was invited to stay at the palace and enjoy all sorts of diversions, but
she begged only for a little carriage and a horse, and a pair of little
boots,--all she desired was to go again into the wide world to seek Kay.
And they gave her the boots and a muff besides; she was dressed so
prettily. And as soon as she was ready there drove up to the door a new
carriage of pure gold with the arms of the prince and princess
glittering upon it like a star, the coachman, the footman, and
outriders, all wearing gold crowns. The prince and princess themselves
helped her into the carriage and wished her success. The wood-raven, who
was now married, accompanied her the first three miles; he sat by her
side, for riding backwards was a thing he could not bear. The other
raven stood at the door flapping her wings; she did not go with them on
account of a headache she had felt ever since she had received her
appointment, in consequence of eating too much. The carriage was well
provided with sugar-plums, fruit, and gingerbread nuts.
‘Farewell! farewell!’ cried the prince and princess. Little Gerda wept,
and the raven wept out of sympathy. But his farewell was a far sorer
trial; he flew up to the branch of a tree and flapped his black wings at
the carriage till it was out of sight.
[Illustration]
PART THE FIFTH
THE LITTLE ROBBER MAIDEN
They drove through the dark, dark forest; the carriage shone like a
torch. Unfortunately its brightness attracted the eyes of the robbers
who dwelt in the forest-shades; they could not bear it.
‘That is gold! gold!’ cried they. Forward they rushed, seized the
horses, stabbed the outriders, coachman, and footmen to death, and
dragged little Gerda out of the carriage.
‘She is plump, she is pretty, she has been fed on nut-kernels,’ said the
old robber-wife, who had a long, bristly beard, and eyebrows hanging
like bushes over her eyes. ‘She is like a little fat lamb, and how
smartly she is dressed!’ and she drew out her bright dagger, glittering
most terribly.
‘Oh, oh!’ cried the woman, for at the very moment she had lifted her
dagger to stab Gerda, her own wild and wilful daughter jumped upon her
back and bit her ear violently. ‘You naughty child!’ said the mother.
‘She shall play with me,’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘she shall give
me her muff and her pretty frock, and sleep with me in my bed!’ And then
she bit her mother again, till the robber-wife sprang up and shrieked
with pain, whilst the robbers all laughed, saying, ‘Look at her playing
with her young one!’
‘I will get into the carriage,’ and so spoiled and wayward was the
little robber-maiden that she always had her own way, and she and Gerda
sat together in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone farther and
farther into the wood. The little robber-maiden was about as tall as
Gerda, but much stronger; she had broad shoulders, and a very dark skin;
her eyes were quite black, and had an expression almost melancholy. She
put her arm round Gerda’s waist, and said, ‘She shall not kill thee so
long as I love thee! Art thou not a princess?’
‘No!’ said Gerda; and then she told her all that had happened to her,
and how much she loved little Kay.
The robber-maiden looked earnestly in her face, shook her head, and
said, ‘She shall not kill thee even if I do quarrel with thee; then,
indeed, I would rather do it myself!’ And she dried Gerda’s tears, and
put both her hands into the pretty muff that was so soft and warm.
The carriage at last stopped in the middle of the courtyard of the
robbers’ castle. This castle was half-ruined; crows and ravens flew out
of the openings, and some fearfully large bull-dogs, looking as if they
could devour a man in a moment, jumped round the carriage; they did not
bark, for that was forbidden.
The maidens entered a large, smoky hall, where a tremendous fire was
blazing on the stone floor; the smoke rose up to the ceiling, seeking a
way of escape, for there was no chimney; a large caldron full of soup
was boiling over the fire, whilst hares and rabbits were roasting on the
spit.
‘Thou shalt sleep with me and my little pets to-night!’ said the
robber-maiden. Then they had some food, and afterwards went to the
corner wherein lay straw and a piece of carpet. Nearly a hundred pigeons
were perched on staves and laths around them; they seemed to be asleep,
but were startled when the little maidens approached.
‘These all belong to me,’ said Gerda’s companion, and seizing hold of
one of the nearest, she held the poor bird by the feet and swung it.
‘Kiss it,’ said she, flapping it into Gerda’s face. ‘The rabble from the
wood sit up there,’ continued she, pointing to a number of laths
fastened across a hole in the wall; ‘those are wood-pigeons, they would
fly away if I did not keep them shut up. And here is my old favourite!’
She pulled forward by the horn a reindeer who wore a bright copper ring
round his neck, by which he was fastened to a large stone. ‘We are
obliged to chain him up, or he would run away from us; every evening I
tickle his neck with my sharp dagger; it makes him fear me so much!’ and
the robber-maiden drew out a long dagger from a gap in the wall, and
passed it over the reindeer’s throat; the poor animal struggled and
kicked, but the girl laughed, and then she pulled Gerda into bed with
her.
‘Will you keep the dagger in your hand whilst you sleep?’ asked Gerda,
looking timidly at the dangerous plaything.
‘I always sleep with my dagger by my side,’ replied the little
robber-maiden; ‘one never knows what may happen. But now tell me all
over again what you told me before about
[Illustration: AND THE NEARER THEY WERE TO THE DOOR THE PROUDER THEY
LOOKED]
Kay, and the reason of your coming into the wide world all by yourself.’
And Gerda again related her history, and the wood-pigeons imprisoned
above listened, but the others were fast asleep. The little
robber-maiden threw one arm round Gerda’s neck, and holding the dagger
with the other, was also soon asleep; one could hear her heavy
breathing, but Gerda could not close her eyes throughout the night--she
knew not what would become of her, whether she would even be suffered to
live. The robbers sat round the fire drinking and singing. Oh, it was a
dreadful night for the poor little girl!
Then spoke the wood-pigeons, ‘Coo, coo, coo! we have seen little Kay. A
white fowl carried his sledge, he himself was in the Snow Queen’s
chariot, which passed through the wood whilst we sat in our nest. She
breathed upon us young ones as she passed, and all died of her breath
excepting us two,--coo, coo, coo!’
‘What are you saying?’ cried Gerda; ‘where was the Snow Queen going? Do
you know anything about it?’
‘She travels most likely to Lapland, where ice and snow abide all the
year round. Ask the reindeer bound to the rope there.’
‘Yes, ice and snow are there all through the year; it is a glorious
land!’ said the reindeer. ‘There, free and happy, one can roam through
the wide sparkling valleys! There the Snow Queen has her summer-tent;
her strong castle is very far off, near the North Pole, on the island
called Spitsbergen.’
‘O Kay, dear Kay!’ sighed Gerda.
‘You must lie still,’ said the robber-maiden, ‘or I will thrust my
dagger into your side.’
When morning came Gerda repeated to her what the wood-pigeons had said,
and the little robber-maiden looked grave for a moment, then nodded her
head, saying, ‘No matter! no matter! Do you know where Lapland is?’
asked she of the reindeer.
‘Who should know but I?’ returned the animal, his eyes kindling. ‘There
was I born and bred, there how often have I bounded over the wild icy
plains!’
‘Listen to me!’ said the robber-maiden to Gerda. ‘You see all our men
are gone; my mother is still here and will remain, but towards noon she
will drink a little out of the great flask, and after that she will
sleep--then I will do something for you!’ And so saying she jumped out
of bed, sprang upon her mother, pulled her by the beard, and said, ‘My
own dear mam, good morning!’ and the mother caressed her so roughly that
she was red and blue all over; however, it was from pure love.
When her mother was fast asleep, the robber-maiden went up to the
reindeer, and said, ‘I should have great pleasure in stroking you a few
more times with my sharp dagger, for then you look so droll, but never
mind, I will unloose your chain and help you to escape, on condition
that you run as fast as you can to Lapland, and take this little girl to
the castle of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You must have
heard her story, for she speaks loud enough, and you know well how to
listen.’
The reindeer bounded with joy, and the robber-maiden lifted Gerda on his
back, taking the precaution to bind her on firmly, as well as to give
her a little cushion to sit on. ‘And here,’ said she, ‘are your fur
boots, you will need them in that cold country; the muff I must keep
myself, it is too pretty to part with; but you shall not be frozen. Here
are my mother’s huge gloves, they reach up to the elbow; put them
on--now your hands look as clumsy as my old mother’s!’
And Gerda shed tears of joy.
‘I cannot bear to see you crying!’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘you
ought to look glad; see, here are two loaves and a piece of bacon for
you, that you may not be hungry on the way.’ She fastened this provender
also on the reindeer’s back, opened the door, called away the great
dogs, and then cutting asunder with her dagger the rope which bound the
reindeer, shouted to him, ‘Now then, run! but take good care of the
little girl.’
And Gerda stretched out her hands to the robber-maiden and bade her
farewell, and the reindeer fleeted through the forest, over stock and
stone, over desert and heath, over meadow and moor. The wolves howled
and the ravens shrieked. ‘Isch! Isch!’ a red light flashed--one might
have fancied the sky was sneezing.
‘Those are my dear old Northern Lights!’ said the reindeer; ‘look at
them, how beautiful they are!’ And he ran faster than ever, night and
day he ran--the loaves were eaten, so was the bacon--at last they were
in Lapland.
[Illustration: AND FLAPPED HIS BLACK WINGS AT THE CARRIAGE TILL IT WAS
OUT OF SIGHT]
PART THE SIXTH
THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN
They stopped at a little hut, a wretched hut it was; the roof very
nearly touched the ground, and the door was so low that whoever wished
to go either in or out was obliged to crawl upon hands and knees. No one
was at home except the old Lapland woman, who was busy boiling fish over
a lamp filled with train oil. The reindeer related to her Gerda’s whole
history, not, however, till after he had made her acquainted with his
own, which appeared to him of much more importance. Poor Gerda,
meanwhile, was so overpowered by the cold that she could not speak.
‘Ah, poor things!’ said the Lapland woman, ‘you have still a long way
before you! You have a hundred miles to run before you can arrive in
Finland: the Snow Queen dwells there, and burns blue lights every
evening. I will write for you a few words on a piece of dried
stock-fish--paper I have none--and you may take it with you to the wise
Finland woman who lives there; she will advise you better than I can.’
So when Gerda had well warmed herself and taken some food, the Lapland
woman wrote a few words on a dried stock-fish, bade Gerda take care of
it, and bound her once more firmly on the reindeer’s back.
Onwards they sped, the wondrous Northern Lights, now of the loveliest,
brightest blue colour, shone all through the night, and amidst these
splendid illuminations they arrived in Finland, and knocked at the
chimney of the wise-woman, for door to her house she had none.
Hot, very hot was it within--so much so that the wise-woman wore
scarcely any clothing; she was low in stature and very dirty. She
immediately loosened little Gerda’s dress, took off her fur boots and
thick gloves, laid a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and then read
what was written on the stock-fish. She read it three times. After the
third reading she knew it by heart, and threw the fish into the
porridge-pot, for it might make a very excellent supper, and she never
wasted anything.
The reindeer then repeated his own story, and when that was finished he
told of little Gerda’s adventures, and the wise-woman twinkled her wise
eyes, but spoke not a word.
‘Thou art so powerful,’ continued the reindeer, ‘that I know thou canst
twist all the winds of the world into a thread, of which if the pilot
loosen one knot he will have a favourable wind; if he loosen the second
it will blow sharp, and if he loosen the third, so tremendous a storm
will arise that the trees of the forest will be uprooted, and the ship
wrecked. Wilt thou not mix for this little maiden that wonderful draught
which will give her the strength of twelve men, and thus enable her to
overcome the Snow Queen?’
‘The strength of twelve men!’ repeated the wise-woman, ‘that would be of
much use to be sure!’ and she walked away, drew forth a large parchment
roll from a shelf and began to read. What strange characters were seen
inscribed on the scroll as the wise-woman slowly unrolled it! She read
so intently that the perspiration ran down her forehead.
But the reindeer pleaded so earnestly for little Gerda, and Gerda’s eyes
were raised so entreatingly and tearfully, that at last the wise-woman’s
eyes began to twinkle again out of sympathy, and she drew the reindeer
into a corner, and putting a fresh piece of ice upon his head, whispered
thus:
‘Little Kay is still with the Snow Queen, in whose abode everything is
according to his taste, and therefore he believes it to be the best
place in the world. But that is because he has a glass splinter in his
heart, and a glass splinter in his eye--until he has got rid of them he
will never feel like a human being, and the Snow Queen will always
maintain her influence over him.’
‘But canst thou not give something to little Gerda whereby she may
overcome all these evil influences?’
[Illustration: THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN]
‘I can give her no power so great as that which she already possesses.
Seest thou not how strong she is? Seest thou not that both men and
animals must serve her--a poor little girl wandering barefoot through
the world? Her power is greater than ours; it proceeds from her heart,
from her being a loving and innocent child. If this power which she
already possesses cannot give her access to the Snow Queen’s palace, and
enable her to free Kay’s eye and heart from the glass fragment, we can
do nothing for her! Two miles hence is the Snow Queen’s garden; thither
thou canst carry the little maiden. Put her down close by the bush
bearing red berries and half covered with snow: lose no time, and hasten
back to this place!’
And the wise-woman lifted Gerda on the reindeer’s back, and away they
went.
‘Oh, I have left my boots behind! I have left my gloves behind,’ cried
little Gerda, when it was too late. The cold was piercing, but the
reindeer dared not stop; on he ran until he reached the bush with the
red berries. Here he set Gerda down, kissed her, the tears rolling down
his cheeks the while, and ran fast back again--which was the best thing
he could do. And there stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves,
alone in that barren region, that terribly icy-cold Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could; a whole regiment of snow-flakes came to
meet her. They did not fall from the sky, which was cloudless and bright
with the Northern Lights; they ran straight along the ground, and the
farther Gerda advanced the larger they grew. Gerda then remembered how
large and curious the snow-flakes had appeared to her when one day she
had looked at them through a burning-glass; these, however, were very
much larger, they were living forms, they were in fact the Snow Queen’s
guards. Their shapes were the strangest that could be imagined; some
looked like great ugly porcupines, others like snakes rolled into knots
with their heads peering forth, and others like little fat bears with
bristling hair--all, however, were alike dazzlingly white--all were
living snow-flakes. Little Gerda began to repeat ‘Our Father’:
meanwhile, the cold was so intense that she could see her own breath,
which, as it escaped her mouth, ascended into the air like vapour; the
cold grew intense, the vapour more dense, and at length took the forms
of little bright angels which, as they touched the earth, became larger
and more distinct. They wore helmets on their heads, and carried shields
and spears in their hands; their number increased so rapidly that, by
the time Gerda had finished her prayer, a whole legion stood around her.
They thrust with their spears against the horrible snow-flakes, which
fell into thousands of pieces, and little Gerda walked on unhurt and
undaunted. The angels touched her hands and feet, and then she scarcely
felt the cold, and boldly approached the Snow Queen’s palace.
But before we accompany her there, let us see what Kay is doing. He is
certainly not thinking of little Gerda; least of all can he imagine that
she is now standing at the palace gate.
[Illustration]
PART THE SEVENTH
WHICH TREATS OF THE SNOW QUEEN’S PALACE, AND OF WHAT CAME TO PASS
THEREIN
The walls of the palace were formed of the driven snow, its doors and
windows of the cutting winds. There were above a hundred halls, the
largest of them many miles in extent, all illuminated by the Northern
Lights, all alike vast, empty, icily cold, and dazzlingly white. No
sounds of mirth ever resounded through these dreary spaces; no cheerful
scene refreshed the sight--not even so much as a bear’s ball, such as
one might imagine sometimes takes place, the tempest forming a band of
musicians, and the polar bears standing on their hind paws and
exhibiting themselves in the oddest positions. Nor was there ever a
card-assembly, wherein the cards might be held in the mouth and dealt
out by paws; nor even a small select coffee-party for the white young
lady foxes. Vast, empty, and cold were the Snow Queen’s chambers, and
the Northern Lights flashed, now high, now low, in regular gradations.
In the midst of the empty, interminable snow saloon lay a frozen lake;
it was broken into a thousand pieces, but these pieces so exactly
resembled each other, that the breaking of them might well be deemed a
work of more than human skill. The Snow Queen, when at home, always sat
in the centre of this lake; she used to say that she was then sitting on
the Mirror of Reason, and that hers was the best, indeed the only one,
in the world.
Little Kay was quite blue, nay, almost black with cold, but he did not
observe it, for the Snow Queen had kissed away the shrinking feeling he
used to experience, and his heart was like a lump of ice. He was busied
among the sharp icy fragments, laying and joining them together in every
possible way, just as people do with what are called Chinese puzzles.
Kay could form the most curious and complete figures--this was the
ice-puzzle of reason--and in his eyes these figures were of the utmost
importance. He often formed whole words, but there was one word he could
never succeed in forming--it was Eternity. The Snow Queen had said to
him, ‘When thou canst put that figure together, thou shalt become thine
own master and I will give thee the whole world, and a new pair of
skates besides.’
But he could never do it.
‘Now I am going to the warm countries,’ said the Snow Queen. ‘I shall
flit through the air, and look into the black caldrons’--she meant the
burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius. ‘I shall whiten them a little;
that will be good for the citrons and vineyards.’ So away flew the Snow
Queen, leaving Kay sitting all alone in the large empty hall of ice. He
looked at the fragments, and thought and thought till his head ached. He
sat so still and so stiff that one might have fancied that he too was
frozen.
Cold and cutting blew the winds when little Gerda passed through the
palace gates, but she repeated her evening prayer, and they immediately
sank to rest. She entered the large, cold, empty hall: she saw Kay, she
recognised him, she flew upon his neck, she held him fast, and cried,
‘Kay! dear, dear Kay! I have found thee at last!’
But he sat still as before, cold, silent, motionless; his unkindness
wounded poor Gerda deeply. Hot and bitter were the tears she shed; they
fell upon his breast, they reached his heart, they thawed the ice and
dissolved the tiny splinter of glass within it. He looked at her whilst
she sang her hymn--
‘Our roses bloom and fade away,
Our Infant Lord abides alway;
May we be blessed His face to see,
And ever little children be!’
Then Kay burst into tears. He wept till the glass splinter floated in
his eye and fell with his tears; he knew his old companion immediately,
and exclaimed with joy, ‘Gerda, my dear little Gerda, where hast thou
been all this time?--and where have I been?’
He looked around him. ‘How cold it is here! how wide and empty!’ and he
embraced Gerda, whilst she laughed and wept by turns. Even the pieces of
ice took part in their joy; they danced about merrily, and when they
were wearied and lay down they formed of their own accord the mystical
letters of which the Snow Queen had said that when Kay could put them
together he should be his own master, and that she would give him the
whole world, with a new pair of skates besides.
And Gerda kissed his cheeks, whereupon they became fresh and glowing as
ever; she kissed his eyes, and they sparkled like her own; she kissed
his hands and feet, and he was once more healthy and merry. The Snow
Queen might now come home as soon as she liked--it mattered not; Kay’s
charter of freedom stood written on the mirror in bright icy characters.
[Illustration: SHE RAN ON AS FAST AS SHE COULD]
They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth out of the palace,
talking meanwhile about the aged grandmother and the rose-trees on the
roof of their houses; and as they walked on, the winds were hushed into
a calm, and the sun burst forth in splendour from among the dark
storm-clouds. When they arrived at the bush with the red berries, they
found the reindeer standing by awaiting their arrival; he had brought
with him another and younger reindeer, whose udders were full, and who
gladly gave her warm milk to refresh the young travellers.
The old reindeer and the young hind now carried Kay and Gerda on their
backs, first to the little hot room of the wise-woman of Finland, where
they warmed themselves, and received advice how to proceed in their
journey home, and afterwards to the abode of the Lapland woman, who made
them some new clothes and provided them with a sledge.
The whole party now ran on together till they came to the boundary of
the country; but just where the green leaves began to sprout, the
Lapland woman and the two reindeers took their leave. ‘Farewell!
farewell!’ said they all. And the first little birds they had seen for
many a long day began to chirp, and warble their pretty songs; and the
trees of the forest burst upon them full of rich and variously tinted
foliage. Suddenly the green boughs parted asunder, and a spirited horse
galloped up. Gerda knew it well, for it was the one which had been
harnessed to her gold coach; and on it sat a young girl wearing a bright
scarlet cap, and with pistols on the holster before her. It was indeed
no other than the robber-maiden, who, weary of her home in the forest,
was going on her travels, first to the north and afterwards to other
parts of the world. She at once recognised Gerda, and Gerda had not
forgotten her. Most joyful was their greeting.
‘A fine gentleman you are, to be sure, you graceless young truant!’ said
she to Kay. ‘I should like to know if you deserved that any one should
be running to the end of the world on your account!’
[Illustration: SHE ENTERED THE LARGE, COLD, EMPTY HALL]
But Gerda stroked her cheeks, and asked after the prince and princess.
‘They are gone travelling into foreign countries,’ replied the
robber-maiden.
‘And the raven?’ asked Gerda.
‘Ah! the raven is dead,’ returned she. ‘The tame beloved has become a
widow; so she hops about with a piece of worsted wound round her leg;
she moans most piteously, and chatters more than ever! But tell me now
all that has happened to you, and how you managed to pick up your old
playfellow.’
And Gerda and Kay told their story.
‘Snip-snap-snurre-basselurre!’ said the robber-maiden. She pressed the
hands of both, promised that if ever she passed through their town she
would pay them a visit, and then bade them farewell, and rode away out
into the wide world.