the snow queen in seven stories-第3节

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and　on　it　were　painted　all　sorts　of　pretty　flowers。　〃You　poor　little

child；〃　said　the　old　woman；　〃how　did　you　manage　to　come　all　this

distance　into　the　wide　world　on　such　a　rapid　rolling　stream？〃　And　then

the　old　woman　walked　in　the　water；　seized　the　boat　with　her　crutch；

drew　it　to　land；　and　lifted　Gerda　out。　And　Gerda　was　glad　to　feel

herself　on　dry　ground；　although　she　was　rather　afraid　of　the　strange

old　woman。　〃Come　and　tell　me　who　you　are；〃　said　she；　〃and　how　came　you

here。〃

　　　　Then　Gerda　told　her　everything；　while　the　old　woman　shook　her

head；　and　said；　〃Hem…hem；〃　and　when　she　had　finished；　Gerda　asked　if

she　had　not　seen　little　Kay；　and　the　old　woman　told　her　he　had　not

passed　by　that　way；　but　he　very　likely　would　come。　So　she　told　Gerda

not　to　be　sorrowful；　but　to　taste　the　cherries　and　look　at　the

flowers；　they　were　better　than　any　picture…book；　for　each　of　them

could　tell　a　story。　Then　she　took　Gerda　by　the　hand　and　led　her　into

the　little　house；　and　the　old　woman　closed　the　door。　The　windows

were　very　high；　and　as　the　panes　were　red；　blue；　and　yellow；　the

daylight　shone　through　them　in　all　sorts　of　singular　colors。　On　the

table　stood　beautiful　cherries；　and　Gerda　had　permission　to　eat　as

many　as　she　would。　While　she　was　eating　them　the　old　woman　combed

out　her　long　flaxen　ringlets　with　a　golden　comb；　and　the　glossy

curls　hung　down　on　each　side　of　the　little　round　pleasant　face；

which　looked　fresh　and　blooming　as　a　rose。　〃I　have　long　been　wishing

for　a　dear　little　maiden　like　you；〃　said　the　old　woman；　〃and　now　you

must　stay　with　me；　and　see　how　happily　we　shall　live　together。〃　And

while　she　went　on　combing　little　Gerda's　hair；　she　thought　less　and

less　about　her　adopted　brother　Kay；　for　the　old　woman　could　conjure；

although　she　was　not　a　wicked　witch；　she　conjured　only　a　little　for

her　own　amusement；　and　now；　because　she　wanted　to　keep　Gerda。

Therefore　she　went　into　the　garden；　and　stretched　out　her　crutch

towards　all　the　rose…trees；　beautiful　though　they　were；　and　they

immediately　sunk　into　the　dark　earth；　so　that　no　one　could　tell

where　they　had　once　stood。　The　old　woman　was　afraid　that　if　little

Gerda　saw　roses　she　would　think　of　those　at　home；　and　then　remember

little　Kay；　and　run　away。　Then　she　took　Gerda　into　the

flower…garden。　How　fragrant　and　beautiful　it　was！　Every　flower　that

could　be　thought　of　for　every　season　of　the　year　was　here　in　full

bloom；　no　picture…book　could　have　more　beautiful　colors。　Gerda

jumped　for　joy；　and　played　till　the　sun　went　down　behind　the　tall

cherry…trees；　then　she　slept　in　an　elegant　bed　with　red　silk

pillows；　embroidered　with　colored　violets；　and　then　she　dreamed　as

pleasantly　as　a　queen　on　her　wedding　day。　The　next　day；　and　for　many

days　after；　Gerda　played　with　the　flowers　in　the　warm　sunshine。　She

knew　every　flower；　and　yet；　although　there　were　so　many　of　them；　it

seemed　as　if　one　were　missing；　but　which　it　was　she　could　not　tell。

One　day；　however；　as　she　sat　looking　at　the　old　woman's　hat　with　the

painted　flowers　on　it；　she　saw　that　the　prettiest　of　them　all　was　a

rose。　The　old　woman　had　forgotten　to　take　it　from　her　hat　when　she

made　all　the　roses　sink　into　the　earth。　But　it　is　difficult　to　keep

the　thoughts　together　in　everything；　one　little　mistake　upsets　all　our

arrangements。

　　　　〃What；　are　there　no　roses　here？〃　cried　Gerda；　and　she　ran　out　into

the　garden；　and　examined　all　the　beds；　and　searched　and　searched。

There　was　not　one　to　be　found。　Then　she　sat　down　and　wept；　and　her

tears　fell　just　on　the　place　where　one　of　the　rose…trees　had　sunk

down。　The　warm　tears　moistened　the　earth；　and　the　rose…tree　sprouted

up　at　once；　as　blooming　as　when　it　had　sunk；　and　Gerda　embraced　it　and

kissed　the　roses；　and　thought　of　the　beautiful　roses　at　home；　and；

with　them；　of　little　Kay。

　　　　〃Oh；　how　I　have　been　detained！〃　said　the　little　maiden；　〃I

wanted　to　seek　for　little　Kay。　Do　you　know　where　he　is？〃　she　asked　the

roses；　〃do　you　think　he　is　dead？〃

　　　　And　the　roses　answered；　〃No；　he　is　not　dead。　We　have　been　in　the

ground　where　all　the　dead　lie；　but　Kay　is　not　there。〃

　　　　〃Thank　you；〃　said　little　Gerda；　and　then　she　went　to　the　other

flowers；　and　looked　into　their　little　cups；　and　asked；　〃Do　you　know

where　little　Kay　is？〃　But　each　flower；　as　it　stood　in　the　sunshine；

dreamed　only　of　its　own　little　fairy　tale　of　history。　Not　one　knew

anything　of　Kay。　Gerda　heard　many　stories　from　the　flowers；　as　she

asked　them　one　after　another　about　him。

　　　　And　what；　said　the　tiger…lily？　〃Hark；　do　you　hear　the　drum？　…

'turn；　turn；'…　there　are　only　two　notes；　always；　'turn；　turn。'

Listen　to　the　women's　song　of　mourning！　Hear　the　cry　of　the　priest！　In

her　long　red　robe　stands　the　Hindoo　widow　by　the　funeral　pile。　The

flames　rise　around　her　as　she　places　herself　on　the　dead　body　of　her

husband；　but　the　Hindoo　woman　is　thinking　of　the　living　one　in　that

circle；　of　him；　her　son；　who　lighted　those　flames。　Those　shining

eyes　trouble　her　heart　more　painfully　than　the　flames　which　will

soon　consume　her　body　to　ashes。　Can　the　fire　of　the　heart　be

extinguished　in　the　flames　of　the　funeral　pile？〃

　　　　〃I　don't　understand　that　at　all；〃　said　little　Gerda。

　　　　〃That　is　my　story；〃　said　the　tiger…lily。

　　　　What；　says　the　convolvulus？　〃Near　yonder　narrow　road　stands　an　old

knight's　castle；　thick　ivy　creeps　over　the　old　ruined　walls；　leaf　over

leaf；　even　to　the　balcony；　in　which　stands　a　beautiful　maiden。　She

bends　over　the　balustrades；　and　looks　up　the　road。　No　rose　on　its　stem

is　fresher　than　she；　no　apple…blossom；　wafted　by　the　wind；　floats　more

lightly　than　she　moves。　Her　rich　silk　rustles　as　she　bends　over　and

exclaims；　'Will　he　not　come？'

　　　　〃Is　it　Kay　you　mean？〃　asked　Gerda。

　　　　〃I　am　only　speaking　of　a　story　of　my　dream；〃　replied　the　flower。

　　　　What；　said　the　little　snow…drop？　〃Between　two　trees　a　rope　is

hanging；　there　is　a　piece　of　board　upon　it；　it　is　a　swing。　Two

pretty　little　girls；　in　dresses　white　as　snow；　and　with　long　green

ribbons　fluttering　from　their　hats；　are　sitting　upon　it　swinging。

Their　brother　who　is　taller　than　they　are；　stands　in　the　swing；　he　has

one　arm　round　the　rope；　to　steady　himself；　in　one　hand　he　holds　a

little　bowl；　and　in　the　other　a　clay　pipe；　he　is　blowing　bubbles。　As

the　swing　goes　on；　the　bubbles　fly　upward；　reflecting　the　most

beautiful　varying　colors。　The　last　still　hangs　from　the　bowl　of　the

pipe；　and　sways　in　the　wind。　On　goes　the　swing；　and　then　a　little

black　dog　comes　running　up。　He　is　almost　as　light　as　the　bubble；　and

he　raises　himself　on　his　hind　legs；　and　wants　to　be　taken　into　the

swing；　but　it　does　not　stop；　and　the　dog　falls；　then　he　barks　and　gets

angry。　The　children　stoop　towards　him；　and　the　bubble　bursts。　A

swinging　plank；　a　light　sparkling　foam　picture；…　that　is　my　story。〃

　　　　〃It　may　be　all　very　pretty　what　you　are　telling　me；〃　said　little

Gerda；　〃but　you　speak　so　mournfully；　and　you　do　not　mention　little　Kay

at　all。〃

　　　　What　do　the　hyacinths　say？　〃There　were　three　beautiful　sisters；

fair　and　delicate。　The　dress　of　one　was　red；　of　the　second　blue；　and

of　the　third　pure　white。　Hand　in　hand　they　danced　in　the　bright

moonlight；　by　the　calm　lake；　but　they　were　human　beings；　not　fairy

elves。　The　sweet　fragrance　attracted　them；　and　they　disappeared　in　the

wood；　here　the　fragrance　became　stronger。　Three　coffins；　in　which

lay　the　three　beautiful　maidens；　glided　from　the　thickest　part　of

the　forest　across　the　lake。　The　fire…flies　flew　lightly　over　them；

like　little　floating　torches。　Do　the　dancing　maidens　sleep；　or　are

they　dead？　The　scent　of　the　flower　says　that　they　are　corpses。　The

evening　bell　tolls　their　knell。〃

　　　　〃You　make　me　quite　sorrowful；〃　said　little　Gerda；　〃your　perfume　is

so　strong；　you　make　me　think　of　the　dead　maidens。　Ah！　is　little　Kay

really　dead　then？　The　roses　have　been　in　the　earth；　and　they　say　no。〃

　　　　〃Cling；　clang；〃　tolled　the　hyacinth　bells。　〃We　are　not　tolling　for

little　Kay；　we　do　not　know　him。　We　sing　our　song；　the　only　one　we

know。〃

　　　　Then　Gerda　went　to　the　buttercups　that　were　glittering　amongst　the

bright　green　leaves。

　　　　〃You　are　little　bright　suns；〃　said　Gerda；　〃tell　me　if　you　know

where　I　can　find　my　play…fellow。〃

　　　　And　the　buttercups　sparkled　gayly；　and　looked　again　at　Gerda。　What

song　could　the　buttercups　sing？　It　was　not　about　Kay。

　　　　〃The　bright　warm　sun　shone　on　a　little　court；　on　the　first　warm

day　of　spring。　His　bright　beams　rested　on　the　white　walls　of　the

neighboring　house；　and　close　by　bloomed　the　first　yellow　flower　of　the

season；　glittering　like　gold　in　the　sun's　warm　ray。　An　old　woman　sat

in　her　arm　chair　at　the　house　door；　and　her　granddaughter；　a　poor

and　pretty　servant…maid　came　to　see　her　for　a　short　visit。　When　she

kissed　her　grandmother　there　was　gold　everywhere：　the　gold　of　the

heart　in　that　holy　kiss；　it　was　a　golden　morning；　there　was　gold　in

the　beaming　sunlight；　gold　in　the　leaves　of　the　lowly　flower；　and　on

the　lips　of　the　maiden。　There；　that　is　my　story；〃　said　the　buttercup。

　　　　〃My　poor　old　grandmother！〃　sighed　Gerda；　〃she　is　long