; they talked about the grandmother and the roses on the leads, wherever they came the winds hushed and the sun came out. When they reached the bush with red berries there stood the reindeer waiting for them.
He carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, who warmed them in her hot room and gave them advice for their journey home.
Then they went to the Lapland woman, who gave them new clothes and mended their sleigh. The reindeer ran with them until they came to the green fields fresh with the spring green. Here he said goodbye.
They came to the forest, which was bursting into bud, and out of it came a splendid horse which Gerda knew; it was the one which had drawn the gold coach ridden by a young girl with a red cap on and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber girl who was tired of being at home and wanted to go out into the world. She and Gerda knew each other at once.
"You are a nice fellow!" She said to Kay.
They took each other’s hands and wandered out of the great palace; they talked about the grandmother and the roses on the leads, wherever they came the winds hushed and the sun came out. When they reached the bush with red berries there stood the reindeer waiting for them.
He carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, who warmed them in her hot room and gave them advice for their journey home.
Then they went to the Lapland woman, who gave them new clothes and mended their sleigh. The reindeer ran with them until they came to the green fields fresh with the spring green. Here he said goodbye.
They came to the forest, which was bursting into bud, and out of it came a splendid horse which Gerda knew; it was the one which had drawn the gold coach ridden by a young girl with a red cap on and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber girl who was tired of being at home and wanted to go out into the world. She and Gerda knew each other at once.
"You are a nice fellow!" She said to Kay.
"I should like to know if you deserve to be run all over the world!"
Gerda patted her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess.
Gerda patted her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess.
"They are travelling about," said the robber girl.
"And the crow?" Gerda asked.
"Oh, the crow is dead!" Answered the robber girl. "His tame sweetheart is a widow and hops about with a bit of black crape around her leg. She makes a great fuss, but that’s all nonsense. But tell me what happened to you, and how you caught him."
Kay and Gerda told her all. "Dear, dear!" Said the robber girl, shook both their hands, and promised that if she came to their town she would come and see them. Then she rode on.
Gerda and Kay went home hand in hand. There they found the grandmother and everything just as it had been, but when they went through the doorway they found they were grown up.
There were the roses on the leads; it was summer, warm, glorious summer.
In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recognised; and if anyone had
And now it worked much more evil than before; for some of these pieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they stayed; and then people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that which was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the same power which the whole mirror had possessed.
7. STORY
And "Schnipp-schnapp-schnurre-basselurre," said the robber maiden; and she took the hands of each, and promised that if she should some day pass through the town where they lived, she would come and visit them; and then away she rode. Kay and Gerda took each other's hand: it was lovely spring weather, with abundance of flowers and of verdure. The church-bells rang, and the children recognised the high towers, and the large town; it was that in which they dwelt. They entered and hastened up to their grandmother's room, where everything was standing as formerly.
"And the crow?" Gerda asked.
"Oh, the crow is dead!" Answered the robber girl. "His tame sweetheart is a widow and hops about with a bit of black crape around her leg. She makes a great fuss, but that’s all nonsense. But tell me what happened to you, and how you caught him."
Kay and Gerda told her all. "Dear, dear!" Said the robber girl, shook both their hands, and promised that if she came to their town she would come and see them. Then she rode on.
Gerda and Kay went home hand in hand. There they found the grandmother and everything just as it had been, but when they went through the doorway they found they were grown up.
There were the roses on the leads; it was summer, warm, glorious summer.
1 STORY
Which Treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters
Once upon a time there was a wicked sprite, indeed he was the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humor, for he had made a mirror
with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it was reflected therein, to look poor and mean;but that which was good-for-nothing and looked ugly was shown magnified and increased in ugliness.
In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recognised; and if anyone had
a mole, you might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose and mouth.
"That's glorious fun!" said the sprite. If a good thought passed through a man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery.
"That's glorious fun!" said the sprite. If a good thought passed through a man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery.
All the little sprites who went to his school-for he kept a sprite school-told each other that a miracle had happened; and that now only, as they thought, it would be possible to see how the world really looked.
They ran about with the mirror; and at last there was not a land or a person who was not represented distorted in the mirror.
So then they thought they would fly up to the sky, and have a joke there.
The higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly it grinned: they could hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and nearer to the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands and fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million and more pieces.
And now it worked much more evil than before; for some of these pieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they stayed; and then people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that which was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the same power which the whole mirror had possessed.
Some persons even got a splinter in their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces were so large that they were used for windowpanes, through which one could not see one's friends. Other pieces were put in spectacles; and that was a sad affair when people put on their glasses to see well and rightly. Then the wicked sprite laughed till he almost choked, for all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters still flew about in the air: and now we shall hear what happened next.
2 STORY
2 STORY
A Little Boy and a Little Girl
In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and where, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a flower-pot.
In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and where, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a flower-pot.
They were not brother and sister; but they cared for each other as much as if they were.
Their parents lived exactly opposite. They inhabited two garrets; and where the roof of
the one house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme end of it, there was to each house a small window: one needed only to step over the gutter to get from one window to the other.
The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a rose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers.
The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a rose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers.
The tendrils of the peas hung down over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined round the windows, and then bent towards each other:
it was almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew that they must not creep over them; so they often obtained permission to get out of the windows to each other, and to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they could play delightfully.
In winter there was an end of this pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; but then they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then they had a capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded;
and out of each peeped a gentle friendly eye--it was the little boy and
the little girl who were looking out.
His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to go down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and out-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm.
"It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.
"Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one.
"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers."
"Yes, I have seen it," said both the children; and so they knew that it was true.
"Can the Snow Queen come in?" said the little girl.
"Only let her come in!" said the little boy. "Then I'd put her on the stove, and she'd melt."
And then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.
In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of
"It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.
"Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one.
"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers."
"Yes, I have seen it," said both the children; and so they knew that it was true.
"Can the Snow Queen come in?" said the little girl.
"Only let her come in!" said the little boy. "Then I'd put her on the stove, and she'd melt."
And then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.
In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of
a flower-pot.
The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars.
The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars.
She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars; but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and jumped down from the chair; it seemed to him as if, at the same moment, a large bird flew past the window.
The next day it was a sharp frost--and then the spring came; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on the leads at the top of the house.
That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The little girl had learned
The next day it was a sharp frost--and then the spring came; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on the leads at the top of the house.
That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The little girl had learned
a hymn, in which there was something about roses; and then she thought of her own flowers; and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then sang it with her:
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there
the children to greet."
And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels there. What lovely summer-days those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near the fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never finish blossoming!
Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts and of birds; and it was then--the clock in the church-tower was just striking five--that Kay said, "Oh! I feel such a sharp pain in my heart; and now something has got into my eye!"
The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eyes; now there was nothing to be seen.
"I think it is out now," said he; but it was not. It was just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye; and poor Kay had got another piece right in his heart.
And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels there. What lovely summer-days those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near the fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never finish blossoming!
Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts and of birds; and it was then--the clock in the church-tower was just striking five--that Kay said, "Oh! I feel such a sharp pain in my heart; and now something has got into my eye!"
The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eyes; now there was nothing to be seen.
"I think it is out now," said he; but it was not. It was just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye; and poor Kay had got another piece right in his heart.
It will soon become like ice. It did not hurt any longer, but there it was.
"What are you crying for?" asked he. "You look so ugly! There's nothing the matter with me. Ah," said he at once, "that rose is cankered! And look, this one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly! They are just like the box they are planted in!" And then he gave
"What are you crying for?" asked he. "You look so ugly! There's nothing the matter with me. Ah," said he at once, "that rose is cankered! And look, this one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly! They are just like the box they are planted in!" And then he gave
the box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up.
"What are you doing?" cried the little girl; and as he perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda.
Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, "What horrid beasts have you there?" And if his grandmother told them stories, he always interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he copied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street. Everything that was peculiar and displeasing in them--that Kay knew how to imitate: and at such times all the people said,
"What are you doing?" cried the little girl; and as he perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda.
Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, "What horrid beasts have you there?" And if his grandmother told them stories, he always interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he copied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street. Everything that was peculiar and displeasing in them--that Kay knew how to imitate: and at such times all the people said,
"The boy is certainly very clever!" But it was the glass he had got in his eye; the glass that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease even little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him.
His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they were so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread the skirts
His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they were so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread the skirts
of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell.
"Look through this glass, Gerda," said he. And every flake seemed larger, and appeared like
"Look through this glass, Gerda," said he. And every flake seemed larger, and appeared like
a magnificent flower, or beautiful star; it was splendid to look at!
"Look, how clever!" said Kay. "That's much more interesting than real flowers! They are as exact as possible; there is not a fault in them, if they did not melt!"
It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on, and his little sledge
"Look, how clever!" said Kay. "That's much more interesting than real flowers! They are as exact as possible; there is not a fault in them, if they did not melt!"
It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on, and his little sledge
at his back, and bawled right into Gerda's ears, "I have permission to go out into the square where the others are playing"; and off he was in a moment.
There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the very height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove with it.
There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the very height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove with it.
On they went quicker and quicker into the next street; and the person who drove turned round to Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew each other. Every time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to him, and then Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside the gates of the town.
Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the little boy could not see an arm's length before him, but still on he went: when suddenly he let go the string he held in his hand in order to get loose from the sledge, but it was of no use; still the little vehicle rushed on with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud as he could, but no one heard him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried to repeat the Lord's Prayer; but all he could do, he was only able to remember the multiplication table.
The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.
"We have travelled fast," said she; "but it is freezingly cold. Come under my bearskin." And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath.
"Are you still cold?" asked she; and then she kissed his forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to die--but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was around him.
"My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!" It was the first thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home.
"Now you will have no more kisses," said she, "or else I should kiss you to death!"
Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer appeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and told her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions, even; that he knew the number of square miles there were in the different countries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while he spoke.
The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.
"We have travelled fast," said she; "but it is freezingly cold. Come under my bearskin." And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath.
"Are you still cold?" asked she; and then she kissed his forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to die--but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was around him.
"My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!" It was the first thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home.
"Now you will have no more kisses," said she, "or else I should kiss you to death!"
Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer appeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and told her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions, even; that he knew the number of square miles there were in the different countries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while he spoke.
It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough, and he looked upwards in the large huge empty space above him, and on she flew with him; flew high over the black clouds, while the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew over woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them the chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long long winter's night; while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.
3 STORY
3 STORY
Of the Flower-Garden At the Old Woman's Who Understood Witchcraft
But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he be? Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and bitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long and dismal winter evenings!
At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.
"Kay is dead and gone!" said little Gerda.
"That I don't believe," said the Sunshine.
"Kay is dead and gone!" said she to the Swallows.
"That I don't believe," said they: and at last little Gerda did not think so any longer either.
"I'll put on my red shoes," said she, one morning;
But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he be? Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and bitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long and dismal winter evenings!
At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.
"Kay is dead and gone!" said little Gerda.
"That I don't believe," said the Sunshine.
"Kay is dead and gone!" said she to the Swallows.
"That I don't believe," said they: and at last little Gerda did not think so any longer either.
"I'll put on my red shoes," said she, one morning;
"Kay has never seen them, and then
I'll go down to the river and ask there."
It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother,
It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother,
who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the river.
"Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow?
"Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow?
I will make you a present of my red shoes,
if you will give him back to me."
And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner; then she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed, and threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream would not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not got little Kay; but Gerda thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes.
And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner; then she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed, and threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream would not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not got little Kay; but Gerda thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes.
But the boat was not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it drift from the shore. She observed this, and hastened to get back; but before she could do so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding quickly onward.
Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew along the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, "Here we are! Here we are!" The boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not reach them, because the boat went much faster than they did.
The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.
"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay," said she; and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched, and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past.
Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of course, did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land.
Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splendid flowers.
"Poor little child!" said the old woman. "How did you get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the wide world!" And then the old woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.
And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid of the strange old woman.
"But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," said she.
And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said,
Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew along the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, "Here we are! Here we are!" The boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not reach them, because the boat went much faster than they did.
The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.
"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay," said she; and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched, and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past.
Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of course, did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land.
Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splendid flowers.
"Poor little child!" said the old woman. "How did you get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the wide world!" And then the old woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.
And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid of the strange old woman.
"But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," said she.
And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said,
"A-hem! a-hem!" and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if she had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed there, but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down, but taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than any in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the door.
The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the old woman combed her hair with
The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the old woman combed her hair with
a golden comb, and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which was so round and so like a rose.
"I have often longed for such a dear little girl," said the old woman. "Now you shall see how well we agree together"; and while she combed little Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she only practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out in the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes, which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember little Kay, and run away from her.
She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every season, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind the tall cherry-tree; she then had
"I have often longed for such a dear little girl," said the old woman. "Now you shall see how well we agree together"; and while she combed little Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she only practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out in the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes, which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember little Kay, and run away from her.
She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every season, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind the tall cherry-tree; she then had
a pretty bed, with a red silken coverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep,
and had as pleasant dreams as ever a queen on her wedding-day.
The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerda knew every flower; and, numerous as they were, it still seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she did not know which. One day while she was looking at the hat of the old woman painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be
The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerda knew every flower; and, numerous as they were, it still seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she did not know which. One day while she was looking at the hat of the old woman painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be
a rose.
The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made the others vanish in the earth. But so it is when one's thoughts are not collected. "What!" said Gerda. "Are there no roses here?" and she ran about amongst the flowerbeds, and looked, and looked, but there was not one to be found.
She then sat down and wept; but her hot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk; and when her warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly
as fresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her own dear roses at home, and with them of little Kay.
"Oh, how long I have stayed!" said the little girl. "I intended to look for Kay!
"Oh, how long I have stayed!" said the little girl. "I intended to look for Kay!
Don't you know where he is?" she asked of the roses. "Do you think he is dead and gone?"
"Dead he certainly is not," said the Roses. "We have been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay was not there."
"Many thanks!" said little Gerda; and she went to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, "Don't you know where little Kay is?"
But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its own fairy tale or its own story: and they all told her very many things, but not one knew anything of Kay.
Well, what did the Tiger-Lily say?
"Hearest thou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only two tones. Always bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the call of the priests! The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile; the flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding circle; on him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames--on him, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart more than the flames which soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the heart's flame die in the flame of the funeral pile?"
"I don't understand that at all," said little Gerda.
"That is my story," said the Lily.
What did the Convolvulus say?
"Projecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an old feudal castle.
"Dead he certainly is not," said the Roses. "We have been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay was not there."
"Many thanks!" said little Gerda; and she went to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, "Don't you know where little Kay is?"
But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its own fairy tale or its own story: and they all told her very many things, but not one knew anything of Kay.
Well, what did the Tiger-Lily say?
"Hearest thou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only two tones. Always bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the call of the priests! The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile; the flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding circle; on him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames--on him, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart more than the flames which soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the heart's flame die in the flame of the funeral pile?"
"I don't understand that at all," said little Gerda.
"That is my story," said the Lily.
What did the Convolvulus say?
"Projecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an old feudal castle.
Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated walls, and around the altar, where a lovely maiden is standing: she bends over the railing and looks out upon the rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she; no appleblossom carried away by the wind is more buoyant! How her silken robe is rustling!
"'Is he not yet come?'"
"Is it Kay that you mean?" asked little Gerda.
"I am speaking about my story--about my dream," answered the Convolvulus.
What did the Snowdrops say?
"Between the trees a long board is hanging--it is a swing. Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards; their frocks are as white as snow, and long green silk ribands flutter from their bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing; he twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay-pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles.
"'Is he not yet come?'"
"Is it Kay that you mean?" asked little Gerda.
"I am speaking about my story--about my dream," answered the Convolvulus.
What did the Snowdrops say?
"Between the trees a long board is hanging--it is a swing. Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards; their frocks are as white as snow, and long green silk ribands flutter from their bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing; he twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay-pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles.
The swing moves, and the bubbles float in charming changing colors: the last is still hanging to the end of the pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The little black dog, as light as a soap-bubble, jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the swing. It moves, the dog falls down, barks, and is angry. They tease him; the bubble bursts! A swing, a bursting bubble--such is my song!"
"What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay."What do the Hyacinths say?
"There were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent, and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrance was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood; the fragrance grew stronger--three coffins, and in them three lovely maidens, glided out of the forest and across the lake:
"What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay."What do the Hyacinths say?
"There were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent, and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrance was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood; the fragrance grew stronger--three coffins, and in them three lovely maidens, glided out of the forest and across the lake:
the shining glow-worms flew around like little floating lights. Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The odour of the flowers says they are corpses; the evening bell tolls for the dead!"
"You make me quite sad," said little Gerda. "I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been in the earth, and they say no."
"Ding, dong!" sounded the Hyacinth bells. "We do not toll for little Kay; we do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we have."
And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth from among the shining green leaves.
"You are a little bright sun!" said Gerda. "Tell me if you know where I can find my playfellow."
And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What song could the Ranunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay either.
"In a small court the bright sun was shining in the first days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun-rays. An old grandmother was sitting in the air; her grand-daughter, the poor and lovely servant just come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother. There was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed kiss. There, that is my little story," said the Ranunculus.
"My poor old grandmother!" sighed Gerda. "Yes, she is longing for me, no doubt: she is sorrowing for me, as she did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers; they only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me nothing." And she tucked up her frock, to enable her to run quicker; but the Narcissus gave her a knock on the leg, just as she was going to jump over it. So she stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and asked, "You perhaps know something?" and she bent down to the Narcissus. And what did it say?
"I can see myself--I can see myself! Oh, how odorous I am! Up in the little garret there stands, half-dressed, a little Dancer. She stands now on one leg, now on both; she despises the whole world; yet she lives only in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is the bodice; cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook; it was washed in the teapot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, ties a saffron-colored kerchief round her neck, and then the gown looks whiter.
"You make me quite sad," said little Gerda. "I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been in the earth, and they say no."
"Ding, dong!" sounded the Hyacinth bells. "We do not toll for little Kay; we do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we have."
And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth from among the shining green leaves.
"You are a little bright sun!" said Gerda. "Tell me if you know where I can find my playfellow."
And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What song could the Ranunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay either.
"In a small court the bright sun was shining in the first days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun-rays. An old grandmother was sitting in the air; her grand-daughter, the poor and lovely servant just come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother. There was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed kiss. There, that is my little story," said the Ranunculus.
"My poor old grandmother!" sighed Gerda. "Yes, she is longing for me, no doubt: she is sorrowing for me, as she did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers; they only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me nothing." And she tucked up her frock, to enable her to run quicker; but the Narcissus gave her a knock on the leg, just as she was going to jump over it. So she stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and asked, "You perhaps know something?" and she bent down to the Narcissus. And what did it say?
"I can see myself--I can see myself! Oh, how odorous I am! Up in the little garret there stands, half-dressed, a little Dancer. She stands now on one leg, now on both; she despises the whole world; yet she lives only in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is the bodice; cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook; it was washed in the teapot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, ties a saffron-colored kerchief round her neck, and then the gown looks whiter.
I can see myself--I can see myself!"
"That's nothing to me," said little Gerda. "That does not concern me."
"That's nothing to me," said little Gerda. "That does not concern me."
And then off she ran to the further end of the garden.
The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it was loosened, and the gate opened; and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wide world. She looked round her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she could run no longer; she sat down on a large stone, and when she looked about her, she saw that the summer had passed; it was late in the autumn, but that one could not remark in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year round.
"Dear me, how long I have staid!" said Gerda. "Autumn is come.
The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it was loosened, and the gate opened; and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wide world. She looked round her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she could run no longer; she sat down on a large stone, and when she looked about her, she saw that the summer had passed; it was late in the autumn, but that one could not remark in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year round.
"Dear me, how long I have staid!" said Gerda. "Autumn is come.
I must not rest any longer." And she got up to go further.
Oh, how tender and wearied her little feet were! All around it looked so cold and raw: the long willow-leaves were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like water; one leaf fell after the other: the sloes only stood full of fruit, which set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and comfortless it was in the dreary world!
4 STORY
Oh, how tender and wearied her little feet were! All around it looked so cold and raw: the long willow-leaves were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like water; one leaf fell after the other: the sloes only stood full of fruit, which set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and comfortless it was in the dreary world!
4 STORY
The Prince and Princess
Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when, exactly opposite to her, a large Raven came hopping over the white snow. He had long been looking at Gerda and shaking his head; and now he said, "Caw! Caw!" Good day! Good day! He could not say it better; but he felt a sympathy for the little girl, and asked her where she was going all alone. The word "alone" Gerda understood quite well, and felt how much was expressed by it; so she told the Raven her whole history, and asked if he had not seen Kay.
The Raven nodded very gravely, and said, "It may be--it may be!"
"What, do you really think so?" cried the little girl; and she nearly squeezed the Raven to death, so much did she kiss him.
"Gently, gently," said the Raven. "I think I know; I think that it may be little Kay. But now he has forgotten you for the Princess."
"Does he live with a Princess?" asked Gerda.
"Yes--listen," said the Raven; "but it will be difficult for me to speak your language. If you understand the Raven language I can tell you better."
"No, I have not learnt it," said Gerda; "but my grandmother understands it,
Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when, exactly opposite to her, a large Raven came hopping over the white snow. He had long been looking at Gerda and shaking his head; and now he said, "Caw! Caw!" Good day! Good day! He could not say it better; but he felt a sympathy for the little girl, and asked her where she was going all alone. The word "alone" Gerda understood quite well, and felt how much was expressed by it; so she told the Raven her whole history, and asked if he had not seen Kay.
The Raven nodded very gravely, and said, "It may be--it may be!"
"What, do you really think so?" cried the little girl; and she nearly squeezed the Raven to death, so much did she kiss him.
"Gently, gently," said the Raven. "I think I know; I think that it may be little Kay. But now he has forgotten you for the Princess."
"Does he live with a Princess?" asked Gerda.
"Yes--listen," said the Raven; "but it will be difficult for me to speak your language. If you understand the Raven language I can tell you better."
"No, I have not learnt it," said Gerda; "but my grandmother understands it,
and she can speak gibberish too. I wish I had learnt it."
"No matter," said the Raven; "I will tell you as well as I can; however, it will be bad enough." And then he told all he knew.
"In the kingdom where we now are there lives a Princess, who is extraordinarily clever; for she has read all the newspapers in the whole world, and has forgotten them again--so clever is she. She was lately, it is said, sitting on her throne--which is not very amusing after all--when she began humming an old tune, and it was just, 'Oh, why should I not be married?'
"No matter," said the Raven; "I will tell you as well as I can; however, it will be bad enough." And then he told all he knew.
"In the kingdom where we now are there lives a Princess, who is extraordinarily clever; for she has read all the newspapers in the whole world, and has forgotten them again--so clever is she. She was lately, it is said, sitting on her throne--which is not very amusing after all--when she began humming an old tune, and it was just, 'Oh, why should I not be married?'
'That song is not without its meaning,' said she, and so then she was determined to marry; but she would have a husband who knew how to give an answer when he was spoken to--not one who looked only as if he were a great personage, for that is so tiresome. She then had all the ladies of the court drummed together; and when they heard her intention, all were very pleased, and said, 'We are very glad to hear it; it is the very thing we were thinking of.' You may believe every word I say," said the Raven; "for I have a tame sweetheart that hops about in
the palace quite free, and it was she who told me all this.
"The newspapers appeared forthwith with a border of hearts and the initials of the Princess; and therein you might read that every good-looking young man was at liberty to come to the palace and speak to the Princess; and he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at home there, that one the Princess would choose for her husband.
"Yes, Yes," said the Raven, "you may believe it; it is as true as I am sitting here. People came in crowds; there was a crush and a hurry, but no one was successful either on the first or second day. They could all talk well enough when they were out in the street; but as soon as they came inside the palace gates, and saw the guard richly dressed in silver, and the lackeys in gold on the staircase, and the large illuminated saloons, then they were abashed; and when they stood before the throne on which the Princess was sitting, all they could do was to repeat the last word they had uttered, and to hear it again did not interest her very much.
"The newspapers appeared forthwith with a border of hearts and the initials of the Princess; and therein you might read that every good-looking young man was at liberty to come to the palace and speak to the Princess; and he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at home there, that one the Princess would choose for her husband.
"Yes, Yes," said the Raven, "you may believe it; it is as true as I am sitting here. People came in crowds; there was a crush and a hurry, but no one was successful either on the first or second day. They could all talk well enough when they were out in the street; but as soon as they came inside the palace gates, and saw the guard richly dressed in silver, and the lackeys in gold on the staircase, and the large illuminated saloons, then they were abashed; and when they stood before the throne on which the Princess was sitting, all they could do was to repeat the last word they had uttered, and to hear it again did not interest her very much.
It was just as if the people within were under a charm, and had fallen into
a trance till they came out again into the street; for then--oh, then--they could chatter enough. There was a whole row of them standing from the town-gates to the palace. I was there myself to look," said the Raven. "They grew hungry and thirsty; but from the palace they got nothing whatever, not even a glass of water. Some of the cleverest, it is true, had taken bread and butter with them: but none shared it with his neighbor, for each thought, 'Let him look hungry, and then
the Princess won't have him.'"
"But Kay--little Kay," said Gerda, "when did he come? Was he among the number?"
"Patience, patience; we are just come to him. It was on the third day when a little personage without horse or equipage, came marching right boldly up to the palace; his eyes shone like yours, he had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very shabby."
"That was Kay," cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. "Oh, now I've found him!" and she clapped her hands for joy.
"He had a little knapsack at his back," said the Raven.
"No, that was certainly his sledge," said Gerda; "for when he went away he took his sledge with him."
"That may be," said the Raven; "I did not examine him so minutely; but I know from my tame sweetheart, that when he came into the court-yard of the palace, and saw the body-guard in silver, the lackeys on the staircase, he was not the least abashed; he nodded, and said to them, 'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs; for my part, I shall go in.' The saloons were gleaming with lustres--privy councillors and excellencies were walking about barefooted, and wore gold keys; it was enough to make any one feel uncomfortable. His boots creaked, too, so loudly, but still he was not at all afraid."
"That's Kay for certain," said Gerda. "I know he had on new boots;
"But Kay--little Kay," said Gerda, "when did he come? Was he among the number?"
"Patience, patience; we are just come to him. It was on the third day when a little personage without horse or equipage, came marching right boldly up to the palace; his eyes shone like yours, he had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very shabby."
"That was Kay," cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. "Oh, now I've found him!" and she clapped her hands for joy.
"He had a little knapsack at his back," said the Raven.
"No, that was certainly his sledge," said Gerda; "for when he went away he took his sledge with him."
"That may be," said the Raven; "I did not examine him so minutely; but I know from my tame sweetheart, that when he came into the court-yard of the palace, and saw the body-guard in silver, the lackeys on the staircase, he was not the least abashed; he nodded, and said to them, 'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs; for my part, I shall go in.' The saloons were gleaming with lustres--privy councillors and excellencies were walking about barefooted, and wore gold keys; it was enough to make any one feel uncomfortable. His boots creaked, too, so loudly, but still he was not at all afraid."
"That's Kay for certain," said Gerda. "I know he had on new boots;
I have heard them creaking in grandmama's room."
"Yes, they creaked," said the Raven. "And on he went boldly up to the Princess, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning-wheel. All the ladies of the court, with their attendants and attendants' attendants, and all the cavaliers, with their gentlemen and gentlemen's gentlemen, stood round; and the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. It was hardly possible to look at the gentleman's gentleman, so very haughtily did he stand in the doorway."
"It must have been terrible," said little Gerda. "And did Kay get the Princess?"
"Were I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess myself, although I am promised. It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk Raven language;
"Yes, they creaked," said the Raven. "And on he went boldly up to the Princess, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning-wheel. All the ladies of the court, with their attendants and attendants' attendants, and all the cavaliers, with their gentlemen and gentlemen's gentlemen, stood round; and the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. It was hardly possible to look at the gentleman's gentleman, so very haughtily did he stand in the doorway."
"It must have been terrible," said little Gerda. "And did Kay get the Princess?"
"Were I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess myself, although I am promised. It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk Raven language;
this I learned from my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely behaved;
he had not come to woo the Princess, but only to hear her wisdom.
She pleased him, and he pleased her."
"Yes, yes; for certain that was Kay," said Gerda. "He was so clever; he could reckon fractions in his head. Oh, won't you take me to the palace?"
"That is very easily said," answered the Raven. "But how are we to manage it?
"Yes, yes; for certain that was Kay," said Gerda. "He was so clever; he could reckon fractions in his head. Oh, won't you take me to the palace?"
"That is very easily said," answered the Raven. "But how are we to manage it?
I'll speak to my tame sweetheart about it: she must advise us; for so much
I must tell you, such a little girl as you are will never get permission to enter."
"Oh, yes I shall," said Gerda; "when Kay hears that I am here, he will come out directly to fetch me."
"Wait for me here on these steps," said the Raven. He moved his head backwards and forwards and flew away.
The evening was closing in when the Raven returned. "Caw--caw!" said he.
"Oh, yes I shall," said Gerda; "when Kay hears that I am here, he will come out directly to fetch me."
"Wait for me here on these steps," said the Raven. He moved his head backwards and forwards and flew away.
The evening was closing in when the Raven returned. "Caw--caw!" said he.
"She sends you her compliments; and here is a roll for you. She took it out of the kitchen, where there is bread enough. You are hungry, no doubt. It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for you are barefooted: the guards in silver, and the lackeys in gold, would not allow it; but do not cry, you shall come in still. My sweetheart knows a little back stair that leads to the bedchamber, and she knows where she can get the key of it."
And they went into the garden in the large avenue, where one leaf was falling after the other; and when the lights in the palace had all gradually disappeared, the Raven led little Gerda to the back door, which stood half open.
Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with anxiety and longing! It was just as if she had been about to do something wrong; and yet she only wanted to know if little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his intelligent eyes, and his long hair, so vividly, she could quite see him as he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home. "He will, no doubt, be glad to see you--to hear what a long way you have come for his sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back."
Oh, what a fright and a joy it was!
They were now on the stairs. A single lamp was burning there; and on the floor stood the tame Raven, turning her head on every side and looking at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do.
"My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady," said the tame Raven. "Your tale is very affecting. If you will take the lamp,
And they went into the garden in the large avenue, where one leaf was falling after the other; and when the lights in the palace had all gradually disappeared, the Raven led little Gerda to the back door, which stood half open.
Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with anxiety and longing! It was just as if she had been about to do something wrong; and yet she only wanted to know if little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his intelligent eyes, and his long hair, so vividly, she could quite see him as he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home. "He will, no doubt, be glad to see you--to hear what a long way you have come for his sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back."
Oh, what a fright and a joy it was!
They were now on the stairs. A single lamp was burning there; and on the floor stood the tame Raven, turning her head on every side and looking at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do.
"My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady," said the tame Raven. "Your tale is very affecting. If you will take the lamp,
I will go before. We will go straight on, for we shall meet no one."
"I think there is somebody just behind us," said Gerda; and something rushed past: it was like shadowy figures on the wall; horses with flowing manes and thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback.
"They are only dreams," said the Raven. "They come to fetch the thoughts of the high personages to the chase; 'tis well, for now you can observe them in bed all the better. But let me find, when you enjoy honor and distinction, that you possess a grateful heart."
"Tut! That's not worth talking about," said the Raven of the woods.
They now entered the first saloon, which was of rose-colored satin, with artificial flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past, but they hastened by so quickly that Gerda could not see the high personages. One hall was more magnificent than the other; one might indeed well be abashed; and at last they came into the bedchamber.
"I think there is somebody just behind us," said Gerda; and something rushed past: it was like shadowy figures on the wall; horses with flowing manes and thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback.
"They are only dreams," said the Raven. "They come to fetch the thoughts of the high personages to the chase; 'tis well, for now you can observe them in bed all the better. But let me find, when you enjoy honor and distinction, that you possess a grateful heart."
"Tut! That's not worth talking about," said the Raven of the woods.
They now entered the first saloon, which was of rose-colored satin, with artificial flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past, but they hastened by so quickly that Gerda could not see the high personages. One hall was more magnificent than the other; one might indeed well be abashed; and at last they came into the bedchamber.
The ceiling of the room resembled a large palm-tree with leaves of glass, of costly glass; and in the middle, from a thick golden stem, hung two beds, each of which resembled a lily. One was white, and in this lay the Princess; the other was red, and it was here that Gerda was to look for little Kay. She bent back one of the red leaves, and saw a brown neck. Oh! that was Kay! She called him quite loud by name, held the lamp towards him--the dreams rushed back again into the chamber--he awoke, turned his head, and--it was not little Kay!
The Prince was only like him about the neck; but he was young and handsome. And out of the white lily leaves the Princess peeped, too, and asked what was
The Prince was only like him about the neck; but he was young and handsome. And out of the white lily leaves the Princess peeped, too, and asked what was
the matter. Then little Gerda cried, and told her her whole history, and all that the Ravens had done for her.
"Poor little thing!" said the Prince and the Princess. They praised the Ravens very much, and told them they were not at all angry with them, but they were not to do so again. However, they should have a reward. "Will you fly about here at liberty," asked the Princess; "or would you like to have a fixed appointment as court ravens, with all the broken bits from the kitchen?"
And both the Ravens nodded, and begged for a fixed appointment; for they thought of their old age, and said, "It is a good thing to have a provision for our old days."
And the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and more than this he could not do. She folded her little hands and thought, "How good men and animals are!" and she then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the dreams flew in again, and they now looked like the angels; they drew a little sledge, in which little Kay sat and nodded his head; but the whole was only a dream, and therefore it all vanished as soon as she awoke.
The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, and lead a happy life; but she begged to have a little carriage with a horse in front, and for a small pair of shoes; then, she said, she would again go forth in the wide world and look for Kay.
Shoes and a muff were given her; she was, too, dressed very nicely; and when she was about to set off, a new carriage stopped before the door. It was of pure gold, and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone like a star upon it; the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for outriders were there, too, all wore golden crowns. The Prince and the Princess assisted her into the carriage themselves, and wished her all success.
"Poor little thing!" said the Prince and the Princess. They praised the Ravens very much, and told them they were not at all angry with them, but they were not to do so again. However, they should have a reward. "Will you fly about here at liberty," asked the Princess; "or would you like to have a fixed appointment as court ravens, with all the broken bits from the kitchen?"
And both the Ravens nodded, and begged for a fixed appointment; for they thought of their old age, and said, "It is a good thing to have a provision for our old days."
And the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and more than this he could not do. She folded her little hands and thought, "How good men and animals are!" and she then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the dreams flew in again, and they now looked like the angels; they drew a little sledge, in which little Kay sat and nodded his head; but the whole was only a dream, and therefore it all vanished as soon as she awoke.
The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, and lead a happy life; but she begged to have a little carriage with a horse in front, and for a small pair of shoes; then, she said, she would again go forth in the wide world and look for Kay.
Shoes and a muff were given her; she was, too, dressed very nicely; and when she was about to set off, a new carriage stopped before the door. It was of pure gold, and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone like a star upon it; the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for outriders were there, too, all wore golden crowns. The Prince and the Princess assisted her into the carriage themselves, and wished her all success.
The Raven of the woods, who was now married, accompanied her for the first three miles. He sat beside Gerda, for he could not bear riding backwards; the other Raven stood in the doorway, and flapped her wings; she could not accompany Gerda, because she suffered from headache since she had had a fixed appointment and ate so much. The carriage was lined inside with sugar-plums, and in the seats were fruits and gingerbread.
"Farewell! Farewell!" cried Prince and Princess; and Gerda wept, and the Raven wept. Thus passed the first miles; and then the Raven bade her farewell, and this was the most painful separation of all. He flew into a tree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage, that shone from afar like a sunbeam.
5 STORY
"Farewell! Farewell!" cried Prince and Princess; and Gerda wept, and the Raven wept. Thus passed the first miles; and then the Raven bade her farewell, and this was the most painful separation of all. He flew into a tree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage, that shone from afar like a sunbeam.
5 STORY
The Little Robber Maiden
They drove through the dark wood; but the carriage shone like a torch, and it dazzled the eyes of the robbers, so that they could not bear to look at it.
"'Tis gold! 'Tis gold!" they cried; and they rushed forward, seized the horses, knocked down the little postilion, the coachman, and the servants, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.
"How plump, how beautiful she is! She must have been fed on nut-kernels," said the old female robber, who had a long, scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. "She is as good as a fatted lamb! How nice she will be!" And then she drew out a knife, the blade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold.
"Oh!" cried the woman at the same moment. She had been bitten in the ear by her own little daughter, who hung at her back; and who was so wild and unmanageable, that it was quite amusing to see her. "You naughty child!" said the mother: and now she had not time to kill Gerda.
"She shall play with me," said the little robber child. "She shall give me her muff, and her pretty frock; she shall sleep in my bed!" And then she gave her mother another bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with the pain; and the Robbers laughed, and said, "Look, how she is dancing with the little one!"
"I will go into the carriage," said the little robber maiden; and she would have her will, for she was very spoiled and very headstrong. She and Gerda got in; and then away they drove over the stumps of felled trees, deeper and deeper into the woods. The little robber maiden was as tall as Gerda, but stronger, broader-shouldered, and of dark complexion; her eyes were quite black; they looked almost melancholy. She embraced little Gerda, and said, "They shall not kill you as long as I am not displeased with you. You are, doubtless, a Princess?"
"No," said little Gerda; who then related all that had happened to her, and how much she cared about little Kay.
The little robber maiden looked at her with a serious air, nodded her head slightly, and said, "They shall not kill you, even if I am angry with you: then I will do it myself"; and she dried Gerda's eyes, and put both her hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm.
At length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst of the court-yard of a robber's castle. It was full of cracks from top to bottom; and out of the openings magpies and rooks were flying; and the great bull-dogs, each of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden.
In the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a great fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared under the stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an immense caldron soup was boiling; and rabbits and hares were being roasted on
They drove through the dark wood; but the carriage shone like a torch, and it dazzled the eyes of the robbers, so that they could not bear to look at it.
"'Tis gold! 'Tis gold!" they cried; and they rushed forward, seized the horses, knocked down the little postilion, the coachman, and the servants, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.
"How plump, how beautiful she is! She must have been fed on nut-kernels," said the old female robber, who had a long, scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. "She is as good as a fatted lamb! How nice she will be!" And then she drew out a knife, the blade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold.
"Oh!" cried the woman at the same moment. She had been bitten in the ear by her own little daughter, who hung at her back; and who was so wild and unmanageable, that it was quite amusing to see her. "You naughty child!" said the mother: and now she had not time to kill Gerda.
"She shall play with me," said the little robber child. "She shall give me her muff, and her pretty frock; she shall sleep in my bed!" And then she gave her mother another bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with the pain; and the Robbers laughed, and said, "Look, how she is dancing with the little one!"
"I will go into the carriage," said the little robber maiden; and she would have her will, for she was very spoiled and very headstrong. She and Gerda got in; and then away they drove over the stumps of felled trees, deeper and deeper into the woods. The little robber maiden was as tall as Gerda, but stronger, broader-shouldered, and of dark complexion; her eyes were quite black; they looked almost melancholy. She embraced little Gerda, and said, "They shall not kill you as long as I am not displeased with you. You are, doubtless, a Princess?"
"No," said little Gerda; who then related all that had happened to her, and how much she cared about little Kay.
The little robber maiden looked at her with a serious air, nodded her head slightly, and said, "They shall not kill you, even if I am angry with you: then I will do it myself"; and she dried Gerda's eyes, and put both her hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm.
At length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst of the court-yard of a robber's castle. It was full of cracks from top to bottom; and out of the openings magpies and rooks were flying; and the great bull-dogs, each of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden.
In the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a great fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared under the stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an immense caldron soup was boiling; and rabbits and hares were being roasted on
a spit.
"You shall sleep with me to-night, with all my animals," said the little robber maiden. They had something to eat and drink; and then went into a corner, where straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, on laths and perches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seemingly; but yet they moved a little when the robber maiden came. "They are all mine," said she, at the same time seizing one that was next to her by the legs and shaking it so that its wings fluttered. "Kiss it," cried the little girl, and flung the pigeon in Gerda's face.
"You shall sleep with me to-night, with all my animals," said the little robber maiden. They had something to eat and drink; and then went into a corner, where straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, on laths and perches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seemingly; but yet they moved a little when the robber maiden came. "They are all mine," said she, at the same time seizing one that was next to her by the legs and shaking it so that its wings fluttered. "Kiss it," cried the little girl, and flung the pigeon in Gerda's face.
"Up there is the rabble of the wood," continued she, pointing to several laths which were fastened before a hole high up in the wall; "that's the rabble; they would all fly away immediately, if they were not well fastened in. And here is my dear old Bac"; and she laid hold of the horns of a reindeer, that had a bright copper ring round its neck, and was tethered to the spot. "We are obliged to lock this fellow in too, or he would make his escape. Every evening
I tickle his neck with my sharp knife; he is so frightened at it!" and the little girl drew forth a long knife, from a crack in the wall, and let it glide over the Reindeer's neck. The poor animal kicked; the girl laughed, and pulled Gerda into bed with her.
"Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?" asked Gerda; looking at it rather fearfully.
"I always sleep with the knife," said the little robber maiden. "There is no knowing what may happen. But tell me now, once more, all about little Kay; and why you have started off in the wide world alone." And Gerda related all, from the very beginning: the Wood-pigeons cooed above in their cage, and the others slept.
"Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?" asked Gerda; looking at it rather fearfully.
"I always sleep with the knife," said the little robber maiden. "There is no knowing what may happen. But tell me now, once more, all about little Kay; and why you have started off in the wide world alone." And Gerda related all, from the very beginning: the Wood-pigeons cooed above in their cage, and the others slept.
The little robber maiden wound her arm round Gerda's neck, held the knife in the other hand, and snored so loud that everybody could hear her; but Gerda could not close her eyes, for she did not know whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank; and the old female robber jumped about so, that it was quite dreadful for Gerda to see her.
Then the Wood-pigeons said, "Coo! Coo! We have seen little Kay! A white hen carries his sledge; he himself sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, who passed here, down just over the wood, as we lay in our nest. She blew upon us young ones; and all died except we two. Coo! Coo!"
"What is that you say up there?" cried little Gerda.
Then the Wood-pigeons said, "Coo! Coo! We have seen little Kay! A white hen carries his sledge; he himself sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, who passed here, down just over the wood, as we lay in our nest. She blew upon us young ones; and all died except we two. Coo! Coo!"
"What is that you say up there?" cried little Gerda.
"Where did the Snow Queen go to? Do you know anything about it?"
"She is no doubt gone to Lapland; for there is always snow and ice there.
"She is no doubt gone to Lapland; for there is always snow and ice there.
Only ask the Reindeer, who is tethered there."
"Ice and snow is there! There it is, glorious and beautiful!" said the Reindeer.
"Ice and snow is there! There it is, glorious and beautiful!" said the Reindeer.
"One can spring about in the large shining valleys! The Snow Queen has her summer-tent there; but her fixed abode is high up towards the North Pole,
on the Island called Spitzbergen."
"Oh, Kay! Poor little Kay!" sighed Gerda.
"Do you choose to be quiet?" said the robber maiden.
"Oh, Kay! Poor little Kay!" sighed Gerda.
"Do you choose to be quiet?" said the robber maiden.
"If you don't, I shall make you."
In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pigeons had said; and the little maiden looked very serious, but she nodded her head, and said, "That's no matter--that's no matter. Do you know where Lapland lies!" she asked of the Reindeer.
"Who should know better than I?" said the animal; and his eyes rolled in his head. "I was born and bred there--there I leapt about on the fields of snow."
"Listen," said the robber maiden to Gerda. "You see that the men are gone;
In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pigeons had said; and the little maiden looked very serious, but she nodded her head, and said, "That's no matter--that's no matter. Do you know where Lapland lies!" she asked of the Reindeer.
"Who should know better than I?" said the animal; and his eyes rolled in his head. "I was born and bred there--there I leapt about on the fields of snow."
"Listen," said the robber maiden to Gerda. "You see that the men are gone;
but my mother is still here, and will remain. However, towards morning she takes a draught out of the large flask, and then she sleeps a little: then I will do something for you." She now jumped out of bed, flew to her mother; with her arms round her neck, and pulling her by the beard, said, "Good morrow, my own sweet nanny-goat of a mother." And her mother took hold of her nose, and pinched it till it was red and blue; but this was all done out of pure love.
When the mother had taken a sup at her flask, and was having a nap, the little robber maiden went to the Reindeer, and said, "I should very much like to give you still many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are so amusing; however, I will untether you, and help you out, so that you may go back to Lapland. But you must make good use of your legs; and take this little girl for me to the palace of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You have heard,
When the mother had taken a sup at her flask, and was having a nap, the little robber maiden went to the Reindeer, and said, "I should very much like to give you still many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are so amusing; however, I will untether you, and help you out, so that you may go back to Lapland. But you must make good use of your legs; and take this little girl for me to the palace of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You have heard,
I suppose, all she said; for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening."
The Reindeer gave a bound for joy. The robber maiden lifted up little Gerda, and took the precaution to bind her fast on the Reindeer's back; she even gave her
The Reindeer gave a bound for joy. The robber maiden lifted up little Gerda, and took the precaution to bind her fast on the Reindeer's back; she even gave her
a small cushion to sit on. "Here are your worsted leggins, for it will be cold; but the muff I shall keep for myself, for it is so very pretty. But I do not wish you to be cold. Here is a pair of lined gloves of my mother's; they just reach up to your elbow. On with them! Now you look about the hands just like my ugly old mother!"
And Gerda wept for joy.
"I can't bear to see you fretting," said the little robber maiden. "This is just the time when you ought to look pleased. Here are two loaves and a ham for you,
And Gerda wept for joy.
"I can't bear to see you fretting," said the little robber maiden. "This is just the time when you ought to look pleased. Here are two loaves and a ham for you,
so that you won't starve." The bread and the meat were fastened to the Reindeer's back; the little maiden opened the door, called in all the dogs, and
then with her knife cut the rope that fastened the animal, and said to him,
"Now, off with you; but take good care of the little girl!"
And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large wadded gloves towards the robber maiden, and said, "Farewell!" and the Reindeer flew on over bush and bramble through the great wood, over moor and heath, as fast as he could go.
"Ddsa! Ddsa!" was heard in the sky. It was just as if somebody was sneezing.
"These are my old northern-lights," said the Reindeer, "look how they gleam!"
And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large wadded gloves towards the robber maiden, and said, "Farewell!" and the Reindeer flew on over bush and bramble through the great wood, over moor and heath, as fast as he could go.
"Ddsa! Ddsa!" was heard in the sky. It was just as if somebody was sneezing.
"These are my old northern-lights," said the Reindeer, "look how they gleam!"
And on he now sped still quicker--day and night on he went: the loaves were consumed, and the ham too; and now they were in Lapland.
6 STORY
6 STORY
The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman
Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked very miserable.
Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked very miserable.
The roof reached to the ground; and the door was so low, that the family were obliged to creep upon their stomachs when they went in or out. Nobody was at home except an old Lapland woman, who was dressing fish by the light of an oil lamp. And the Reindeer told her the whole of Gerda's history, but first of all his own; for that seemed to him of much greater importance. Gerda was so chilled that she could not speak.
"Poor thing," said the Lapland woman, "you have far to run still. You have more than a hundred miles to go before you get to Finland; there the Snow Queen has her country-house, and burns blue lights every evening. I will give you a few words from me, which I will write on a dried haberdine, for paper I have none; this you can take with you to the Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more information than I can."
When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on the Reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the animal. "Ddsa! Ddsa!" was again heard in the air; the most charming blue lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they came to Finland. They knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman; for as to a door, she had none.
There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman herself went about almost naked. She was diminutive and dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda's clothes, pulled off her thick gloves and boots; for otherwise the heat would have been too great--and after laying a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, read what was written on the fish-skin. She read it three times: she then knew it by heart; so she put the fish into the cupboard--for it might very well be eaten, and she never threw anything away.
Then the Reindeer related his own story first, and afterwards that of little Gerda; and the Finland woman winked her eyes, but said nothing.
"You are so clever," said the Reindeer; "you can, I know, twist all the winds of
"Poor thing," said the Lapland woman, "you have far to run still. You have more than a hundred miles to go before you get to Finland; there the Snow Queen has her country-house, and burns blue lights every evening. I will give you a few words from me, which I will write on a dried haberdine, for paper I have none; this you can take with you to the Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more information than I can."
When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on the Reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the animal. "Ddsa! Ddsa!" was again heard in the air; the most charming blue lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they came to Finland. They knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman; for as to a door, she had none.
There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman herself went about almost naked. She was diminutive and dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda's clothes, pulled off her thick gloves and boots; for otherwise the heat would have been too great--and after laying a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, read what was written on the fish-skin. She read it three times: she then knew it by heart; so she put the fish into the cupboard--for it might very well be eaten, and she never threw anything away.
Then the Reindeer related his own story first, and afterwards that of little Gerda; and the Finland woman winked her eyes, but said nothing.
"You are so clever," said the Reindeer; "you can, I know, twist all the winds of
the world together in a knot. If the seaman loosens one knot, then he has a good wind; if a second, then it blows pretty stiffly; if he undoes the third and fourth, then it rages so that the forests are upturned. Will you give the little maiden a potion, that she may possess the strength of twelve men, and vanquish the
Snow Queen?"
"The strength of twelve men!" said the Finland woman. "Much good that would be!" Then she went to a cupboard, and drew out a large skin rolled up.
"The strength of twelve men!" said the Finland woman. "Much good that would be!" Then she went to a cupboard, and drew out a large skin rolled up.
When she had unrolled it, strange characters were to be seen written thereon; and the Finland woman read at such a rate that the perspiration trickled down
her forehead.
But the Reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked so imploringly with tearful eyes at the Finland woman, that she winked, and drew the Reindeer aside into a corner, where they whispered together, while the animal got some fresh ice put on his head.
"'Tis true little Kay is at the Snow Queen's, and finds everything there quite to his taste; and he thinks it the very best place in the world; but the reason of that is, he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and in his heart. These must be got out first; otherwise he will never go back to mankind, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him."
"But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will endue her with power over the whole?"
"I can give her no more power than what she has already. Don't you see how great it is? Don't you see how men and animals are forced to serve her; how well she gets through the world barefooted? She must not hear of her power from us; that power lies in her heart, because she is a sweet and innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow Queen by herself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help her. Two miles hence the garden of the Snow Queen begins; thither you may carry the little girl. Set her down by the large bush with red berries, standing in the snow; don't stay talking, but hasten back as fast as possible." And now the Finland woman placed little Gerda on the Reindeer's back, and off he ran with all imaginable speed.
"Oh! I have not got my boots! I have not brought my gloves!" cried little Gerda. She remarked she was without them from the cutting frost; but the Reindeer dared not stand still; on he ran till he came to the great bush with the red berries, and there he set Gerda down, kissed her mouth, while large bright tears flowed from the animal's eyes, and then back he went as fast as possible. There stood poor Gerda now, without shoes or gloves, in the very middle of dreadful icy Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could. There then came a whole regiment of snow-flakes, but they did not fall from above, and they were quite bright and shining from the Aurora Borealis. The flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda well remembered how large and strange the snow-flakes appeared when she once saw them through a magnifying-glass; but now they were large and terrific in another manner--they were all alive.
But the Reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked so imploringly with tearful eyes at the Finland woman, that she winked, and drew the Reindeer aside into a corner, where they whispered together, while the animal got some fresh ice put on his head.
"'Tis true little Kay is at the Snow Queen's, and finds everything there quite to his taste; and he thinks it the very best place in the world; but the reason of that is, he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and in his heart. These must be got out first; otherwise he will never go back to mankind, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him."
"But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will endue her with power over the whole?"
"I can give her no more power than what she has already. Don't you see how great it is? Don't you see how men and animals are forced to serve her; how well she gets through the world barefooted? She must not hear of her power from us; that power lies in her heart, because she is a sweet and innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow Queen by herself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help her. Two miles hence the garden of the Snow Queen begins; thither you may carry the little girl. Set her down by the large bush with red berries, standing in the snow; don't stay talking, but hasten back as fast as possible." And now the Finland woman placed little Gerda on the Reindeer's back, and off he ran with all imaginable speed.
"Oh! I have not got my boots! I have not brought my gloves!" cried little Gerda. She remarked she was without them from the cutting frost; but the Reindeer dared not stand still; on he ran till he came to the great bush with the red berries, and there he set Gerda down, kissed her mouth, while large bright tears flowed from the animal's eyes, and then back he went as fast as possible. There stood poor Gerda now, without shoes or gloves, in the very middle of dreadful icy Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could. There then came a whole regiment of snow-flakes, but they did not fall from above, and they were quite bright and shining from the Aurora Borealis. The flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda well remembered how large and strange the snow-flakes appeared when she once saw them through a magnifying-glass; but now they were large and terrific in another manner--they were all alive.
They were the outposts of the Snow Queen. They had the most wondrous shapes; some looked like large ugly porcupines; others like snakes knotted together, with their heads sticking out; and others, again, like small fat bears, with the hair standing on end: all were of dazzling whiteness--all were living snow-flakes.
Little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer. The cold was so intense that she could see her own breath, which came like smoke out of her mouth. It grew thicker and thicker, and took the form of little angels, that grew more and more when they touched the earth. All had helms on their heads, and lances and shields in their hands; they increased in numbers; and when Gerda had finished the Lord's Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole legion.
Little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer. The cold was so intense that she could see her own breath, which came like smoke out of her mouth. It grew thicker and thicker, and took the form of little angels, that grew more and more when they touched the earth. All had helms on their heads, and lances and shields in their hands; they increased in numbers; and when Gerda had finished the Lord's Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole legion.
They thrust at the horrid snow-flakes with their spears, so that they flew into a thousand pieces; and little Gerda walked on bravely and in security. The angels patted her hands and feet; and then she felt the cold less, and went on quickly towards the palace of the Snow Queen.
But now we shall see how Kay fared. He never thought of Gerda, and least of all that she was standing before the palace.
But now we shall see how Kay fared. He never thought of Gerda, and least of all that she was standing before the palace.
7. STORY
What Took Place in the Palace of the Snow Queen, and what Happened Afterward
The walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the windows and doors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred halls there, according as the snow was driven by the winds. The largest was many miles in extent; all were lighted up by the powerful Aurora Borealis, and all were so large, so empty, so icy cold, and so resplendent! Mirth never reigned there; there was never even a little bear-ball, with the storm for music, while the polar bears went on their hind legs and showed off their steps.
The walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the windows and doors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred halls there, according as the snow was driven by the winds. The largest was many miles in extent; all were lighted up by the powerful Aurora Borealis, and all were so large, so empty, so icy cold, and so resplendent! Mirth never reigned there; there was never even a little bear-ball, with the storm for music, while the polar bears went on their hind legs and showed off their steps.
Never a little tea-party of white young lady foxes; vast, cold, and empty were the halls of the Snow Queen. The northern-lights shone with such precision that one could tell exactly when they were at their highest or lowest degree of brightness. In the middle of the empty, endless hall of snow, was a frozen lake; it was cracked in a thousand pieces, but each piece was so like the other, that it seemed the work of a cunning artificer. In the middle of this lake sat the Snow Queen when she was at home; and then she said she was sitting in the Mirror of Understanding, and that this was the only one and the best thing in the world.
Little Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold; but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make something with them; just as we have little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese Puzzle.
Little Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold; but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make something with them; just as we have little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese Puzzle.
Kay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, for it was an ice-puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes the figures were extraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost importance; for the bit of glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole figures which represented a written word; but he never could manage to represent just the word he wanted--that word was "eternity"; and the Snow Queen had said, "If you can discover that figure, you shall be your own master, and I will make you a present of the whole world and a pair of new skates." But he could not find it out.
"I am going now to warm lands," said the Snow Queen. "I must have a look down into the black caldrons." It was the volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna that she meant. "I will just give them a coating of white, for that is as it ought to be; besides, it is good for the oranges and the grapes." And then away she flew, and Kay sat quite alone in the empty halls of ice that were miles long, and looked at the blocks of ice, and thought and thought till his skull was almost cracked. There he sat quite benumbed and motionless; one would have imagined he was frozen to death.
Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds; but Gerda repeated her evening prayer, and the winds were laid as though they slept; and the little maiden entered the vast, empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay: she recognised him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly holding him the while, "Kay, sweet little Kay! Have I then found you at last?"
But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little Gerda shed burning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking-glass; he looked at her, and she sang the hymn:
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there the children to greet."
Hereupon Kay burst into tears; he wept so much that the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognised her, and shouted, "Gerda, sweet little Gerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?" He looked round him. "How cold it is here!" said he. "How empty and cold!" And he held fast by Gerda, who laughed and wept for joy. It was so beautiful, that even the blocks of ice danced about for joy; and when they were tired and laid themselves down, they formed exactly
"I am going now to warm lands," said the Snow Queen. "I must have a look down into the black caldrons." It was the volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna that she meant. "I will just give them a coating of white, for that is as it ought to be; besides, it is good for the oranges and the grapes." And then away she flew, and Kay sat quite alone in the empty halls of ice that were miles long, and looked at the blocks of ice, and thought and thought till his skull was almost cracked. There he sat quite benumbed and motionless; one would have imagined he was frozen to death.
Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds; but Gerda repeated her evening prayer, and the winds were laid as though they slept; and the little maiden entered the vast, empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay: she recognised him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly holding him the while, "Kay, sweet little Kay! Have I then found you at last?"
But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little Gerda shed burning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking-glass; he looked at her, and she sang the hymn:
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there the children to greet."
Hereupon Kay burst into tears; he wept so much that the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognised her, and shouted, "Gerda, sweet little Gerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?" He looked round him. "How cold it is here!" said he. "How empty and cold!" And he held fast by Gerda, who laughed and wept for joy. It was so beautiful, that even the blocks of ice danced about for joy; and when they were tired and laid themselves down, they formed exactly
the letters which the Snow Queen had told him to find out; so now he was his
own master, and he would have the whole world and a pair of new skates into
the bargain.
Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming; she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he was again well and merry. The Snow Queen might come back as soon as she liked; there stood his discharge written in resplendent masses of ice.
They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth out of the large hall; they talked of their old grandmother, and of the roses upon the roof; and wherever they went, the winds ceased raging, and the sun burst forth. And when they reached the bush with the red berries, they found the Reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another, a young one, with him, whose udder was filled with milk, which he gave to the little ones, and kissed their lips. They then carried Kay and Gerda--first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves in the warm room, and learned what they were to do on their journey home; and they went to the Lapland woman, who made some new clothes for them and repaired their sledges.
The Reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside them, and accompanied them to the boundary of the country. Here the first vegetation peeped forth; here Kay and Gerda took leave of the Lapland woman. "Farewell! Farewell!" they all said. And the first green buds appeared, the first little birds began to chirrup; and out of the wood came, riding on a magnificent horse, which Gerda knew (it was one of the leaders in the golden carriage), a young damsel with a bright-red cap on her head, and armed with pistols. It was the little robber maiden, who, tired of being at home, had determined to make a journey to the north; and afterwards in another direction, if that did not please her. She recognised Gerda immediately, and Gerda knew her too. It was a joyful meeting.
"You are a fine fellow for tramping about," said she to little Kay; "I should like to know, faith, if you deserve that one should run from one end of the world to the other for your sake?"
But Gerda patted her cheeks, and inquired for the Prince and Princess.
"They are gone abroad," said the other.
"But the Raven?" asked little Gerda.
"Oh! The Raven is dead," she answered. "His tame sweetheart is a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg; she laments most piteously, but it's all mere talk and stuff! Now tell me what you've been doing and how you managed to catch him."
And Gerda and Kay both told their story.
Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming; she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he was again well and merry. The Snow Queen might come back as soon as she liked; there stood his discharge written in resplendent masses of ice.
They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth out of the large hall; they talked of their old grandmother, and of the roses upon the roof; and wherever they went, the winds ceased raging, and the sun burst forth. And when they reached the bush with the red berries, they found the Reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another, a young one, with him, whose udder was filled with milk, which he gave to the little ones, and kissed their lips. They then carried Kay and Gerda--first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves in the warm room, and learned what they were to do on their journey home; and they went to the Lapland woman, who made some new clothes for them and repaired their sledges.
The Reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside them, and accompanied them to the boundary of the country. Here the first vegetation peeped forth; here Kay and Gerda took leave of the Lapland woman. "Farewell! Farewell!" they all said. And the first green buds appeared, the first little birds began to chirrup; and out of the wood came, riding on a magnificent horse, which Gerda knew (it was one of the leaders in the golden carriage), a young damsel with a bright-red cap on her head, and armed with pistols. It was the little robber maiden, who, tired of being at home, had determined to make a journey to the north; and afterwards in another direction, if that did not please her. She recognised Gerda immediately, and Gerda knew her too. It was a joyful meeting.
"You are a fine fellow for tramping about," said she to little Kay; "I should like to know, faith, if you deserve that one should run from one end of the world to the other for your sake?"
But Gerda patted her cheeks, and inquired for the Prince and Princess.
"They are gone abroad," said the other.
"But the Raven?" asked little Gerda.
"Oh! The Raven is dead," she answered. "His tame sweetheart is a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg; she laments most piteously, but it's all mere talk and stuff! Now tell me what you've been doing and how you managed to catch him."
And Gerda and Kay both told their story.
And "Schnipp-schnapp-schnurre-basselurre," said the robber maiden; and she took the hands of each, and promised that if she should some day pass through the town where they lived, she would come and visit them; and then away she rode. Kay and Gerda took each other's hand: it was lovely spring weather, with abundance of flowers and of verdure. The church-bells rang, and the children recognised the high towers, and the large town; it was that in which they dwelt. They entered and hastened up to their grandmother's room, where everything was standing as formerly.
The clock said "tick! tack!" and the finger moved round; but as they entered, they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses on the leads hung blooming in at the open window; there stood the little children's chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat down on them, holding each other by the hand; they both had forgotten the cold empty splendor of the Snow Queen, as though it had been a dream.
The grandmother sat in the bright sunshine, and read aloud from the Bible: "Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven."
And Kay and Gerda looked in each other's eyes,
And Kay and Gerda looked in each other's eyes,
and all at once they understood the old hymn:
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet,
"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet,
And angels descend there the children to greet."
There sat the two grown-up persons; grown-up, and yet children; children at least in heart; and it was summer-time; summer, glorious summer!
There sat the two grown-up persons; grown-up, and yet children; children at least in heart; and it was summer-time; summer, glorious summer!
Sněhová královna
V jednom dalekém městě žil chlapec Kája a dívka Gerda. Kamarádili spolu už od malička a měli se velice rádi. Babička jim každé odpoledne čítávala pohádky. Jednoho dne jim začala vyprávět příběh o Sněhové královně. Kája a Gerda napjatě poslouchali, jak královna přichází se zimou a je chladná jako led. Někdy se dívá do oken a na okenní skla kreslí záhadné obrazce.
Káj se kasal, že se vůbec nebojí, ale večer, když venku začal padat první sníh a uviděl v okně sněhobílou paní, strachy zkameněl. Nemohl od ní odtrhnout zrak a tu ho cosi píchlo v oku. Byl to kousek ďábelského zrcadla. Od té chvíle jakoby se v něm něco změnilo. Všechno dobré mu přišlo hloupé a nic ho nebavilo. Ani s Gerdou už si nechtěl hrát. Jednoho dne ho něco táhlo na náměstí. Vzal si tedy sáňky a utíkal s nimi k náměstí. Tam uviděl velké bílé sáně, ze kterých vystoupila Sněhová královna. Ta lákala Káje, aby k ní přišel blíž. Políbila ho na čelo a Káj zapomněl na svou nejmilejší Gerdu. Královna ho odvezla do krajiny věčného ledu a sněhu.
Gerda marně čekala na Káje, ale ten se neukázal. Po čase se ho vydala hledat. Nikdo o něm nic nevěděl ani neslyšel. Jakoby se po něm zem slehla. Kousek za městem potkala velkou černou vránu. Ta jí pověděla, že jejího Káje asi viděla a dovedla ji do zámku. V zámku sice bydlel chlapec, ale nebyl to Káj. Gerda princi pověděla svůj příběh. Ten ji vyslechl až do konce a dal ji na cestu teplé boty, kabát a kočár.
V lese přepadli kočár loupežníci, ale Gerdu zachránila loupežníkova dcera. Dívenka byla ráda, že si má s kým hrát, ale dlouho jí to nevydrželo. Gerda opět vyprávěla svůj příběh. Dívce se jí zželelo a dala ji svého soba. Gerda se s ním vydala na cestu. Po nějaké době se sob zastavil a praví: „Odtud už musíš jít sama, já do ledového království vstoupit nesmím.“
Gerda se chvíli brodila sněhem, až uviděla zámek postavený z ledu. Gerda chvíli váhala než vešla dovnitř. V celém zámku byla hrozná zima. Procházela všemi komnatami a v té největší našla Káje. Gerda ho štěstím objala, ale ten ji nepoznal. Gerdě začaly z očí téct slzy z velkého zklamání. Její horké slzy rozmrazily Kájovo ledové srdce. Káj se samým štěstím ze shledání se svou kamarádkou rozplakal a z oka mu vypadl kousek ďábelského zrcadla. Nyní už nad ním královna neměla vůbec žádnou moc.
Děti se společně vrátily domů a vše dobře dopadlo. Kája a Gerda si zase hráli a poslouchali babiččiny pohádky jako dřív.
Káj se kasal, že se vůbec nebojí, ale večer, když venku začal padat první sníh a uviděl v okně sněhobílou paní, strachy zkameněl. Nemohl od ní odtrhnout zrak a tu ho cosi píchlo v oku. Byl to kousek ďábelského zrcadla. Od té chvíle jakoby se v něm něco změnilo. Všechno dobré mu přišlo hloupé a nic ho nebavilo. Ani s Gerdou už si nechtěl hrát. Jednoho dne ho něco táhlo na náměstí. Vzal si tedy sáňky a utíkal s nimi k náměstí. Tam uviděl velké bílé sáně, ze kterých vystoupila Sněhová královna. Ta lákala Káje, aby k ní přišel blíž. Políbila ho na čelo a Káj zapomněl na svou nejmilejší Gerdu. Královna ho odvezla do krajiny věčného ledu a sněhu.
Gerda marně čekala na Káje, ale ten se neukázal. Po čase se ho vydala hledat. Nikdo o něm nic nevěděl ani neslyšel. Jakoby se po něm zem slehla. Kousek za městem potkala velkou černou vránu. Ta jí pověděla, že jejího Káje asi viděla a dovedla ji do zámku. V zámku sice bydlel chlapec, ale nebyl to Káj. Gerda princi pověděla svůj příběh. Ten ji vyslechl až do konce a dal ji na cestu teplé boty, kabát a kočár.
V lese přepadli kočár loupežníci, ale Gerdu zachránila loupežníkova dcera. Dívenka byla ráda, že si má s kým hrát, ale dlouho jí to nevydrželo. Gerda opět vyprávěla svůj příběh. Dívce se jí zželelo a dala ji svého soba. Gerda se s ním vydala na cestu. Po nějaké době se sob zastavil a praví: „Odtud už musíš jít sama, já do ledového království vstoupit nesmím.“
Gerda se chvíli brodila sněhem, až uviděla zámek postavený z ledu. Gerda chvíli váhala než vešla dovnitř. V celém zámku byla hrozná zima. Procházela všemi komnatami a v té největší našla Káje. Gerda ho štěstím objala, ale ten ji nepoznal. Gerdě začaly z očí téct slzy z velkého zklamání. Její horké slzy rozmrazily Kájovo ledové srdce. Káj se samým štěstím ze shledání se svou kamarádkou rozplakal a z oka mu vypadl kousek ďábelského zrcadla. Nyní už nad ním královna neměla vůbec žádnou moc.
Děti se společně vrátily domů a vše dobře dopadlo. Kája a Gerda si zase hráli a poslouchali babiččiny pohádky jako dřív.
