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 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. 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. 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. 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.
SEVENTH 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. 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.
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 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.
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 all at once they
understood the old hymn:
“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!