he 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 hindlegs 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!
he 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 hindlegs 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.
