dropped asleep, the little robber girl went along to the reindeer, and
said, 'I should have the greatest pleasure in the world in keeping you
here, to tickle you with my knife, because you are such fun then;
however, it does not matter. I will untie your halter and help you
outside so that you may run away to Lapland, but you must put your best
foot foremost, and take this little girl for me to the Snow Queen's
palace, where her playfellow is. I have no doubt you heard what she was
telling me, for she spoke loud enough, and you are generally
eavesdropping!'
The reindeer jumped into the air for joy. The robber girl lifted little
Gerda up, and had the forethought to tie her on, nay, even to give her a
little cushion to sit upon. 'Here, after all, I will give you your fur
boots back, for it will be very cold, but I will keep your muff, it is
too pretty to part with. Still you shan't be cold. Here are my mother's
big mittens for you, they will reach up to your elbows; here, stick your
hands in! Now your hands look just like my nasty mother's!'
Gerda shed tears of joy.
'I don't like you to whimper!' said the little robber girl. 'You ought
to be looking delighted; and here are two loaves and a ham for you, so
that you shan't starve.'
These things were tied on to the back of the reindeer; the little robber
girl opened the door, called in all the big dogs, and then she cut the
halter with her knife, and said to the reindeer, 'Now run, but take care
of my little girl!'
Gerda stretched out her hands in the big mittens to the robber girl and
said good-bye; and then the reindeer darted off over briars and bushes,
through the big wood, over swamps and plains, as fast as it could go.
The wolves howled and the ravens screamed, while the red lights quivered
up in the sky.
'There are my old northern lights,' said the reindeer; 'see how they
flash!' and on it rushed faster than ever, day and night. The loaves
were eaten, and the ham too, and then they were in Lapland.
SIXTH STORY
THE LAPP WOMAN AND THE FINN WOMAN
[Illustration: _The reindeer did not dare to stop. It ran on till it
came to the bush with the red berries. There it put Gerda down, and
kissed her on the mouth, while big shining tears trickled down its
face._]
They stopped by a little hut, a very poverty-stricken one; the roof
sloped right down to the ground, and the door was so low that the people
had to creep on hands and knees when they wanted to go in or out. There
was nobody at home here but an old Lapp woman, who was frying fish over
a train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her all Gerda's story, but it told
its own first; for it thought it was much the most important. Gerda was
so overcome by the cold that she could not speak at all.
'Oh, you poor creatures!' said the Lapp woman; 'you've got a long way
to go yet; you will have to go hundreds of miles into Finmark, for the
Snow Queen is paying a country visit there, and she burns blue lights
every night. I will write a few words on a dried stock-fish, for I have
no paper. I will give it to you to take to the Finn woman up there. She
will be better able to direct you than I can.'
So when Gerda was warmed, and had eaten and drunk something, the Lapp
woman wrote a few words on a dried stock-fish and gave it to her,
bidding her take good care of it. Then she tied her on to the reindeer
again, and off they flew. Flicker, flicker, went the beautiful blue
northern lights up in the sky all night long;--at last they came to
Finmark, and knocked on the Finn woman's chimney, for she had no door at
all.
There was such a heat inside that the Finn woman went about almost
naked; she was little and very grubby. She at once loosened Gerda's
things, and took off the mittens and the boots, or she would have been
too hot. Then she put a piece of ice on the reindeer's head, and after
that she read what was written on the stock-fish. She read it three
times, and then she knew it by heart, and put the fish into the pot for
dinner; there was no reason why it should not be eaten, and she never
wasted anything.
Again the reindeer told his own story first, and then little Gerda's.
The Finn woman blinked with her wise eyes, but she said nothing.
'You are so clever,' said the reindeer, 'I know you can bind all the
winds of the world with a bit of sewing cotton. When a skipper unties
one knot he gets a good wind, when he unties two it blows hard, and if
he undoes the third and the fourth he brings a storm about his head wild
enough to blow down the forest trees. Won't you give the little girl a
drink, so that she may have the strength of twelve men to overcome the
Snow Queen?'
'The strength of twelve men,' said the Finn woman. 'Yes, that will be
about enough.'
She went along to a shelf and took down a big folded skin, which she
unrolled. There were curious characters written on it, and the Finn
woman read till the perspiration poured down her forehead.
But the reindeer again implored her to give Gerda something, and Gerda
looked at her with such beseeching eyes, full of tears, that the Finn
woman began blinking again, and drew the reindeer along into a corner,
where she whispered to it, at the same time putting fresh ice on its
head.
'Little Kay is certainly with the Snow Queen, and he is delighted with
everything there. He thinks it is the best place in the world, but that
is because he has got a splinter of glass in his heart and a grain of
glass in his eye. They will have to come out first, or he will never be
human again, and the Snow Queen will keep him in her power!'
'But can't you give little Gerda something to take which will give her
power to conquer it all?'
'I can't give her greater power than she already has. Don't you see how
great it is? Don't you see how both man and beast have to serve her? How
she has got on as well as she has on her bare feet? We must not tell her
what power she has; it is in her heart, because she is such a sweet
innocent child. If she can't reach the Snow Queen herself, then we can't
help her. The Snow Queen's gardens begin just two miles from here; you
can carry the little girl as far as that. Put her down by the big bush
standing there in the snow covered with red berries. Don't stand
gossiping, but hurry back to me!' Then the Finn woman lifted Gerda on
the reindeer's back, and it rushed off as hard as it could.
'Oh, I have not got my boots, and I have not got my mittens!' cried
little Gerda.
She soon felt the want of them in that cutting wind, but the reindeer
did not dare to stop. It ran on till it came to the bush with the red
berries. There it put Gerda down, and kissed her on the mouth, while big
shining tears trickled down its face. Then it ran back again as fast as
ever it could. There stood poor little Gerda, without shoes or
gloves, in the middle of freezing icebound Finmark.
She ran forward as quickly as she could. A whole regiment of snow-flakes
came towards her; they did not fall from the sky, for it was quite
clear, with the northern lights shining brightly. No; these snow-flakes
ran along the ground, and the nearer they came the bigger they grew.
Gerda remembered well how big and ingenious they looked under the
magnifying glass. But the size of these was monstrous. They were alive;
they were the Snow Queen's advanced guard, and they took the most
curious shapes. Some looked like big, horrid porcupines, some like
bundles of knotted snakes with their heads sticking out. Others, again,
were like fat little bears with bristling hair, but all were dazzling
white and living snow-flakes.
Then little Gerda said the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great that
her breath froze as it came out of her mouth, and she could see it like
a cloud of smoke in front of her. It grew thicker and thicker, till it
formed itself into bright little angels, who grew bigger and bigger when
they touched the ground. They all wore helmets, and carried shields and
spears in their hands. More and more of them appeared, and when Gerda
had finished her prayer she was surrounded by a whole legion. They
pierced the snow-flakes with their spears and shivered them into a
hundred pieces, and little Gerda walked fearlessly and undauntedly
through them. The angels touched her hands and her feet, and then she
hardly felt how cold it was, but walked quickly on towards the Palace of
the Snow Queen.
Now we must see what Kay was about. He was not thinking about Gerda at
all, least of all that she was just outside the Palace.
SEVENTH STORY
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SNOW QUEEN'S PALACE AND AFTERWARDS
[Illustration: _The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when she sat
at home._]
The Palace walls were made of drifted snow, and the windows and doors of
the biting winds. There were over a hundred rooms in it, shaped just as
the snow had drifted. The biggest one stretched for many miles. They
were all lighted by the strongest northern lights. All the rooms were
immensely big and empty, and glittering in their iciness. There was
never any gaiety in them; not even so much as a ball for the little
bears, when the storms might have turned up as the orchestra, and the
polar bears might have walked about on their hind legs and shown off
their grand manners. There was never even a little game-playing party,
for such games as 'touch last' or 'the biter bit'--no, not even a little
gossip over the coffee cups for the white fox misses. Immense, vast,
and cold were the Snow Queen's halls. The northern lights came and went
with such regularity that you could count the seconds between their
coming and going. In the midst of these never-ending snow-halls was a
frozen lake. It was broken up on the surface into a thousand bits, but
each piece was so exactly like the others that the whole formed a
perfect work of art. The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when
she sat at home. She then said that she was sitting on 'The Mirror of
Reason,' and that it was the best and only one in the world.
Little Kay was blue with cold, nay, almost black; but he did not know
it, for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and his heart
was little better than a lump of ice. He went about dragging some sharp,
flat pieces of ice, which he placed in all sorts of patterns, trying to
make something out of them; just as when we at home have little tablets
of wood, with which we make patterns, and call them a 'Chinese puzzle.'
Kay's patterns were most ingenious, because they were the 'Ice Puzzles
of Reason.' In his eyes they were first-rate and of the greatest
importance: this was because of the grain of glass still in his eye. He
made many patterns forming words, but he never could find out the right
way to place them for one particular word, a word he was most anxious to
make. It was 'Eternity.' The Snow Queen had said to him that if he could
find out this word he should be his own master, and she would give him
the whole world and a new pair of skates. But he could not discover it.
'Now I am going to fly away to the warm countries,' said the Snow Queen.
'I want to go and peep into the black caldrons!' She meant the volcanoes
Etna and Vesuvius by this. 'I must whiten them a little; it does them
good, and the lemons and the grapes too!' And away she flew.
Kay sat quite alone in all those many miles of empty ice halls. He
looked at his bits of ice, and thought and thought, till something gave
way within him. He sat so stiff and immovable that one might have
thought he was frozen to death.
Then it was that little Gerda walked into the Palace, through the great
gates in a biting wind. She said her evening prayer, and the wind
dropped as if lulled to sleep, and she walked on into the big empty
hall. She saw Kay, and knew him at once; she flung her arms round his
neck, held him fast, and cried, 'Kay, little Kay, have I found you at
last?'
But he sat still, rigid and cold.
Then little Gerda shed hot tears; they fell upon his breast and
penetrated to his heart. Here they thawed the lump of ice, and melted
the little bit of the mirror which was in it. He looked at her, and she
sang:
'Where roses deck the flowery vale,
There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'
Then Kay burst into tears; he cried so much that the grain of glass
was washed out of his eye. He knew her, and shouted with joy, 'Gerda,
dear little Gerda! where have you been for such a long time? And where
have I been?' He looked round and said, 'How cold it is here; how empty
and vast!' He kept tight hold of Gerda, who laughed and cried for joy.
Their happiness was so heavenly that even the bits of ice danced for joy
around them; and when they settled down, there they lay! just in the
very position the Snow Queen had told Kay he must find out, if he was 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
shone like hers, she kissed his hands and his feet, and he became well
and strong. The Snow Queen might come home whenever she liked, his order
of release was written there in shining letters of ice.
They took hold of each other's hands and wandered out of the big Palace.
They talked about grandmother, and about the roses upon the roof.
Wherever they went the winds lay still and the sun broke through the
clouds. When they reached the bush with the red berries they found the
reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer
with him, whose udders were full. The children drank her warm milk and
kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda, first to the
Finn woman, in whose heated hut they warmed themselves and received
directions about the homeward journey. Then they went on to the Lapp
woman; she had made new clothes for them and prepared her sledge. Both
the reindeer ran by their side, to the boundaries of the country; here
the first green buds appeared, and they said 'Good-bye' to the reindeer
and the Lapp woman. They heard the first little birds twittering and saw
the buds in the forest. Out of it came riding a young girl on a
beautiful horse, which Gerda knew, for it had drawn the golden chariot.
She had a scarlet cap on her head and pistols in her belt; it was the
little robber girl, who was tired of being at home. She was riding
northwards to see how she liked it before she tried some other part of
the world. She knew them again, and Gerda recognised her with delight.
'You are a nice fellow to go tramping off!' she said to little Kay. 'I
should like to know if you deserve to have somebody running to the end
of the world for your sake!'
But Gerda patted her cheek, and asked about the Prince and Princess.
'They are travelling in foreign countries,' said the robber girl.
'But the crow?' asked Gerda.
'Oh, the crow is dead!' she answered. 'The tame sweetheart is a widow,
and goes about with a bit of black wool tied round her leg. She pities
herself bitterly, but it's all nonsense! But tell me how you got on
yourself, and where you found him.'
Gerda and Kay both told her all about it.
'Snip, snap, snurre, it's all right at last then!' she said, and she
took hold of their hands and promised that if she ever passed through
their town she would pay them a visit. Then she rode off into the wide
world. But Kay and Gerda walked on, hand in hand, and wherever they went
they found the most delightful spring and blooming flowers. Soon they
recognised the big town where they lived, with its tall towers, in which
the bells still rang their merry peals. They went straight on to
grandmother's door, up the stairs and into her room. Everything was just
as they had left it, and the old clock ticked in the corner, and the
hands pointed to the time. As they went through the door into the room
they perceived that they were grown up. The roses clustered round the
open window, and there stood their two little chairs. Kay and Gerda sat
down upon them, still holding each other by the hand. All the cold empty
grandeur of the Snow Queen's palace had passed from their memory like a
bad dream. Grandmother sat in God's warm sunshine reading from her
Bible.
'Without ye become as little children ye cannot enter into the Kingdom
of Heaven.'
Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and then all at once the
meaning of the old hymn came to them.
'Where roses deck the flowery vale,
There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'
And there they both sat, grown up and yet children, children at heart;
and it was summer--warm, beautiful summer.
THE NIGHTINGALE
[Illustration: _Among these trees lived a nightingale, which sang so
deliciously, that even the poor fisherman, who had plenty of other
things to do, lay still to listen to it, when he was out at night
drawing in his nets._]
In China, as you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all the people
around him are Chinamen too. It is many years since the story I am going
to tell you happened, but that is all the more reason for telling it,
lest it should be forgotten. The emperor's palace was the most beautiful
thing in the world; it was made entirely of the finest porcelain, very
costly, but at the same time so fragile that it could only be touched
with the very greatest care. There were the most extraordinary flowers
to be seen in the garden; the most beautiful ones had little silver
bells tied to them, which tinkled perpetually, so that one should not
pass the flowers without looking at them. Every little detail in the
garden had been most carefully thought out, and it was so big, that even
the gardener himself did not know where it ended. If one went on
walking, one came to beautiful woods with lofty trees and deep lakes.
The wood extended to the sea, which was deep and blue, deep enough for
large ships to sail up right under the branches of the trees. Among
these trees lived a nightingale, which sang so deliciously, that even
the poor fisherman, who had plenty of other things to do, lay still to
listen to it, when he was out at night drawing in his nets. 'Heavens,
how beautiful it is!' he said, but then he had to attend to his business
and forgot it. The next night when he heard it again he would again
exclaim, 'Heavens, how beautiful it is!'
Travellers came to the emperor's capital, from every country in the
world; they admired everything very much, especially the palace and the
gardens, but when they heard the nightingale they all said, 'This is
better than anything!'
When they got home they described it, and the learned ones wrote many
books about the town, the palace and the garden; but nobody forgot the
nightingale, it was always put above everything else. Those among them
who were poets wrote the most beautiful poems, all about the nightingale
in the woods by the deep blue sea. These books went all over the world,
and in course of time some of them reached the emperor. He sat in his
golden chair reading and reading, and nodding his head, well pleased to
hear such beautiful descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden.
'But the nightingale is the best of all,' he read.
'What is this?' said the emperor. 'The nightingale? Why, I know nothing
about it. Is there such a bird in my kingdom, and in my own garden into
the bargain, and I have never heard of it? Imagine my having to
discover this from a book?'
Then he called his gentleman-in-waiting, who was so grand that when any
one of a lower rank dared to speak to him, or to ask him a question, he
would only answer 'P,' which means nothing at all.
'There is said to be a very wonderful bird called a nightingale here,'
said the emperor. 'They say that it is better than anything else in all
my great kingdom! Why have I never been told anything about it?'
'I have never heard it mentioned,' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'It
has never been presented at court.'
'I wish it to appear here this evening to sing to me,' said the emperor.
'The whole world knows what I am possessed of, and I know nothing about
it!'
'I have never heard it mentioned before,' said the gentleman-in-waiting.
'I will seek it, and I will find it!' But where was it to be found? The
gentleman-in-waiting ran upstairs and downstairs and in and out of all
the rooms and corridors. No one of all those he met had ever heard
anything about the nightingale; so the gentleman-in-waiting ran back to
the emperor, and said that it must be a myth, invented by the writers of
the books. 'Your imperial majesty must not believe everything that is
written; books are often mere inventions, even if they do not belong to
what we call the black art!'
'But the book in which I read it is sent to me by the powerful Emperor
of Japan, so it can't be untrue. I will hear this nightingale; I insist
upon its being here to-night. I extend my most gracious protection to
it, and if it is not forthcoming, I will have the whole court trampled
upon after supper!'
'Tsing-pe!' said the gentleman-in-waiting, and away he ran again, up and
down all the stairs, in and out of all the rooms and corridors; half the
court ran with him, for they none of them wished to be trampled on.
There was much questioning about this nightingale, which was known to
all the outside world, but to no one at court. At last they found a poor
little maid in the kitchen. She said, 'Oh heavens, the nightingale? I
know it very well. Yes, indeed it can sing. Every evening I am allowed
to take broken meat to my poor sick mother: she lives down by the shore.
On my way back, when I am tired, I rest awhile in the wood, and then I
hear the nightingale. Its song brings the tears into my eyes; I feel as
if my mother were kissing me!'
'Little kitchen-maid,' said the gentleman-in-waiting, 'I will procure
you a permanent position in the kitchen, and permission to see the
emperor dining, if you will take us to the nightingale. It is commanded
to appear at court to-night.'
Then they all went out into the wood where the nightingale usually sang.
Half the court was there. As they were going along at their best pace a
cow began to bellow.
'Oh!' said a young courtier, 'there we have it. What wonderful power
for such a little creature; I have certainly heard it before.'
'No, those are the cows bellowing; we are a long way yet from the
place.' Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh.
'Beautiful!' said the Chinese chaplain, 'it is just like the tinkling of
church bells.'
'No, those are the frogs!' said the little kitchen-maid. 'But I think we
shall soon hear it now!'
Then the nightingale began to sing.
'There it is!' said the little girl. 'Listen, listen, there it sits!'
and she pointed to a little grey bird up among the branches.
'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I should never have
thought it was like that. How common it looks! Seeing so many grand
people must have frightened all its colours away.'
'Little nightingale!' called the kitchen-maid quite loud, 'our gracious
emperor wishes you to sing to him!'
'With the greatest of pleasure!' said the nightingale, warbling away in
the most delightful fashion.
'It is just like crystal bells,' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'Look at
its little throat, how active it is. It is extraordinary that we have
never heard it before! I am sure it will be a great success at court!'
'Shall I sing again to the emperor?' said the nightingale, who thought
he was present.
'My precious little nightingale,' said the gentleman-in-waiting, 'I have
the honour to command your attendance at a court festival to-night,
where you will charm his gracious majesty the emperor with your
fascinating singing.'
'It sounds best among the trees,' said the nightingale, but it went with
them willingly when it heard that the emperor wished it.
[Illustration: _'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I
should never have thought it was like that. How common it looks. Seeing
so many grand people must have frightened all its colours away.'_]