The Snow Queen

Third story — The flower-garden of the woman who knew magicthe art of sorcery

But how were things with little Gerda, now that Kay no longer came? Where could he be? – No one knew, no one had anything to tell. The boys could only say that they had seen him tie his small sledge to a magnificent large sleigh that drove off into the street and out at the city gate. No one knew where he was. Many tears were shed;, many tears were shed, little Gerda wept deeply and for a long time. Then people saidprofoundly and a long time; – then they said that he was dead, that he dead, had drowned in the river near the city. Oh, these were long, gloomythat ran close to the city; oh, these were drawn-out, dismal winter days.

Then spring came and the sun grew warmer.

‘Kay is dead and gone!’ little Gerda said.

‘I don’t believe it!’ the sunshine said.

‘He’s dead and gone!’ she said to the swallows.

‘I don’t believe it!’ they answered, and finally little Gerda didn’t either.

‘I’ll put on my new, red shoes,’ she said one morning.morning, ‘Kay’s never seen them, and I’ll go down to the river and ask it!’

It was very early. SheAnd it was quite early; she kissed the old grandmother, who was asleep, put on the red shoes and went all on her own out of the city gate to the river.

‘Is it true that you have taken my little playmate? I will give you my red shoes if you will return him to me!’

The waves seemed to her to nod so strangely. ThenAnd the waves, she thought, nodded so strangely; then she took off her red shoes, her most precious possession, and threwflung both of them into the river. Butout into the river, but they fell close to the shore, and the small waves immediately carried them back onto the land. Itbore them back to her on the land, it was as if the river did not want to take the most precious thing she owned because it did not have little Kay. But now she thought; but she now thought that she hadn’t thrown the shoes far enough. So she climbedenough out, and so she crept up into a boat lyingthat lay in the reeds, went to itsright out to the farthest end and threw the shoes out. Butout; but the boat wasn’t tiedfixed to anything, and her movementthis movement of hers made it start to glide away from the land. Sheland; she noticed this and hurried to get off. Before she could escape, the boatoff, but before she could escape from the boat it was a couple of feet out and drifting away faster.now slipping faster away.

Then little Gerda felt quite scared and started to cry. Nocry, but no one heard her except the house sparrows. Theysparrows, and they could not carry her back to the shore, but flew alongside the boatthey flew alongside it and sang, as if to comfort her: ‘Here we are! here we are!’ The boat drifted with the current. Littlecurrent; little Gerda sat quite still in her stockings, without shoes. Herstockinged feet; her small red shoes floated behind, but they couldn’t catch up with the boat: it was movingreach the boat, it started to move faster.

It was beautiful along bothon both the shores: lovely flowers, old trees and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a single person in sight.

‘Perhaps the river will carry me to where little Kay is,’ Gerda thought and that put her in a better mood. She, she sat up and gazed for many hours at the beautiful green shores. Thenshores; then she came to a large cherry orchard. Thereorchard where there was a small house with strange red and blue windows, and a roof covered with straw. Outside stoodnot to mention a thatched roof and outside two wooden soldiers holding their weapons in salutethat presented arms to anyone sailing past.

Gerda called out to them, thinking they were alive. Of course, they didn’t answer. Sheshe thought they were alive, but they didn’t answer of course; she came quite close to them:them, the current brought the boat straight straight in towards the land.

Gerda called out even louder, and then an old, old woman came out of the house, leaning on a stick curved at one end. Sheend; she was wearing a large sun-bonnet, and on it the loveliest of flowers had been painted.

‘You poor little child!’ the old woman said; ‘how on earth have you ended up on the swift-flowing river, carried far out into the wide world!’ Theand the old woman went right right out into the water, caught caught hold of the boat with the curved end of her stick and pulled it ashore. Then shestick, pulled it ashore and lifted little Gerda out.

And Gerda was glad to get back onto dry land, though a bit afraid of the strange, old woman.

‘Come and tell me who you are, and how you come to be here!’ she said.

And Gerda told her everything;  and the old woman shook her head and said ‘Hm! hm!’ When Gerda had finished and askedand when Gerda had said everything to her and asked her if she hadn’t seen little Kay, the woman said that he had not passed by, but that he was sure to do so. She told Gerda, and that she was not to be sad,sad but to taste her cherries andcherries, look at her flowers. Theyflowers, they were more beautiful than any picture book, she said, book, and each of them could tell an entire story. Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her into the small house. Thehand, they went into the small house, and the old woman shut the door behind them.

The windows were high up, withup and their panes were red, blue and yellow panes. Theyellow; the daylight shone so strangely through all those colours. But the loveliest cherries were on the table,inside there with every colour, but on the table were the loveliest cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she wished, for she felt freedared to do so. And while she was eating, the old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and shone so beautifully round her small, friendly face, so round and likethe small, friendly face that was so round and resembled a rose.

‘I’ve so longed to have such a sweet little girl,’ the old woman said. ‘Now you shall see how well the two of us are going to get on with each other!’ Asand while she combed little Gerda’s hair, Gerda forgot more and more about her playmate Kay. Forher playmate Kay; for the old woman was a sorceress, a woman who knew magic—butbut not an evil one. Sheone, she only did magic for her own pleasure, and now she wanted to keep little Gerda. That was why she went out into the garden andgarden, stretched her curved stick stick out towards all the rose-trees. Norose-trees, and, no matter how beautifully they were blooming, they all sank sank down into the black earth. Noearth and no one could see where they had stood.once stood. The old woman was afraid that when Gerda saw the roses, she would think of her own and then remember little Kay and run away.

She now led Gerda out into the flower-garden. – Oh! Whatwhat fragrance and what loveliness! Every flower you could imagine, fromevery conceivable flower, and for every season of the year, stood here in glorious bloom. Nobloom; no picture book could have more colours or be lovelier.be more many-coloured and lovely. Gerda jumped for joyjoy, and played until the sun set behind the tall cherry trees. Thentrees, then she was given a lovely bed with red silk duvets duvets that were filled with blue violets. Sheviolets, and she slept and dreamt in it as sweetly as any queen on her wedding day.

The next day she could play again with the flowers in the warm sunshine – and many days passed like this. Gerda knew every kind of flower, but no matter how many there were, she felt that one was missing. But she could not say which one.missing, but which one she was unable to say. Then one day she was sitting looking at the old woman’s sun-bonnet with the flowers painted on it, and the most beautiful of them all happened to be a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it off her bonnet when she got the others down into the ground. But that’s how it goes, when you haven’t thought of everything!one hasn’t collected all one’s thoughts! ‘What’s this?’ Gerda said.this!’ Gerda said, ‘There aren’t any roses here!’ Sheand she sprang in between the flower-beds, searching and searching, but there were none to be found. Thenfound; then she sat down and cried, but her warm tears fell precisely where a rose-tree had sunk into the ground. When, and when the warm tears watered the soil, the tree shot up again, as much in flower as when it had sunk down., and Gerda embraced it, kissed the roses and thought of the lovely roses back home. And and, when she did so, she also thought of little Kay.

‘Oh, how long I’ve been held up!I’ve been delayed!’ the little girl said. ‘I was on my way to try to find Kay! – Don’t you know where he is?’ she asked the roses. ‘Do you think he is dead and gone?’

‘He’s not dead,’ the roses said. ‘We’ve been in the ground where all the dead are, but Kay wasn’t there!’

‘Thank you, all of you!’ little Gerda said. She went over to the other flowers, looked into their said and she went over to the other flowers and looked into their flower cups, or calyces,calycesExplanation: Calyces is the plural of calyx, the usually green, cup-like outer part of a flower. The word and the image of flower cups are kept. and asked: ‘Don’t you know where little Kay is?’

But every flower stood there in the sun and dreamt its own fairy tale or story. Gerda heardstory, Gerda got so very many of them, but not one flower one knew anything about Kay.

And what then did the orange lily say?

‘Can you hear the drum: boom! boom! There are only two notes, always boom! boom! Listen to the women’s dirge, their song of mourning! Listenthere are only two notes, always boom! boom! listen to the women’s dirge! listen to the priests’ cries! – In her long, red sari, a length of cloth draped around the body,sari the Hindu wife stands on the pyre, the funeral fire. The flames riseflames rise up around her and her dead husband. But shehusband; but the Hindu woman thinks of the living manone here in the circle, circle, of him whose eyes burn more fiercely than the flames. The fire in his eyesflames, of him whose eyes’ fire reaches her heart more deeply more than the flames that will soon end her life.soon will turn her body into ashes.Explanation: The flower still tells of a woman who will die on her dead husband’s funeral fire while thinking of a living man. The graphic image of her body turning to ashes is softened for children; the contrasting flames of love are kept. This is the lily’s story, not a statement about all Hindu people. Can the heart’s flame die in the flames of the funeral pyre?’

‘I don’t understand that at all!’ little Gerda said.

‘That is my fairy tale!’ the orange lily said.

What does the convolvulus, the plant with funnel-shaped flowers,convolvulus say?

‘Over‘Out over the narrow mountain road hangs an old baron’s castle. Thick periwinkles growbaronial castle; dense periwinkles grow up round its old red walls, leaf by leaf, up around the balcony where a lovely girl stands. She leans over the balustrade, the balcony railing,stands; she leans out over the balustrade and gazes down the road. No rose hangs fresher from its branches than she does. No apple blossom carried from the tree by the winddoes, no apple blossom, when the wind carries it from the tree, floats more lightly than she does. Howdoes; how magnificently her silken dress rustles!rustles. “Isn’t he on his way yet!”’

‘Do you mean Kay?’ little Gerda asked.

‘I’m only talking about my fairy tale, my dream,’ the convolvulus answered.

What does the tiny snowdrop say?

‘Between the trees a long board hangs from a rope:on a rope hangs the long board, it is a swing. Twoswing; two delightful young girls are swinging. Their– their dresses are as white as snow, and snow, long green silk ribbons flutter from their hats. Their brother,hats – are swinging; their brother, who is taller than they are, stands on the swing withis standing up on the swing, his arm round the rope to keep his balance. Inbalance, for in one hand he holdsis holding a small bowl, in the other a clay pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles. Thepipe, he is blowing soap-bubbles; the swing swings, and the soap-bubbles fly out in lovely, changing colours. The last one still hangs fromcolours; the last one is still hanging on the pipe stem and bends in the breeze. Thebending in the breeze; the swing swings. The little black dog, as light as the bubbles, gets up on its hind legs and wants to join them on the swing. It flies! Theswing, it flies; the dog tumbles down, barks and is angry. It has been fooled. The bubbles burst—myangry; it is being duped, the bubbles burst – my song is a swinging board, a bursting picture of foam!’

‘What you tell me may well be beautiful, but you say things in such a mournful way and don’t mention Kay at all. What do the hyacinths say?’

‘There were three lovely sisters, so transparent and fine. Thefine; the first one’s dress was red, the second one’s blue and the third one’s completely white. Handwhite; hand in hand they danced by the still lake in the bright moonlight. They were not elves, they were human children. There was such a sweet scent, and the girls disappeared into the forest. The scent grew stronger. Three coffins, withforest; the scent grew stronger – three coffins, in which the lovely girls lying in them, glided out of the thick bushes across the lake. Glow-wormslay down, glided out from the thicket out across the lake; glow-worms flew round them, glimmering like small floating lights. Are the dancing girls asleep, or are they dead? – The flower scent says they are corpses; the evening bell rings out over the dead!’

‘You make me feel quite sad,’ little Gerda said. ‘You have such a strong scent; I have to think of the dead girls! Ah,ah, is little Kay really dead? The roses have been down in the ground, and they say no!’

‘Ding, dong!’ the bells of the hyacinth rang. ‘We do not ring for Kay—we do not know him! Wetoll for Kay, him we do not know! we are just singing our song, the only one we know!’

And Gerda went over to the buttercup, which could be seen gleaming among the shiny, green leaves.

‘You are a bright little sun!’ Gerda said. ‘Tell me if you know where I can find my playmate?’

And the buttercup shone so beautifully and looked at Gerda once more. What song could the buttercup perhaps sing? It was not about Kay either.

‘Down into a small yard God’s sun shone so warmly on the first day of spring. Itsspring; its rays slid down the neighbour’s white wall. Close by,wall, close by the first yellow flowers were growing, gleaming gold in the warm sun. Oldrays of the sun; old grandmother was outside in her chair. Her granddaughter, a poor, lovely maid, came home for a short visit andchair, her granddaughter, the poor, lovely maid servant, came home on a short visit; she kissed her grandmother. It was gold, the heart’s gold, in that delightful kiss. Lips touched with gold, heart made of gold, gold on high before the day growsere the day is old! Now that was my little story!’ the buttercup said.

‘My poor old grandmother!’ Gerda sighed. ‘Yes, she’s sure to be longing for me, worried about me as she was for little Kay. But I’ll soon be back, and I’ll have Kay with me. – Asking the flowers doesn’t help. They only know their own song andisn’t any help, all they know is their own song, they can’t tell me anything!’ ThenAnd then she tied up her little skirtskirt, so that she could run faster. But the narcissus hit herfaster; but the narcissus struck her over the leg as she jumped over it. She stopped,it; then she stopped up, looked at the tall yellow flower and asked: ‘Do you know something, perhaps?’ Sheand bent down to the narcissus. And what did it say?

‘I can see myself! I can see myself!’ the narcissus said. ‘Oh, oh, what a fine smell I have! – Up in the small attic roomroom, half-dressed, a little dancer stands half-dressed. Now she standsis standing, now she’s standing on one leg, now on two, and kicks her heels at the whole world. She merely tricksworld, she merely deceives the eye. She pours water from the tea-pot onto thea piece of clothing she is holding: her bodice, the fitted top of her dress. Cleanlinessholding, it is her bodice; – cleanliness is next to godliness! Her white dress hangs from its hook. Ither white dress is hanging on its hook, it has also been washed in the tea-pot and dried on the roof. Sheroof; she puts it on, with on, the saffron-yellow scarf round her neck. Thenneck, then her dress gleams even whiter. Leg in the air! Seesee how she struts on one stem! I can see myself! I can see myself!’

‘I don’t care about that!’ Gerda said. ‘That’s nothing to tell me about!’ and then she ran to the edge of the garden.

The door was shut, but she wriggled the rusty hasp, the metal fastening, until it came loose.rusty hasp till it came loose, The door sprang open, andand the door sprung open, and then little Gerda ran off on her bare feet into the wide world. She looked behind her three times, but no one followed her; finally she couldn’t run any longer and she sat down on a large stone. Whenstone, and when she looked around her, summer was over. Ither the summer was over, it was late in the autumn. Sheautumn; that she had not been able to notice that notice in the lovely garden, where there was always sunshine and flowers of every season.

‘Good lord, how long I’ve been held up!delayed I am!’ little Gerda said: ‘It’s autumn already! I daren’t rest for a moment!’ and she got up to go on.so as to continue.

Oh, how sore and tired Oh, how her small feet were! Everythingwere sore and tired, and everything around her seemed cold and damp. Theto be cold and raw; the long willow leaves had turned quite yellow, and drops ofyellow and mist dripped from them. One leaf after another was falling. Onlythem in drops of water, one leaf after the other was falling, only the blackthorn still had fruit,fruit on it that was so sour it made your lips pucker.one purse one’s lips. Oh, how grey and heavy it was in the wide world.