Andersen's Fairy Tales
“What are you crying for?” asked he. “You look so ugly! There's nothing
the matter with me. Ah,” said he at once, “that rose is cankered! And
look, this one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly!
They are just like the box they are planted in!” And then he gave the
box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up.
“What are you doing?” cried the little girl; and as he perceived her
fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened
off from dear little Gerda.
Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, “What horrid
beasts have you there?” And if his grandmother told them stories, he
always interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get
behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he
copied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able
to imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street. Everything
that was peculiar and displeasing in them--that Kay knew how to imitate:
and at such times all the people said, “The boy is certainly very
clever!” But it was the glass he had got in his eye; the glass that was
sticking in his heart, which made him tease even little Gerda, whose
whole soul was devoted to him.
His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they
were so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were
flying about, he spread the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow
as it fell.
“Look through this glass, Gerda,” said he. And every flake seemed
larger, and appeared like a magnificent flower, or beautiful star; it
was splendid to look at!
“Look, how clever!” said Kay. “That's much more interesting than real
flowers! They are as exact as possible; there is not a fault in them, if
they did not melt!”
It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on,
and his little sledge at his back, and bawled right into Gerda's ears,
“I have permission to go out into the square where the others are
playing”; and off he was in a moment.
There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie
their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled
along, and got a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the
very height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted
quite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white
mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove
round the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he
could, and off he drove with it. On they went quicker and quicker into
the next street; and the person who drove turned round to Kay, and
nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew each other.
Every time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to him,
and then Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside
the gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the
little boy could not see an arm's length before him, but still on he
went: when suddenly he let go the string he held in his hand in order
to get loose from the sledge, but it was of no use; still the little
vehicle rushed on with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud
as he could, but no one heard him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew
on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over hedges
and ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried to repeat the
Lord's Prayer; but all he could do, he was only able to remember the
multiplication table.
The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just
like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge
stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and
cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling
whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.
“We have travelled fast,” said she; “but it is freezingly cold. Come
under my bearskin.” And she put him in the sledge beside her,
wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a
snow-wreath.
“Are you still cold?” asked she; and then she kissed his forehead.
Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was
already almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to
die--but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not
remark the cold that was around him.
“My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!” It was the first thing he thought
of. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with
it on his back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once
more, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had
left at his home.
“Now you will have no more kisses,” said she, “or else I should kiss you
to death!”
Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more
lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer
appeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned
to him; in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and
told her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions, even;
that he knew the number of square miles there were in the different
countries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while
he spoke. It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough, and
he looked upwards in the large huge empty space above him, and on she
flew with him; flew high over the black clouds, while the storm moaned
and whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew
over woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them the
chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above
them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite
large and bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long long
winter's night; while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.
THIRD STORY. Of the Flower-Garden At the Old Woman's Who Understood
Witchcraft
But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he
be? Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew
was, that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid
one, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew
where he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and
bitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that he had been drowned in
the river which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long and
dismal winter evenings!
At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.
“Kay is dead and gone!” said little Gerda.
“That I don't believe,” said the Sunshine.
“Kay is dead and gone!” said she to the Swallows.
“That I don't believe,” said they: and at last little Gerda did not
think so any longer either.
“I'll put on my red shoes,” said she, one morning; “Kay has never seen
them, and then I'll go down to the river and ask there.”
It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother, who was still
asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the river.
“Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will make you a
present of my red shoes, if you will give him back to me.”
And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner;
then she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed,
and threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and
the little waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream
would not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not got
little Kay; but Gerda thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far
enough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went
to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat was not
fastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it drift from the
shore. She observed this, and hastened to get back; but before she could
do so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding
quickly onward.
Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her
except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew
along the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, “Here we are! Here we
are!” The boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still
without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not
reach them, because the boat went much faster than they did.
The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees,
and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.
“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” said she; and then
she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful
green banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was
a little cottage with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched,
and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when
anyone went past.
Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of
course, did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted
the boat quite near the land.
Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the
cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat
on, painted with the most splendid flowers.
“Poor little child!” said the old woman. “How did you get upon the large
rapid river, to be driven about so in the wide world!” And then the
old woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked
stick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.
And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid
of the strange old woman.
“But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here,” said she.
And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said,
“A-hem! a-hem!” and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if
she had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed
there, but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down,
but taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than
any in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then
took Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the
door.
The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and
the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On
the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as
she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the
old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and
shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which
was so round and so like a rose.
“I have often longed for such a dear little girl,” said the old woman.
“Now you shall see how well we agree together”; and while she combed
little Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and
more, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she
only practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and
now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out
in the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes,
which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no
one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda
should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember
little Kay, and run away from her.
She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what
loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every
season, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or
more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind
the tall cherry-tree; she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken