No More Learning

They all
stood in circles round the princess, and the nearer they stood to
the door, the prouder they looked. The servants' pages, who always
wore slippers, could hardly be looked at, they held themselves up so
proudly by the door. "

"It must be quite awful," said little Gerda, "but did Kay win
the princess? "

"If I had not been a crow," said he, "I would have married her
myself, although I am engaged. He spoke just as well as I do, when I
speak the crows' language, so I heard from my tame sweetheart. He
was quite free and agreeable and said he had not come to woo the
princess, but to hear her wisdom; and he was as pleased with her as
she was with him. "

"Oh, certainly that was Kay," said Gerda, "he was so clever; he
could work mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh, will you take me to
the palace? "

"It is very easy to ask that," replied the crow, "but how are we
to manage it? However, I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart,
and ask her advice; for I must tell you it will be very difficult to
gain permission for a little girl like you to enter the palace. "

"Oh, yes; but I shall gain permission easily," said Gerda, "for
when Kay hears that I am here, he will come out and fetch me in
immediately. "

"Wait for me here by the palings," said the crow, wagging his head
as he flew away.

It was late in the evening before the crow returned. "Caw, caw,"
he said, "she sends you greeting, and here is a little roll which she
took from the kitchen for you; there is plenty of bread there, and she
thinks you must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the
palace by the front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the
servants in gold livery would not allow it. But do not cry, we will
manage to get you in; my sweetheart knows a little back-staircase that
leads to the sleeping apartments, and she knows where to find the
key. "

Then they went into the garden through the great avenue, where the
leaves were falling one after another, and they could see the light in
the palace being put out in the same manner. And the crow led little
Gerda to the back door, which stood ajar. Oh! how little Gerda's heart
beat with anxiety and longing; it was just as if she were going to
do something wrong, and yet she only wanted to know where little Kay
was. "It must be he," she thought, "with those clear eyes, and that
long hair. " She could fancy she saw him smiling at her, as he used
to at home, when they sat among the roses. He would certainly be
glad to see her, and to hear what a long distance she had come for his
sake, and to know how sorry they had been at home because he did not
come back. Oh what joy and yet fear she felt! They were now on the
stairs, and in a small closet at the top a lamp was burning. In the
middle of the floor stood the tame crow, turning her head from side to
side, and gazing at Gerda, who curtseyed as her grandmother had taught
her to do.

"My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you, my little lady,"
said the tame crow, "your life-history, Vita, as it may be called,
is very touching. If you will take the lamp I will walk before you. We
will go straight along this way, then we shall meet no one. "

"It seems to me as if somebody were behind us," said Gerda, as
something rushed by her like a shadow on the wall, and then horses
with flying manes and thin legs, hunters, ladies and gentlemen on
horseback, glided by her, like shadows on the wall.

"They are only dreams," said the crow, "they are coming to fetch
the thoughts of the great people out hunting. "

"All the better, for we shall be able to look at them in their
beds more safely. I hope that when you rise to honor and favor, you
will show a grateful heart. "

"You may be quite sure of that," said the crow from the forest.

They now came into the first hall, the walls of which were hung
with rose-colored satin, embroidered with artificial flowers. Here the
dreams again flitted by them but so quickly that Gerda could not
distinguish the royal persons. Each hall appeared more splendid than
the last, it was enought to bewilder any one. At length they reached a
bedroom. The ceiling was like a great palm-tree, with glass leaves
of the most costly crystal, and over the centre of the floor two beds,
each resembling a lily, hung from a stem of gold. One, in which the
princess lay, was white, the other was red; and in this Gerda had to
seek for little Kay. She pushed one of the red leaves aside, and saw a
little brown neck. Oh, that must be Kay! She called his name out quite
loud, and held the lamp over him. The dreams rushed back into the room
on horseback. He woke, and turned his head round, it was not little
Kay! The prince was only like him in the neck, still he was young
and pretty. Then the princess peeped out of her white-lily bed, and
asked what was the matter. Then little Gerda wept and told her
story, and all that the crows had done to help her.

"You poor child," said the prince and princess; then they
praised the crows, and said they were not angry for what they had
done, but that it must not happen again, and this time they should
be rewarded.

"Would you like to have your freedom? " asked the princess, "or
would you prefer to be raised to the position of court crows, with all
that is left in the kitchen for yourselves? "

Then both the crows bowed, and begged to have a fixed appointment,
for they thought of their old age, and said it would be so comfortable
to feel that they had provision for their old days, as they called it.
And then the prince got out of his bed, and gave it up to Gerda,--he
could do no more; and she lay down. She folded her little hands, and
thought, "How good everyone is to me, men and animals too;" then she
closed her eyes and fell into a sweet sleep. All the dreams came
flying back again to her, and they looked like angels, and one of them
drew a little sledge, on which sat Kay, and nodded to her. But all
this was only a dream, and vanished as soon as she awoke.

The following day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and
velvet, and they invited her to stay at the palace for a few days, and
enjoy herself, but she only begged for a pair of boots, and a little
carriage, and a horse to draw it, so that she might go into the wide
world to seek for Kay. And she obtained, not only boots, but also a
muff, and she was neatly dressed; and when she was ready to go, there,
at the door, she found a coach made of pure gold, with the
coat-of-arms of the prince and princess shining upon it like a star,
and the coachman, footman, and outriders all wearing golden crowns
on their heads. The prince and princess themselves helped her into the
coach, and wished her success. The forest crow, who was now married,
accompanied her for the first three miles; he sat by Gerda's side,
as he could not bear riding backwards. The tame crow stood in the
door-way flapping her wings. She could not go with them, because she
had been suffering from headache ever since the new appointment, no
doubt from eating too much. The coach was well stored with sweet
cakes, and under the seat were fruit and gingerbread nuts.
"Farewell, farewell," cried the prince and princess, and little
Gerda wept, and the crow wept; and then, after a few miles, the crow
also said "Farewell," and this was the saddest parting. However, he
flew to a tree, and stood flapping his black wings as long as he could
see the coach, which glittered in the bright sunshine.


FIFTH STORY

LITTLE ROBBER-GIRL


The coach drove on through a thick forest, where it lighted up the
way like a torch, and dazzled the eyes of some robbers, who could
not bear to let it pass them unmolested.

"It is gold! it is gold! " cried they, rushing forward, and seizing
the horses. Then they struck the little jockeys, the coachman, and the
footman dead, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.

"She is fat and pretty, and she has been fed with the kernels of
nuts," said the old robber-woman, who had a long beard and eyebrows
that hung over her eyes. "She is as good as a little lamb; how nice
she will taste! " and as she said this, she drew forth a shining knife,
that glittered horribly. "Oh! " screamed the old woman the same moment;
for her own daughter, who held her back, had bitten her in the ear.
She was a wild and naughty girl, and the mother called her an ugly
thing, and had not time to kill Gerda.

"She shall play with me," said the little robber-girl; "she
shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my
bed. " And then she bit her mother again, and made her spring in the
air, and jump about; and all the robbers laughed, and said, "See how
she is dancing with her young cub. "

"I will have a ride in the coach," said the little robber-girl;
and she would have her own way; for she was so self-willed and
obstinate.

She and Gerda seated themselves in the coach, and drove away, over
stumps and stones, into the depths of the forest. The little
robber-girl was about the same size as Gerda, but stronger; she had
broader shoulders and a darker skin; her eyes were quite black, and
she had a mournful look. She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and
said,--

"They shall not kill you as long as you don't make us vexed with
you. I suppose you are a princess. "

"No," said Gerda; and then she told her all her history, and how
fond she was of little Kay.

The robber-girl looked earnestly at her, nodded her head slightly,
and said, "They sha'nt kill you, even if I do get angry with you;
for I will do it myself. " And then she wiped Gerda's eyes, and stuck
her own hands in the beautiful muff which was so soft and warm.

The coach stopped in the courtyard of a robber's castle, the walls
of which were cracked from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew in and
out of the holes and crevices, while great bulldogs, either of which
looked as if it could swallow a man, were jumping about; but they were
not allowed to bark. In the large and smoky hall a bright fire was
burning on the stone floor. There was no chimney; so the smoke went up
to the ceiling, and found a way out for itself. Soup was boiling in
a large cauldron, and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.

"You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night," said
the robber-girl, after they had had something to eat and drink. So she
took Gerda to a corner of the hall, where some straw and carpets
were laid down. Above them, on laths and perches, were more than a
hundred pigeons, who all seemed to be asleep, although they moved
slightly when the two little girls came near them. "These all belong
to me," said the robber-girl; and she seized the nearest to her,
held it by the feet, and shook it till it flapped its wings. "Kiss
it," cried she, flapping it in Gerda's face. "There sit the
wood-pigeons," continued she, pointing to a number of laths and a cage
which had been fixed into the walls, near one of the openings. "Both
rascals would fly away directly, if they were not closely locked up.
And here is my old sweetheart 'Ba;'" and she dragged out a reindeer
by the horn; he wore a bright copper ring round his neck, and was tied
up. "We are obliged to hold him tight too, or else he would run away
from us also. I tickle his neck every evening with my sharp knife,
which frightens him very much. " And then the robber-girl drew a long
knife from a chink in the wall, and let it slide gently over the
reindeer's neck. The poor animal began to kick, and the little
robber-girl laughed, and pulled down Gerda into bed with her.

"Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep? " asked
Gerda, looking at it in great fright.

"I always sleep with the knife by me," said the robber-girl. "No
one knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay,
and why you went out into the world. "

Then Gerda repeated her story over again, while the wood-pigeons
in the cage over her cooed, and the other pigeons slept. The little
robber-girl put one arm across Gerda's neck, and held the knife in the
other, and was soon fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close
her eyes at all; she knew not whether she was to live or die. The
robbers sat round the fire, singing and drinking, and the old woman
stumbled about. It was a terrible sight for a little girl to witness.

Then the wood-pigeons said, "Coo, coo; we have seen little Kay.
A white fowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the
Snow Queen, which drove through the wood while we were lying in our
nest. She blew upon us, and all the young ones died excepting us
two. Coo, coo. "

"What are you saying up there? " cried Gerda. "Where was the Snow
Queen going? Do you know anything about it? "

"She was most likely travelling to Lapland, where there is
always snow and ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a
rope. "

"Yes, there is always snow and ice," said the reindeer; "and it is
a glorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling
ice plains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her strong
castle is at the North Pole, on an island called Spitzbergen. "

"Oh, Kay, little Kay! " sighed Gerda.

"Lie still," said the robber-girl, "or I shall run my knife into
your body. "

In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood-pigeons had
said; and the little robber-girl looked quite serious, and nodded
her head, and said, "That is all talk, that is all talk. Do you know
where Lapland is? " she asked the reindeer.

"Who should know better than I do? " said the animal, while his
eyes sparkled. "I was born and brought up there, and used to run about
the snow-covered plains. "

"Now listen," said the robber-girl; "all our men are gone away,--only
mother is here, and here she will stay; but at noon she always
drinks out of a great bottle, and afterwards sleeps for a little
while; and then, I'll do something for you. " Then she jumped out of
bed, clasped her mother round the neck, and pulled her by the beard,
crying, "My own little nanny goat, good morning. " Then her mother
filliped her nose till it was quite red; yet she did it all for love.

When the mother had drunk out of the bottle, and was gone to
sleep, the little robber-maiden went to the reindeer, and said, "I
should like very much to tickle your neck a few times more with my
knife, for it makes you look so funny; but never mind,--I will untie
your cord, and set you free, so that you may run away to Lapland;
but you must make good use of your legs, and carry this little
maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her play-fellow is.
You have heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you
were listening. "

Then the reindeer jumped for joy; and the little robber-girl
lifted Gerda on his back, and had the forethought to tie her on, and
even to give her her own little cushion to sit on.

"Here are your fur boots for you," said she; "for it will be
very cold; but I must keep the muff; it is so pretty. However, you
shall not be frozen for the want of it; here are my mother's large
warm mittens; they will reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on.
There, now your hands look just like my mother's. "

But Gerda wept for joy.

"I don't like to see you fret," said the little robber-girl;
"you ought to look quite happy now; and here are two loaves and a ham,
so that you need not starve. " These were fastened on the reindeer, and
then the little robber-maiden opened the door, coaxed in all the great
dogs, and then cut the string with which the reindeer was fastened,
with her sharp knife, and said, "Now run, but mind you take good
care of the little girl. " And then Gerda stretched out her hand,
with the great mitten on it, towards the little robber-girl, and said,
"Farewell," and away flew the reindeer, over stumps and stones,
through the great forest, over marshes and plains, as quickly as he
could. The wolves howled, and the ravens screamed; while up in the sky
quivered red lights like flames of fire. "There are my old northern
lights," said the reindeer; "see how they flash. " And he ran on day
and night still faster and faster, but the loaves and the ham were all
eaten by the time they reached Lapland.


SIXTH STORY

THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN


They stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking; the roof
sloped nearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the
family had to creep in on their hands and knees, when they went in and
out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman, who was
cooking fish by the light of a train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her
all about Gerda's story, after having first told his own, which seemed
to him the most important, but Gerda was so pinched with the cold that
she could not speak. "Oh, you poor things," said the Lapland woman,
"you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred
miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she
burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried
stock-fish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the
Finland woman who lives there; she can give you better information
than I can. " So when Gerda was warmed, and had taken something to
eat and drink, the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish, and told
Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the
reindeer, and he set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went the
beautiful blue northern lights in the air the whole night long. And at
length they reached Finland, and knocked at the chimney of the Finland
woman's hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in, but
it was so terribly hot inside that that woman wore scarcely any
clothes; she was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little
Gerda's dress, and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda
would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece
of ice on the reindeer's head, and read what was written on the
dried fish. After she had read it three times, she knew it by heart,
so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good
to eat, and she never wasted anything. The reindeer told his own story
first, and then little Gerda's, and the Finlander twinkled with her
clever eyes, but she said nothing. "You are so clever," said the
reindeer; "I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a
piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind;
when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and
fourth are loosened, then comes a storm, which will root up whole
forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will
make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen? "

"The Power of twelve men! " said the Finland woman; "that would
be of very little use. " But she went to a shelf and took down and
unrolled a large skin, on which were inscribed wonderful characters,
and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead. But the
reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the
Finland woman with such beseeching tearful eyes, that her own eyes
began to twinkle again; so she drew the reindeer into a corner, and
whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head,
"Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything
there so much to his taste and his liking, that he believes it is
the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of
broken glass in his heart, and a little piece of glass in his eye.
These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again,
and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him. "

"But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to
conquer this power? "

"I can give her no greater power than she has already," said the
woman; "don't you see how strong that is? How men and animals are
obliged to serve her, and how well she has got through the world,
barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater
than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of
heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen, and
remove the glass fragments from little Kay, we can do nothing to
help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins; you
can carry the little girl so far, and set her down by the large bush
which stands in the snow, covered with red berries. Do not stay
gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you can. " Then the Finland
woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and he ran away with
her as quickly as he could.

"Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens," cried little
Gerda, as soon as she felt the cutting cold, but the reindeer dared
not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red
berries; here he set Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great
bright tears trickled over the animal's cheeks; then he left her and
ran back as fast as he could.

There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the
midst of cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forwards as
quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snow-flakes came
round her; they did not, however, fall from the sky, which was quite
clear and glittering with the northern lights. The snow-flakes ran
along the ground, and the nearer they came to her, the larger they
appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through
the burning-glass. But these were really larger, and much more
terrible, for they were alive, and were the guards of the Snow
Queen, and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great
porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching
out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled;
but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snow-flakes. Then
little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great
that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam
as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase, as she
continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels who grew
larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on
their heads, and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to
increase more and more; and by the time Gerda had finished her
prayers, a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into
the terrible snow-flakes, so that they shivered into a hundred pieces,
and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The
angels stroked her hands and feet, so that she felt the cold less, and
she hastened on to the Snow Queen's castle.

But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not
of little Gerda, and never supposed she could be standing in the front
of the palace.


SEVENTH STORY

OF THE PALACE OF THE SNOW QUEEN AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST


The walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the
windows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred
rooms in it, all as if they had been formed with snow blown
together.
The largest of them extended for several miles; they were
all lighted up by the vivid light of the aurora, and they were so
large and empty, so icy cold and glittering! There were no
amusements here, not even a little bear's ball, when the storm might
have been the music, and the bears could have danced on their hind
legs, and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of
snap-dragon, or touch, or even a gossip over the tea-table, for the
young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow
Queen. The flickering flame of the northern lights could be plainly
seen, whether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of
the castle. In the midst of its empty, endless hall of snow was a
frozen lake, broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece
resembled another, from being in itself perfect as a work of art,
and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen, when she was at
home. She called the lake "The Mirror of Reason," and said that it was
the best, and indeed the only one in the world.

Little Kay was quite blue with cold, indeed almost black, but he
did not feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy
shiverings, and his heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some
sharp, flat pieces of ice to and fro, and placed them together in
all kinds of positions, as if he wished to make something out of them;
just as we try to form various figures with little tablets of wood
which we call "a Chinese puzzle. " Kay's fingers were very artistic; it
was the icy game of reason at which he played, and in his eyes the
figures were very remarkable, and of the highest importance; this
opinion was owing to the piece of glass still sticking in his eye.
He composed many complete figures, forming different words, but
there was one word he never could manage to form, although he wished
it very much. It was the word "Eternity. " The Snow Queen had said to
him, "When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and
I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates. " But he
could not accomplish it.

"Now I must hasten away to warmer countries," said the Snow Queen.
"I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the
burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called,--I shall
make them look white, which will be good for them, and for the
lemons and the grapes. " And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little
Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length;
so he sat and looked at his pieces of ice, and was thinking so deeply,
and sat so still, that any one might have supposed he was frozen.

Just at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the
great door of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her, but
she offered up a prayer and the winds sank down as if they were
going to sleep; and she went on till she came to the large empty hall,
and caught sight of Kay; she knew him directly; she flew to him and
threw her arms round his neck, and held him fast, while she exclaimed,
"Kay, dear little Kay, I have found you at last. "

But he sat quite still, stiff and cold.

Then little Gerda wept hot tears, which fell on his breast, and
penetrated into his heart, and thawed the lump of ice, and washed away
the little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at
her, and she sang--

"Roses bloom and cease to be,
But we shall the Christ-child see. "


Then Kay burst into tears, and he wept so that the splinter of
glass swam out of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda, and said,
joyfully, "Gerda, dear little Gerda, where have you been all this
time, and where have I been? " And he looked all around him, and
said, "How cold it is, and how large and empty it all looks," and he
clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so pleasing
to see them that the pieces of ice even danced about; and when they
were tired and went to lie down, they formed themselves into the
letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out
before he could be his own master, and have the whole world and a pair
of new skates. Then Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming;
and she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his
hands and his feet, and then he became quite healthy and cheerful. The
Snow Queen might come home now when she pleased, for there stood his
certainty of freedom, in the word she wanted, written in shining
letters of ice.

Then they took each other by the hand, and went forth from the
great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother, and of the roses
on the roof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun
burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there
stood the reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another
young reindeer with him, whose udders were full, and the children
drank her warm milk and kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay
and Gerda first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves
thoroughly in the hot room, and she gave them directions about their
journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who had made some
new clothes for them, and put their sleighs in order. Both the
reindeer ran by their side, and followed them as far as the boundaries
of the country, where the first green leaves were budding. And here
they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all
said--Farewell. Then the birds began to twitter, and the forest too
was full of green young leaves; and out of it came a beautiful
horse, which Gerda remembered, for it was one which had drawn the
golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it, with a shining red
cap on her head, and pistols in her belt. It was the little
robber-maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she was going
first to the north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to try
some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly, and Gerda
remembered her: it was a joyful meeting.

"You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way," said
she to little Kay, "I should like to know whether you deserve that any
one should go to the end of the world to find you. "

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the prince and
princess.

"They are gone to foreign countries," said the robber-girl.

"And the crow? " asked Gerda.

"Oh, the crow is dead," she replied; "his tame sweetheart is now a
widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very
pitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get
him back. "

Then Gerda and Kay told her all about it.

"Snip, snap, snare! it's all right at last," said the robber-girl.

Then she took both their hands, and promised that if ever she
should pass through the town, she would call and pay them a visit. And
then she rode away into the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went
hand-in-hand towards home; and as they advanced, spring appeared
more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful flowers. Very
soon they recognized the large town where they lived, and the tall
steeples of the churches, in which the sweet bells were ringing a
merry peal as they entered it, and found their way to their
grandmother's door. They went upstairs into the little room, where all
looked just as it used to do. The old clock was going "tick, tick,"
and the hands pointed to the time of day, but as they passed through
the door into the room they perceived that they were both grown up,
and become a man and woman. The roses out on the roof were in full
bloom, and peeped in at the window; and there stood the little chairs,
on which they had sat when children; and Kay and Gerda seated
themselves each on their own chair, and held each other by the hand,
while the cold empty grandeur of the Snow Queen's palace vanished from
their memories like a painful dream. The grandmother sat in God's
bright sunshine, and she read aloud from the Bible, "Except ye
become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the
kingdom of God. " And Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes,
and all at once understood the words of the old song,

"Roses bloom and cease to be,
But we shall the Christ-child see. "

And they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart; and it was
summer,--warm, beautiful summer.




THE SNOWDROP

It was winter-time; the air was cold, the wind was sharp, but
within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable, and within the
closed door lay the flower; it lay in the bulb under the
snow-covered earth.

One day rain fell. The drops penetrated through the snowy covering
down into the earth, and touched the flower-bulb, and talked of the
bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the
snow to the root, and within the root there was a stirring.

"Come in," said the flower.

"I cannot," said the Sunbeam. "I am not strong enough to unlock
the door! When the summer comes I shall be strong! "

"When will it be summer? " asked the Flower, and she repeated
this question each time a new sunbeam made its way down to her. But
the summer was yet far distant. The snow still lay upon the ground,
and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.

"What a long time it takes! what a long time it takes! " said the
Flower. "I feel a stirring and striving within me; I must stretch
myself, I must unlock the door, I must get out, and must nod a good
morning to the summer, and what a happy time that will be! "

And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind
which the water had softened from without, and the snow and the
earth had warmed, and the Sunbeam had knocked at; and it shot forth
under the snow with a greenish-white blossom on a green stalk, with
narrow thick leaves, which seemed to want to protect it. The snow
was cold, but was pierced by the Sunbeam, therefore it was easy to get
through it, and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than
before.

"Welcome, welcome! " sang and sounded every ray, and the Flower
lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams
caressed and kissed it, so that it opened altogether, white as snow,
and ornamented with green stripes. It bent its head in joy and
humility.

"Beautiful Flower! " said the Sunbeams, "how graceful and
delicate you are! You are the first, you are the only one! You are our
love! You are the bell that rings out for summer, beautiful summer,
over country and town. All the snow will melt; the cold winds will
be driven away; we shall rule; all will become green, and then you
will have companions, syringas, laburnums, and roses; but you are
the first, so graceful, so delicate! "

That was a great pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing
and sounding, as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and
the stalks of the Flower. There it stood, so delicate and so easily
broken, and yet so strong in its young beauty; it stood there in its
white dress with the green stripes, and made a summer. But there was a
long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun, and bleak
winds were blowing.

"You have come too early," said Wind and Weather. "We have still
the power, and you shall feel it, and give it up to us. You should
have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display
of yourself. Your time is not come yet! "

It was a cutting cold! The days which now come brought not a
single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower
in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself
knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would
be sure to come, which had been announced by her deep longing and
confirmed by the warm sunlight; and so she remained standing in
confidence in the snow in her white garment, bending her head even
while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy, and the icy winds swept
over her.

"You'll break! " they said, "and fade, and fade! What did you
want out here? Why did you let yourself be tempted? The Sunbeam only
made game of you. Now you have what you deserve, you summer gauk. "

"Summer gauk! " she repeated in the cold morning hour.

"O summer gauk! " cried some children rejoicingly; "yonder stands
one--how beautiful, how beautiful! The first one, the only one! "

These words did the Flower so much good, they seemed to her like
warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was
broken off. It lay in a child's hand, and was kissed by a child's
mouth, and carried into a warm room, and looked on by gentle eyes, and
put into water. How strengthening, how invigorating! The Flower
thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.

The daughter of the house, a beautiful little girl, was confirmed,
and she had a friend who was confirmed, too. He was studying for an
examination for an appointment. "He shall be my summer gauk," she
said; and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of
scented paper, on which verses were written, beginning with summer
gauk and ending with summer gauk. "My friend, be a winter gauk. " She
had twitted him with the summer. Yes, all this was in the verses,
and the paper was folded up like a letter, and the Flower was folded
in the letter, too. It was dark around her, dark as in those days when
she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey,
and lay in the post-bag, and was pressed and crushed, which was not at
all pleasant; but that soon came to an end.

The journey was over; the letter was opened, and read by the
dear friend. How pleased he was! He kissed the letter, and it was
laid, with its enclosure of verses, in a box, in which there were many
beautiful verses, but all of them without flowers; she was the
first, the only one, as the Sunbeams had called her; and it was a
pleasant thing to think of that.

She had time enough, moreover, to think about it; she thought of
it while the summer passed away, and the long winter went by, and
the summer came again, before she appeared once more. But now the
young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very
roughly, and threw the verses away, so that the Flower fell on the
ground. Flat and faded she certainly was, but why should she be thrown
on the ground? Still, it was better to be here than in the fire, where
the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened?
What happens so often:--the Flower had made a gauk of him, that was
a jest; the girl had made a fool of him, that was no jest, she had,
during the summer, chosen another friend.

Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened
Snowdrop, that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The
servant girl, who was sweeping out the room, picked it up, and laid it
in one of the books which were upon the table, in the belief that it
must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the
flower lay among verses--printed verses--and they are better than
written ones--at least, more money has been spent upon them.

And after this years went by. The book stood upon the
book-shelf, and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It
was a good book; verses and songs by the old Danish poet, Ambrosius
Stub, which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the
book turned over a page.

"Why, there's a flower! " he said; "a snowdrop, a summer gauk, a
poet gauk! That flower must have been put in there with a meaning!
Poor Ambrosius Stub! he was a summer fool too, a poet fool; he came
too early, before his time, and therefore he had to taste the sharp
winds, and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to
another, like a flower in a glass of water, a flower in rhymed verses!
Summer fool, winter fool, fun and folly--but the first, the only,
the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes, thou shalt remain as a
token in the book, thou little snowdrop: thou hast been put there with
a meaning. "

And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book, and felt equally
honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book
of songs, and that he who was the first to sing and to write had
been also a snowdrop, had been a summer gauk, and had been looked upon
in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this, in her
way, as we interpret everything in our way.

That is the story of the Snowdrop.




SOMETHING

"I mean to be somebody, and do something useful in the world,"
said the eldest of five brothers. "I don't care how humble my position
is, so that I can only do some good, which will be something. I intend
to be a brickmaker; bricks are always wanted, and I shall be really
doing something. "

"Your 'something' is not enough for me," said the second
brother; "what you talk of doing is nothing at all, it is journeyman's
work, or might even be done by a machine. No! I should prefer to be
a builder at once, there is something real in that. A man gains a
position, he becomes a citizen, has his own sign, his own house of
call for his workmen: so I shall be a builder. If all goes well, in
time I shall become a master, and have my own journeymen, and my
wife will be treated as a master's wife. This is what I call
something. "

"I call it all nothing," said the third; "not in reality any
position. There are many in a town far above a master builder in
position. You may be an upright man, but even as a master you will
only be ranked among common men. I know better what to do than that. I
will be an architect, which will place me among those who possess
riches and intellect, and who speculate in art. I shall certainly have
to rise by my own endeavors from a bricklayer's laborer, or as a
carpenter's apprentice--a lad wearing a paper cap, although I now wear
a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and spirits for the journeymen,
and they will call me 'thou,' which will be an insult. I shall
endure it, however, for I shall look upon it all as a mere
representation, a masquerade, a mummery, which to-morrow, that is,
when I myself as a journeyman, shall have served my time, will vanish,
and I shall go my way, and all that has passed will be nothing to
me. Then I shall enter the academy, and get instructed in drawing, and
be called an architect. I may even attain to rank, and have
something placed before or after my name, and I shall build as
others have done before me. By this there will be always 'something'
to make me remembered, and is not that worth living for? "

"Not in my opinion," said the fourth; "I will never follow the
lead of others, and only imitate what they have done. I will be a
genius, and become greater than all of you together. I will create a
new style of building, and introduce a plan for erecting houses
suitable to the climate, with material easily obtained in the country,
and thus suit national feeling and the developments of the age,
besides building a storey for my own genius. "

"But supposing the climate and the material are not good for
much," said the fifth brother, "that would be very unfortunate for
you, and have an influence over your experiments. Nationality may
assert itself until it becomes affectation, and the developments of
a century may run wild, as youth often does. I see clearly that none
of you will ever really be anything worth notice, however you may
now fancy it. But do as you like, I shall not imitate you. I mean to
keep clear of all these things, and criticize what you do. In every
action something imperfect may be discovered, something not right,
which I shall make it my business to find out and expose; that will be
something, I fancy. " And he kept his word, and became a critic.

People said of this fifth brother, "There is something very
precise about him; he has a good head-piece, but he does nothing. " And
on that very account they thought he must be something.

Now, you see, this is a little history which will never end; as
long as the world exists, there will always be men like these five
brothers. And what became of them? Were they each nothing or
something? You shall hear; it is quite a history.

The eldest brother, he who fabricated bricks, soon discovered that
each brick, when finished, brought him in a small coin, if only a
copper one; and many copper pieces, if placed one upon another, can be
changed into a shining shilling; and at whatever door a person knocks,
who has a number of these in his hands, whether it be the baker's, the
butcher's, or the tailor's, the door flies open, and he can get all he
wants. So you see the value of bricks. Some of the bricks, however,
crumbled to pieces, or were broken, but the elder brother found a
use for even these.

On the high bank of earth, which formed a dyke on the sea-coast, a
poor woman named Margaret wished to build herself a house, so all
the imperfect bricks were given to her, and a few whole ones with
them; for the eldest brother was a kind-hearted man, although he never
achieved anything higher than making bricks. The poor woman built
herself a little house--it was small and narrow, and the window was
quite crooked, the door too low, and the straw roof might have been
better thatched. But still it was a shelter, and from within you could
look far over the sea, which dashed wildly against the sea-wall on
which the little house was built. The salt waves sprinkled their white
foam over it, but it stood firm, and remained long after he who had
given the bricks to build it was dead and buried.

The second brother of course knew better how to build than poor
Margaret, for he served an apprenticeship to learn it. When his time
was up, he packed up his knapsack, and went on his travels, singing
the journeyman's song,--

"While young, I can wander without a care,
And build new houses everywhere;
Fair and bright are my dreams of home,
Always thought of wherever I roam.

Hurrah for a workman's life of glee!
There's a loved one at home who thinks of me;
Home and friends I can ne'er forget,
And I mean to be a master yet. "

And that is what he did.