Снежная королева / The Snow Queen

Next day was clear and frosty, and after that came spring-time; the swallows built their nests, the windows were open, and the children sat once more in their little garden.

What lovely summer days were those, and how nice it was to be out among the fresh rose bushes!

Kay and Gerda were looking at a picture book with beasts and birds in it, and then—just as the clock in the great church tower was striking five—Kay said, “Oh! Something pricked my heart, and I’ve just got something in my eye!”

The little girl put her arm round his neck, and he winked his eye^[6], but no, there was nothing to be seen. “I think it’s gone,” he said, but it wasn’t. It was one of those tiny bits of the troll-glass. Poor Kay! He had got a piece of it right into his heart, and it started to turn into ice.

“What are you crying for?” he asked. “It makes you look ugly!” Then he looked at the roses. “That rose is worm-eaten! And look at that other, it’s all crooked. Rotten roses they are, after all, like the boxes they’re in.^[7]” With that he gave the box a hard kick and pulled off the two roses. “What are you doing, Kay?” cried the little girl; and when he saw she was frightened, he pulled off a third rose, and ran home, leaving dear little Gerda. Later, when she brought him the picture book, he said, “it was only fit for babies”, and when grandmother told them stories, he was always interrupting. The bit of glass he had got in his eye and the bit he had in his heart made him tease everyone, even little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart.

One winter day, Kay came in with his sledge hung on his back; he shouted to Gerda, “I’m going to the big square where the others are playing,” and he was off.

Out there in the square the boldest of the boys often used to tie their sledges to a farmer’s cart and drive a good long way^[8] with it. It was excellent fun. This time, a large sledge came by; it was painted white all over, and in it was someone wrapped in white fur and wearing a white cap. This sledge drove twice round the square, and little Kay tied his own little sledge to it, and drove off with it. Faster and faster it went, into the next street. The driver turned his head and nodded to Kay in a friendly way; it seemed as if they knew each other. Every time Kay thought of loosing his sledge the driver nodded again, so Kay stayed where he was: and they drove right out through the town gate. Then the snow began to fall so thick that the boy couldn’t see anything; and he tried to untie the rope so as to let go^[9] of the big sledge. But it made no difference, his sledge was tied well, and it went like the wind. He called out loudly, but no one heard, and the snow drifted down and the sledge flew onward. He was very scared.

Suddenly the storm stopped, the big sledge pulled up^[10], and the person who was driving in it rose. The fur and the cap were all of snow: it was a lady, tall and shining white—the Snow Queen.

“We have travelled well,” said she; “but you mustn’t freeze. Creep into my bearskin.” She put him beside her in the sledge. “Are you still cold?” she asked, and kissed him on the forehead. It was colder than ice, and struck straight to his heart. And after that, he didn’t notice the cold anymore.

Once more the Snow Queen kissed Kay, and he had forgotten little Gerda and grandmother and everyone at home.

“No more kisses now,” said she, “or I should kiss you to death.” Kay looked at her; she was very pretty. She wasn’t scary anymore. In his eyes she was perfect, and he felt no fear. Kay looked at the immense spaces of the air^[11], and they flew high among the dark clouds, and the storm wind whistled and roared as if it were singing old ballads. They flew over forest and lake, sea and land: below them the wolves howled; above them flew the black crows, and over all shone the moon^[12], large and bright.