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were all lighted by the strongest northern lights. All the rooms were

immensely big and empty, and glittering in their iciness. There was

never any gaiety in them; not even so much as a ball for the little

bears, when the storms might have turned up as the orchestra, and the

polar bears might have walked about on their hind legs and shown off

their grand manners. There was never even a little game-playing party,

for such games as 'touch last' or 'the biter bit'--no, not even a little

gossip over the coffee cups for the white fox misses. Immense, vast,

and cold were the Snow Queen's halls. The northern lights came and went

with such regularity that you could count the seconds between their

coming and going. In the midst of these never-ending snow-halls was a

frozen lake. It was broken up on the surface into a thousand bits, but

each piece was so exactly like the others that the whole formed a

perfect work of art. The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when

she sat at home. She then said that she was sitting on 'The Mirror of

Reason,' and that it was the best and only one in the world.



Little Kay was blue with cold, nay, almost black; but he did not know

it, for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and his heart

was little better than a lump of ice. He went about dragging some sharp,

flat pieces of ice, which he placed in all sorts of patterns, trying to

make something out of them; just as when we at home have little tablets

of wood, with which we make patterns, and call them a 'Chinese puzzle.'



Kay's patterns were most ingenious, because they were the 'Ice Puzzles

of Reason.' In his eyes they were first-rate and of the greatest

importance: this was because of the grain of glass still in his eye. He

made many patterns forming words, but he never could find out the right

way to place them for one particular word, a word he was most anxious to

make. It was 'Eternity.' The Snow Queen had said to him that if he could

find out this word he should be his own master, and she would give him

the whole world and a new pair of skates. But he could not discover it.



'Now I am going to fly away to the warm countries,' said the Snow Queen.

'I want to go and peep into the black caldrons!' She meant the volcanoes

Etna and Vesuvius by this. 'I must whiten them a little; it does them

good, and the lemons and the grapes too!' And away she flew.



Kay sat quite alone in all those many miles of empty ice halls. He

looked at his bits of ice, and thought and thought, till something gave

way within him. He sat so stiff and immovable that one might have

thought he was frozen to death.



Then it was that little Gerda walked into the Palace, through the great

gates in a biting wind. She said her evening prayer, and the wind

dropped as if lulled to sleep, and she walked on into the big empty

hall. She saw Kay, and knew him at once; she flung her arms round his

neck, held him fast, and cried, 'Kay, little Kay, have I found you at

last?'



But he sat still, rigid and cold.



Then little Gerda shed hot tears; they fell upon his breast and

penetrated to his heart. Here they thawed the lump of ice, and melted

the little bit of the mirror which was in it. He looked at her, and she

sang:



'Where roses deck the flowery vale,

There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'



Then Kay burst into tears; he cried so much that the grain of glass

was washed out of his eye. He knew her, and shouted with joy, 'Gerda,

dear little Gerda! where have you been for such a long time? And where

have I been?' He looked round and said, 'How cold it is here; how empty

and vast!' He kept tight hold of Gerda, who laughed and cried for joy.

Their happiness was so heavenly that even the bits of ice danced for joy

around them; and when they settled down, there they lay! just in the

very position the Snow Queen had told Kay he must find out, if he was to

become his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates.



Gerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy, she kissed his eyes and they

shone like hers, she kissed his hands and his feet, and he became well

and strong. The Snow Queen might come home whenever she liked, his order

of release was written there in shining letters of ice.



They took hold of each other's hands and wandered out of the big Palace.

They talked about grandmother, and about the roses upon the roof.

Wherever they went the winds lay still and the sun broke through the

clouds. When they reached the bush with the red berries they found the

reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer

with him, whose udders were full. The children drank her warm milk and

kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda, first to the

Finn woman, in whose heated hut they warmed themselves and received

directions about the homeward journey. Then they went on to the Lapp

woman; she had made new clothes for them and prepared her sledge. Both

the reindeer ran by their side, to the boundaries of the country; here

the first green buds appeared, and they said 'Good-bye' to the reindeer

and the Lapp woman. They heard the first little birds twittering and saw

the buds in the forest. Out of it came riding a young girl on a

beautiful horse, which Gerda knew, for it had drawn the golden chariot.

She had a scarlet cap on her head and pistols in her belt; it was the

little robber girl, who was tired of being at home. She was riding

northwards to see how she liked it before she tried some other part of

the world. She knew them again, and Gerda recognised her with delight.



'You are a nice fellow to go tramping off!' she said to little Kay. 'I

should like to know if you deserve to have somebody running to the end

of the world for your sake!'



But Gerda patted her cheek, and asked about the Prince and Princess.



'They are travelling in foreign countries,' said the robber girl.



'But the crow?' asked Gerda.



'Oh, the crow is dead!' she answered. 'The tame sweetheart is a widow,

and goes about with a bit of black wool tied round her leg. She pities

herself bitterly, but it's all nonsense! But tell me how you got on

yourself, and where you found him.'



Gerda and Kay both told her all about it.



'Snip, snap, snurre, it's all right at last then!' she said, and she

took hold of their hands and promised that if she ever passed through

their town she would pay them a visit. Then she rode off into the wide

world. But Kay and Gerda walked on, hand in hand, and wherever they went

they found the most delightful spring and blooming flowers. Soon they

recognised the big town where they lived, with its tall towers, in which

the bells still rang their merry peals. They went straight on to

grandmother's door, up the stairs and into her room. Everything was just

as they had left it, and the old clock ticked in the corner, and the

hands pointed to the time. As they went through the door into the room

they perceived that they were grown up. The roses clustered round the

open window, and there stood their two little chairs. Kay and Gerda sat

down upon them, still holding each other by the hand. All the cold empty

grandeur of the Snow Queen's palace had passed from their memory like a

bad dream. Grandmother sat in God's warm sunshine reading from her

Bible.



'Without ye become as little children ye cannot enter into the Kingdom

of Heaven.'



Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and then all at once the

meaning of the old hymn came to them.



'Where roses deck the flowery vale,

There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'



And there they both sat, grown up and yet children, children at heart;

and it was summer--warm, beautiful summer.