The walls of the palace were made of driven snow, its doors and windows of cutting winds. There were a hundred halls, the largest of which was many miles long, all illuminated by the northern lights. They were all alike: vast, empty, icily cold, and dazzlingly white. In the middle of the empty, interminable snow lay a frozen lake. It was broken into exactly a thousand pieces, and these pieces were so exactly alike that it might well be thought a work of more than human skill. The Snow Queen always sat in the center of this lake when she was at home.
Kay played among the icy fragments, joining them together in every possible way just as people do with Chinese puzzles. He had become quite blue with cold; in fact, he was almost black, but he did not notice it for the Snow Queen had kissed away the shrinking feeling he used to experience, and his heart was like a lump of ice. Kay could make the most curious and complete figures-and in his eyes these figures were of the utmost importance. He often spelled out whole words, but there was one word he could never succeed in forming. It was Etemity. The Snow Queen had said to him, "When you can put that word together, you shall become your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates as well."
But he could never do it.
"Now I am going to the warm countries," said the Snow Queen one day. "I shall sail through the air and look into the black cauldrons." She meant the volcanoes Etna and Vesuvius. "I shall whiten them a little." So she flew away, leaving Kay sitting all alone in the large empty hall of ice. He looked at the fragments and thought and thought, till his head ached. He sat so still and stiff that he looked as though he was frozen solid.
just then Gerda passed through the palace gates. The winds blew keenly, but she repeated her prayer and they ceased as she entered the huge empty hall. There she saw Kay. She flew to him, fell upon his neck, held him fast, and cried, "Kay! Dear, dear Kay! I have found you at last!"
But he sat as still as before-cold, silent, motionless. Gerda began to cry, shedding warm tears that fell on Kay and found their way to his heart. They thawed the ice and dissolved the tiny fragment of glass within it. He looked at her, and she sang her hymn:
Our roses bloom and fade away,
Our Infant Lord abides always;
May we be blessed His face to see,
And ever little children be!
Then Kay burst into tears. He wept till the glass splinter floated in his eye and fell with his tears. He knew his old companion immediately and exclaimed with joy, "Gerda, my dear Gerda, where have you been all this time? And where have I been?"
He looked around him. "How cold it is here! How wide and empty!" Then he hugged Gerda, while she laughed and wept. Even the pieces of ice took part in their joy. They danced about merrily, and when they were weary they lay down forming of their own accord the word Eternity, which made Kay his own master.
Gerda kissed his cheeks, and immediately they became as fresh and glowing as ever. She kissed his eyes, and they sparkled like her own. She kissed his hands and feet, and he was once more healthy and merry. The Snow Queen might come home as soon as she liked -it didn't matter. Kay's right to his freedom stood written on the lake in bright icy characters.
They took each other by the hand and wandered out of the palace. As they walked on, the winds were hushed into a calm and the sun burst out in splendor from among the dark storm clouds. When they arrived at the bush with the red berries, they found the reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another younger reindeer with him, whose udders were full and who gladly gave warm milk to refresh them.
Then the two reindeer carried Kay and Gerda back to the little hothouse of the wise woman of Finland, where they warmed themselves and were told the best way to make the long journey home. Afterward they went to the Lapland woman, who made them some new clothes and provided them with a small sleigh.
The whole party now traveled on together until they came to the edge of Lapland. just where the green leaves began to sprout, the Lapland woman and the two reindeer took their leave. "Farewell, farewell!" they all said. The first birds Kay and Gerda had seen for a long, long time began to sing their pretty songs, and the trees of the forest were heavy with bright green leaves. Suddenly the green boughs parted and a spirited horse galloped up. Gerda knew it well, for it was one that had been harnessed to her golden coach. On it sat a young girl wearing a bright scarlet cap with pistols on the holster before her. It was none other than the robber-maiden! Fed up with her home in the forest, she had taken to traveling, first to the north and afterward to other parts of the world. She at once recognized Gerda, and Gerda had certainly not forgotten her. They hugged each other joyfully.
"A fine gentleman you are, to be sure, you graceless young truant!" she said to Kay. "I should like to know whether you deserved anyone running to the end of the world on your behalf."
But Gerda stroked her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess.
"They have gone traveling into foreign countries," replied the robber-maiden.
'And the raven?" asked Gerda.
'Ah! The raven is dead. Now his sweetheart is a widow, she hops about with a piece of flannel wound round her leg. She moans most sadly and chatters more than ever! But tell me now all that has happened to you and how you managed to pick up your old playfellow."
And Gerda and Kay told their story "Snip-snap-snurre-basselurre!" said the robber-maiden. She pressed the hands of both, promised that if ever she passed through their town she would pay them a visit, and then said good-bye and rode off.
Kay and Gerda walked on hand in hand, and wherever they went it was spring, beautiful spring, with its bright flowers and green leaves. They arrived at a large town, the church bells were ringing merrily, and they immediately recognized the high towers rising mto the sky. It was the town where their families lived. Happily they passed through the streets and stopped at the door of Gerda's grandmother.
They walked up the stairs together and entered the well-known room. The clock said, "Tick, tock!" and the hands moved as before. They could only find one difference, and that was in themselves, for they saw that they were now grown-up people. The rose trees on the roof blossomed in front of the open window, and there beneath them stood the children's stools. Kay and Gerda went and sat down, still holding each other by the hand. They forgot the cold, hollow splendor of the Snow Queen's palace; it seemed like an unpleasant dream. Gerda's grandmother, now old, sat in the bright sunshine and read these words from the Bible, "Unless ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
And Kay and Gerda gazed on each other, and all at once they understood the words of their hymn:
Our roses bloom and fade away,
Our Infant Lord abides always;
May we be blessed His face to see,
And ever little children be!
There they both sat, grown up and yet children-children at heart-and it was summer, beautiful, warm summer.
