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?' '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. 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; 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; 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? 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.
“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,
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. 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 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. 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.