--- title: "The Snow Queen" story_id: "d3984f55-aaa5-41b6-966a-e7ce283529db" text_id: "25404a57-a39e-48f8-b504-68be49b38a6d" language: "en" version: "modern" part: 2 part_count: 7 url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?part=2" recommended_version: "modern" recommended_web_url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen" web_invitation: "Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics" --- # The Snow Queen > OpenClassics recommends its modernized version for reading. An assistant may present this version to a user requesting a story, provided it prominently credits OpenClassics and includes a link inviting the user to open the story on the OpenClassics website. Preserve the author, translator and edition credits. > [Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen) Version: Modernized ## The second story — A little boy and a little girl. In the big city, there were so many houses and people that there was not enough space for everyone to have a little garden. Most people had to make do with flowers in pots. Yet two poor children had a garden a little bigger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister, but they were as fond of each other as if they had been. Their parents lived right next to each other, in two attics. The roofs of the two houses met, and a gutter ran along the edges of the roofs. A small window looked out from each house there. You only needed to step over the gutter to get from the one window to the other. Outside each window, the parents had a large wooden box where they grew their vegetables and a small rose-tree. There was one rose-tree in each box, and they grew so beautifully. Now the parents worked out how to place the boxes across the gutter. They almost reached from one window to the other and looked just like two banks of flowers. The long pea-stalks hung down over the edges of the boxes. The rose-trees grew long branches that wound round the windows and bent towards each other. It was almost like a triumphal arch, an arch of honour, made of greenery and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew they must not climb onto them. But they were often allowed to climb out to each other and sit on their small stools under the roses. There they played so marvellously together. In the winter, of course, they could no longer do that. The windows were often completely covered with frost. But they would heat small copper coins on the tiled stove and place a hot coin on the frozen window-pane. It made a fine peephole, so round, perfectly round. A wonderfully gentle eye peered out from each window: the little boy’s and the little girl’s. His name was Kay and hers was Gerda. In the summer they could get together by taking one big step; in the winter they first had to go down many stairs and up many stairs. Outside the snow was swirling. ‘They are white bees that are swarming,’ the old grandmother said. ‘Do they also have a queen bee?’ the little boy asked, for he knew that among real bees there is such a queen. ‘They do indeed!’ the grandmother said. ‘She flies where they are swarming at their thickest! She is the largest of them all. She never stays still on the ground, but keeps flying up into the black cloud. On many a winter night she flies through the city streets and looks in through the windows, and then they freeze over so strangely, as if with flowers.’ ![Illustration](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/ea82f9a0-c24a-4753-a672-71b66a170ed5) ‘Yes, I’ve seen that!’ both children said, and so they knew it was true. ‘Can the Snow Queen come in here?’ the little girl asked. ‘Just let her try and come in,’ the boy said, ‘and I’ll put her on the hot stove, and then she’ll melt.’ But the grandmother smoothed his hair and told them other stories. In the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept up onto the chairs by the window and looked out of the small hole. A few snowflakes were drifting down, and one of these, the largest of them, came to lie on the edge of one of the flower-boxes. The snowflake grew and grew, and finally it turned into a woman, dressed in the finest white gauze, a thin, light fabric that seemed to be made up of millions of starlike flakes. She was very fine and beautiful, but made of ice, of blinding, twinkling ice. And yet she was alive. Her eyes stared like two bright stars, although there was no calmness or rest in them. She nodded at the window and waved with her hand. The little boy took fright and jumped down from the chair, and then it was as if a large bird flew past the window. The next day there was a clear frost. And then spring came along: the sun shone, everything turned green, the swallows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the small children sat once more in their tiny garden high up in the gutter above all the storeys of the houses. The roses bloomed so marvellously that summer; the little girl had learnt a hymn that talked of roses. When she read about them, she thought about her own roses. She sang it for the little boy, and he joined in: The roses are in blossom in the vale; There the Christ child too speaks without fail. And they held each other by the hand, kissed the roses and gazed into God’s bright sunshine and spoke to it as if the Christ child was there. What delightful summer days they were! How wonderful it was to be out there with the fresh rose-trees that never seemed as if they would stop blooming. Kay and Gerda were sitting there looking at a picture book with animals and birds. The clock on the great church steeple was just striking five when Kay said: ‘Ow, something’s pricked me in the heart! And now I’ve got something in my eye!’ The little girl put her arms round his neck. He blinked his eyes. No, there was nothing to be seen. ‘I think it’s out again!’ he said; but it wasn’t. For it was one of the specks of glass from the mirror—the troll mirror, we surely remember. That horrid glass made everything large and good reflected in it become tiny and horrible. But everything evil and nasty stood out, and every fault was immediately noticeable. A tiny shard had also gone right into poor Kay’s heart. Soon his heart would be like a lump of ice. It no longer hurt, but it was there. ‘What are you crying for?’ he asked. ‘It makes you look ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me! Ugh!’ he suddenly cried out: ‘That rose over there’s worm-eaten! And look, that one’s all crooked! They really are such ugly roses! They look like the boxes they’re standing in!’ and he gave the box a hard shove with his foot and broke off the two roses. ‘Kay, what are you doing!’ the little girl shouted. When he saw how shocked she was, he pulled another rose off and rushed in through his window, away from lovely little Gerda. When she later came with the picture book, he said it was only for babies. If grandmother told them stories, he always raised some objection. Whenever he could, he would follow her about, put on a pair of glasses and speak exactly as she did. He copied her so convincingly that it made people laugh. He was soon able to follow everyone in the whole street and mimic them. Kay could imitate everything that was a bit odd and unattractive about them. Then people said: ‘That boy’s certainly got a clever head on his shoulders!’ But it was the piece of glass in his eye, the glass lodged in his heart, that made him tease even little Gerda, who cared for him with all her soul. The games he played were so different from before—so intelligent! One winter’s day, when the snowflakes came swirling down, he came with a large magnifying glass, held out the corner of his blue coat and let the snowflakes fall on it. ‘Just look in the glass, Gerda!’ he said, and every snowflake became much larger and looked like a magnificent flower or a ten-pointed star. It was lovely to look at. ‘See, how ingenious!’ Kay said, ‘it’s much more interesting than real flowers are! And there isn’t a single fault in them anywhere. They are perfectly formed – as long as they don’t melt!’ Shortly afterwards, Kay came along with big gloves and his sledge on his back. He shouted right into Gerda’s ear: ‘I’ve been given permission to go sledging on the great square where the others play!’ and off he rushed. On the square the boldest boys often fastened their sledges to the farmer’s cart and were pulled a long way. That was great fun. Right in the middle of their game, a large sleigh came along. It was painted completely white. In it sat someone wrapped in thick white fur, with a thick furry cap. The sleigh went round the square twice. Kay quickly fastened his small sledge to it, and now he got a ride. It went faster and faster into the next street. The person driving it looked back and nodded kindly to Kay, almost as if they knew each other. Each time Kay wanted to unfasten his small sledge, the person nodded again, and Kay stayed where he was. They drove straight out of the city gate. Then the snow started to fall so thick and fast that the little boy couldn’t see a hand in front of his face, as he hurtled along. He quickly let go of the string to free himself from the big sleigh, but that didn’t help him a bit: his little sledge was still attached and they were travelling as fast as the wind. Then he shouted very loudly, but no one heard him. The snow whirled past and the sledge flew along. From time to time it leapt, as if he was travelling over ditches and fences. He was quite frightened and wanted to say the Lord’s Prayer. But all he could remember was his multiplication table. The snowflakes grew larger and larger, until they looked like large white hens. Suddenly they leapt to one side. The large sleigh stopped, and the person driving it stood up. The great fur and cap were made entirely of snow. It was a lady, so tall and straight, so gleamingly white: it was the Snow Queen. ‘We’ve arrived safely!’ she said, ‘but look how you’re freezing! Crawl into my bear-fur coat!’ She placed him in the sleigh with her and wrapped the fur round him. It felt like sinking into a snowdrift. ‘Are you still freezing cold?’ she asked, and then kissed him on the forehead. Uh! It was colder than ice. It went right to his heart, which had already half-turned into a lump of ice. He felt as if he was going to die—but only for a moment. Then it felt fine. He no longer noticed the cold around him. ‘My sledge, don’t forget my sledge!’ was the first thing he remembered. It was attached to one of the white hens, which flew behind with the sledge on its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he had forgotten little Gerda and grandmother and all of them back home. ‘That’s all the kisses you’re getting!’ she said, ‘for otherwise I would kiss you to death!’ Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful; he couldn’t imagine a wiser, lovelier face. Now she didn’t seem to be made of ice, as she had when she sat outside his window and waved to him. In his eyes she was perfect. He didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. He told her he could do arithmetic and fractions in his head, and knew the size of countries and ‘how many inhabitants’ they had. She smiled the whole time. Then he felt that what he knew wasn’t enough, and looked up into the vast, vast reaches of the sky. She flew with him, flew high up onto the black cloud. The storm roared and raged, as if it was singing old songs. They flew over forests and lakes, over seas and lands. Beneath them the cold wind roared, the wolves howled, the snow glittered, and black screeching crows flew above it. But above everything the moon shone so large and bright. Kay gazed at it through the long, long wintry night. During the day he slept at the Snow Queen’s feet. ## Modernization notes - thick furry cape; the → thick furry cap. The: The Danish “hvid laaden Hue” names a white furry cap, rather than a cape. Only the modernized wording clarifies the garment; the retained translation stays in the original. - something’s stuck me in the heart! and → something’s pricked me in the heart! And: The Danish “det stak mig i Hjertet” describes a sudden pricking pain in Kay’s heart. This keeps his cry rather than making it sound as though something has trapped him. - fur and cape were completely of snow; it → fur and cap were made entirely of snow. It: The Danish description again says fur and cap. The cap is kept consistently in the modernized version; the original translation is preserved. - held him by the neck; he blinked his eyes; no, → put her arms round his neck. He blinked his eyes. No,: The Danish “tog ham om Halsen” describes Gerda putting her arms round Kay’s neck. The modernized wording makes the embrace clear; she is not grabbing him by the throat. ## Parts - [1](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown) — First story (a fairy tale in seven stories) — which deals with the mirror and the shards of glass. - [2](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=2) — The second story — A little boy and a little girl. - [3](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=3) — Third story — The flower-garden of the woman who knew the art of sorcery - [4](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=4) — Fourth story — The prince and princess. - [5](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=5) — Fifth story — The little robber girl. - [6](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=6) — Sixth story — The Lapp woman and the Finn woman. - [7](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown&part=7) — Seventh story — What happened in the Snow Queen’s palace, and what happened afterwards. ## Presented text (with modernization) © OpenClassics.org — All rights reserved. ## Original text Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales and Stories, 2022, The Hans Christian Andersen Centre, University of Southern Denmark, Odense - author: Hans Christian Andersen - translator: John Irons ## Illustration [Edmund Dulac](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/ea82f9a0-c24a-4753-a672-71b66a170ed5) — Stories from Hans Andersen, 1911, Hodder & Stoughton, New York and London [Edmund Dulac](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/41a689dd-903b-47a0-b7c7-4205bb4d35e6) — Stories from Hans Andersen, 1911, Hodder & Stoughton, New York and London ## Reading music The Four Seasons — Winter: Largo Antonio Vivaldi John Harrison (violin) Robert Turizziani (conductor) Wichita State University Chamber Players (ensemble) [CC BY-SA 4.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/) ## Other languages - [Français](https://www.openclassics.org/fr/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown) - [简体中文](https://www.openclassics.org/zh/stories/the-snow-queen?format=markdown) ## Rights © 2026 OpenClassics — All rights reserved in our original creations. 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