Andersen's Fairy Tales
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!
THE LEAP-FROG
A Flea, a Grasshopper, and a Leap-frog once wanted to see which could
jump highest; and they invited the whole world, and everybody else
besides who chose to come to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were
they, as everyone would say, when they all met together in the room.
“I will give my daughter to him who jumps highest,” exclaimed the King;
“for it is not so amusing where there is no prize to jump for.”
The Flea was the first to step forward. He had exquisite manners, and
bowed to the company on all sides; for he had noble blood, and was,
moreover, accustomed to the society of man alone; and that makes a great
difference.
Then came the Grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, but he was
well-mannered, and wore a green uniform, which he had by right of birth;
he said, moreover, that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family,
and that in the house where he then was, he was thought much of. The
fact was, he had been just brought out of the fields, and put in a
pasteboard house, three stories high, all made of court-cards, with the
colored side inwards; and doors and windows cut out of the body of
the Queen of Hearts. “I sing so well,” said he, “that sixteen native
grasshoppers who have chirped from infancy, and yet got no house built
of cards to live in, grew thinner than they were before for sheer
vexation when they heard me.”
It was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an account of
themselves, and thought they were quite good enough to marry a Princess.
The Leap-frog said nothing; but people gave it as their opinion, that
he therefore thought the more; and when the housedog snuffed at him
with his nose, he confessed the Leap-frog was of good family. The old
councillor, who had had three orders given him to make him hold his
tongue, asserted that the Leap-frog was a prophet; for that one could
see on his back, if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that
was what one could not see even on the back of the man who writes the
almanac.
“I say nothing, it is true,” exclaimed the King; “but I have my own
opinion, notwithstanding.”
Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high that nobody
could see where he went to; so they all asserted he had not jumped at
all; and that was dishonorable.
The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's
face, who said that was ill-mannered.
The Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought; it was
believed at last he would not jump at all.
“I only hope he is not unwell,” said the house-dog; when, pop! he made a
jump all on one side into the lap of the Princess, who was sitting on a
little golden stool close by.
Hereupon the King said, “There is nothing above my daughter; therefore
to bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made; but for this,
one must possess understanding, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has
understanding. He is brave and intellectual.”
And so he won the Princess.
“It's all the same to me,” said the Flea. “She may have the old
Leap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the highest; but in this world