But how fared little Gerda in Kay's absence?
What had become of him no one knew, nor could any one give the slightest
information, excepting the boys, who said that he had tied his sledge to
another very large one, which had driven through the street and out at
the town gate. No one knew where it went. Many tears were shed for him,
and little Gerda wept bitterly for a long time. She said she knew he
must be dead, that he was drowned in the river which flowed close by
the school. The long winter days were very dreary. But at last spring
came with warm sunshine.
"Kay is dead and gone," said little Gerda.
"I don't believe it," said the sunshine.
"He is dead and gone," she said to the sparrows.
"We don't believe it," they replied, and at last little Gerda began to
doubt it herself.
"I will put on my new red shoes," she said one morning, "those that Kay
has never seen, and then I will go down to the river and ask for him."
It was quite early when she kissed her old grandmother, who was still
asleep; then she put on her red shoes and went, quite alone, out of the
town gate, toward the river.
"Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me?" she
said to the river. "I will give you my red shoes if you will give him
back to me."
And it seemed as if the waves nodded to her in a strange manner. Then
she took off her red shoes, which she liked better than anything else,
and threw them both into the river, but they fell near the bank, and
the little waves carried them back to land just as if the river would
not take from her what she loved best, because it could not give her
back little Kay.
But she thought the shoes had not been thrown out far enough. Then she
crept into a boat that lay among the reeds, and threw the shoes again
from the farther end of the boat into the water; but it was not
fastened, and her movement sent it gliding away from the land. When she
saw this she hastened to reach the end of the boat, but before she could
do so it was more than a yard from the bank and drifting away faster
than ever.
Little Gerda was very much frightened. She began to cry, but no one
heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land, but
they flew along by the shore and sang as if to comfort her: "Here we
are! Here we are!"
The boat floated with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite still with
only her stockings on her feet; the red shoes floated after her, but she
could not reach them because the boat kept so much in advance.
[Illustration: There came a very old woman out of the house]
The banks on either side of the river were very pretty. There were
beautiful flowers, old trees, sloping fields in which cows and sheep
were grazing, but not a human being to be seen.
"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay," thought Gerda, and then
she became more cheerful, and raised her head and looked at the
beautiful green banks; and so the boat sailed on for hours. At length
she came to a large cherry orchard, in which stood a small house with
strange red and blue windows. It had also a thatched roof, and outside
were two wooden soldiers that presented arms to her as she sailed past.
Gerda called out to them, for she thought they were alive; but of course
they did not answer, and as the boat drifted nearer to the shore she saw
what they really were.
Then Gerda called still louder, and there came a very old woman out of
the house, leaning on a crutch. She wore a large hat to shade her from
the sun, and on it were painted all sorts of pretty flowers.
"You poor little child," said the old woman, "how did you manage to come
this long, long distance into the wide world on such a rapid, rolling
stream?" And then the old woman walked into the water, seized the boat
with her crutch, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda
was glad to feel herself again on dry ground, although she was rather
afraid of the strange old woman.
"Come and tell me who you are," said she, "and how you came here."
Then Gerda told her everything, while the old woman shook her head and
said, "Hem-hem"; and when Gerda had finished she asked the old woman if
she had not seen little Kay. She told her he had not passed that way,
but he very likely would come. She told Gerda not to be sorrowful, but
to taste the cherries and look at the flowers; they were better than any
picture book, for each of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda
by the hand, and led her into the little house, and closed the door. The
windows were very high, and as the panes were red, blue, and yellow, the
daylight shone through them in all sorts of singular colors. On the
table stood some beautiful cherries, and Gerda had permission to eat as
many as she would. While she was eating them the old woman combed out
her long flaxen ringlets with a golden comb, and the glossy curls hung
down on each side of the little round, pleasant face, which looked fresh
and blooming as a rose.
"I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you," said the
old woman, "and now you must stay with me and see how happily we shall
live together." And while she went on combing little Gerda's hair the
child thought less and less about her adopted brother Kay, for the old
woman was an enchantress, although she was not a wicked witch; she
conjured only a little for her own amusement, and, now, because she
wanted to keep Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden and stretched
out her crutch toward all the rose trees, beautiful though they were,
and they immediately sank into the dark earth, so that no one could tell
where they had once stood. The old woman was afraid that if little Gerda
saw roses, she would think of those at home and then remember little Kay
and run away.
Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. How fragrant and beautiful
it was! Every flower that could be thought of, for every season of the
year, was here in full bloom; no picture book could have more beautiful
colors. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun went down behind
the tall cherry trees; then she slept in an elegant bed, with red silk
pillows embroidered with colored violets, and she dreamed as pleasantly
as a queen on her wedding day.
The next day, and for many days after, Gerda played with the flowers in
the warm sunshine. She knew every flower, and yet, although there were
so many of them, it seemed as if one were missing, but what it was she
could not tell. One day, however, as she sat looking at the old woman's
hat with the painted flowers on it, she saw that the prettiest of them
all was a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when
she made all the roses sink into the earth. But it is difficult to keep
the thoughts together in everything, and one little mistake upsets all
our arrangements.
"What! are there no roses here?" cried Gerda, and she ran out into the
garden and examined all the beds, and searched and searched. There was
not one to be found. Then she sat down and wept, and her tears fell just
on the place where one of the rose trees had sunk down. The warm tears
moistened the earth, and the rose tree sprouted up at once, as blooming
as when it had sunk; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the roses, and
thought of the beautiful roses at home, and, with them, of little Kay.
"Oh, how I have been detained!" said the little maiden. "I wanted to
seek for little Kay. Do you know where he is?" she asked the roses; "do
you think he is dead?"
And the roses answered: "No, he is not dead. We have been in the ground,
where all the dead lie, but Kay is not there."
"Thank you," said little Gerda, and then she went to the other flowers
and looked into their little cups and asked, "Do you know where little
Kay is?" But each flower as it stood in the sunshine dreamed only of its
own little fairy tale or history. Not one knew anything of Kay. Gerda
heard many stories from the flowers, as she asked them one after another
about him.
And then she ran to the other end of the garden. The door was fastened,
but she pressed against the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door
sprang open, and little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide
world. She looked back three times, but no one seemed to be following
her. At last she could run no longer, so she sat down to rest on a great
stone, and when she looked around she saw that the summer was over and
autumn very far advanced. She had known nothing of this in the beautiful
garden where the sun shone and the flowers grew all the year round.
"Oh, how I have wasted my time!" said little Gerda. "It is autumn; I
must not rest any longer," and she rose to go on. But her little feet
were wounded and sore, and everything around her looked cold and bleak.
The long willow leaves were quite yellow, the dewdrops fell like water,
leaf after leaf dropped from the trees; the sloe thorn alone still bore
fruit, but the sloes were sour and set the teeth on edge. Oh, how dark
and weary the whole world appeared!