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And, as it seemed to her, blue waves nodded in astrange manner.
Then she took off her red shoes, the most preciousthings she possessed, and threw them both into theriver.
But they fell close to the bank, and the littlewaves bore them immediately to land.
It was as if the stream would not take what was dearest to her, for in reality it had not got littleK.
But Gerda thought that she had not thrown theshoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boatwhich lay among the rushes, went to the farthestend, and threw out the shoes.
But the boat was not fastened, and the motionwhich she occasioned, made it drift from theshore.
She observed this, and hastened to get back, butbefore she could do so, the boat was more than ayard from the land, and was gliding quickly onward.
Little Gerda was very frightened, and began tocry, but no one heard her except the sparrows, andthey could not carry her to land, but they flewalong the bank, and sang as if to comfort her,
Here we are! Here we are! The boat drifted withthe stream, little Gerda sat quite still withoutshoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, butshe could not reach them, because the boat wentmuch faster than they did.
The banks on both sides were beautiful, lovelyflowers, venerable trees, and slopes with sheepand cows, but not a human being was to be seen.
Perhaps the river will carry me to little K, saidshe, and then she grew less sad.
She rose, and looked for many hours at thebeautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by alarge cherry orchard, where was a little cottagewith curious red and blue windows, it was thatched, and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past.
Gerda called to them, for she thought they werealive, but they, of course, did not answer. Shecame close to them, for the stream drifted theboat quite near the land.
Gerda called still louder, and an old woman thencame out of the cottage, leaning upon a crookedstick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on,painted with the most splendid flowers.
Poor little child, said the old woman. How did youget upon the large rapid river, to be driven aboutso in the wide world? And then the old woman wentinto the water, caught hold of the boat with hercrooked stick, drew it to the bank, and liftedlittle Gerda out.
And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again, butshe was rather afraid of the strange old woman.
But come and tell me who you are, and how you camehere, said she. And Gerda told her all, and theold woman shook her head and said, Ahem! Ahem!
And when Gerda had told her everything, and askedher if she had not seen little K, the womananswered that he had not passed there, but he nodoubt would come, and she told her not to be castdown, but taste her cherries,
and look at her flowers, which were finer than anyin a picture-book, each of which could tell awhole story.
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She then took Gerda by the hand, led her into thelittle cottage, and locked the door.
The windows were very high up, the glass was red,blue, and green, and the sunlight shone throughquite wondrously in all sorts of colours.
On the table stood the most exquisite cherries,and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she hadpermission to do so.
While she was eating, the old woman combed herhair with a golden comb, and her hair curled andshone with a lovely golden colour around thatsweet little face, which was so round and so likea rose.
I have often longed for such a dear little girl,said the old woman. Now you shall see how well weagreed together.
And while she combed little Gerda's hair, thechild forgot her foster brother K more and more,for the old woman understood magic, but she was noevil being,
she only practised witchcraft a little for her ownprivate amusement, and now she wanted very much tokeep little Gerda.
She therefore went out in the garden, stretchedout her crooked stick towards the rose bushes,which,
beautifully as they were blowing, all sank intothe earth and no one could tell where they hadstood.
The old woman feared that if Gerda should see theroses, she would then think of her own,
would remember little K and run away from her. Shenow led Gerda into the flower garden.
Oh, what odour and what loveliness was there!Every flower that one could think of, and of every
season, stood there in fullest bloom, no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful.
Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun setbehind the tall cherry tree.
She then had a pretty bed, with a red silken coverlet filled with blue violets.
She fell asleep, and had as pleasant dreams asever a queen on her wedding day.
The next morning she went to play with the flowersin the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day.
Gerda knew every flower, and, numerous as theywere, it still seemed to Gerda that one was
wanting, though she did not know which. One daywhile she was looking at the hat of the old woman
painted with flowers, the most beautiful of themall seemed to her to be a rose. The old woman had
forgotten to take it from her hat when she madethe others vanish in the earth. But so it is when
one's thoughts are not collected. What, said Gerda? Are there no roses here? And she ran about
amongst the flowerbeds, and looked, and looked,but there was not one to be found. She then sat
down and wept, but her hot tears fell just where arosebush had sunk, and when her warm tears
watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly asfresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed
up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her owndear roses at home, and with them of little K.
Oh, how long I have stayed, said the little girl.I intended to look for K. Don't you know where he
is? she asked of the roses. Do you think he isdead and gone? Dead he certainly is not, said the
roses. We have been in the earth where all thedead are, but K. was not there. Many thanks,
said little Gerda, and she went to the otherflowers, looked into their cups, and asked,
don't you know where little K. is? But everyflower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its
own fairy tale or its own story, and they all toldher very many things, but not one knew anything
of K. Well, what did the tiger lily say? Hearestthou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only
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two tones. Always bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintivesong of the old woman, to the call of the
priests. The Hindu woman in her long robe standsupon the funeral pile, the flames rise around her
and her dead husband, but the Hindu woman thinkson a living one in the surrounding circle,
on him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames, onhim, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart
more than the flames which soon will burn her bodyto ashes. Can the heart's flame die in the
flame of the funeral pile? I don't understand thatat all, said little Gerda. That is my story,
said the lily. What did the convulvulus say?Projecting over a narrow mountain path there
hangs an old feudal castle. Thick evergreens growon the dilapidated walls, and around the altar,
where a lovely maiden is standing, she bends overthe railing and looks out upon the rose.
No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she, noapple blossom carried away by the wind is
more buoyant. How her silken robe is rustling! Ishe not yet come? Is it Kay that you mean?
asked little Gerda. I am speaking about my story,about my dream,
answered the convulvulus. What did the snowdropssay? Between the trees a long board is hanging,
it is a swing. Two little girls are sitting in it,and swing themselves backwards and forwards,
their frocks are as white as snow, and long greensilk ribbons flutter from their bonnets.
Their brother, who is older than they are, standsup in the swing, he twines his arms round the
cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he hasa little cup, and in the other a clay pipe.
He is blowing soap bubbles. The swing moves, andthe bubbles float in charming changing colours,
the last is still hanging to the end of the pipe,and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves.
The little black dog, as light as a soap bubble,jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the
swing. It moves, the dog falls down, barks, and isangry. They tease him, the bubble bursts.
A swing, a bursting bubble, such is my song. Whatyou relate may be very pretty,
but you tell it in so melancholy a manner, and donot mention Kay.
What did the hyacinths say? There were once upon atime three sisters, quite transparent,
and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red,that of the second blue, and that of the third
white. They danced hand in hand beside the calmlake and the clear moonshine. They were not elfin
maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrancewas smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood.
The fragrance grew stronger, three coffins, and inthem three lovely maidens, glided out of the
forest and across the lake, the shining glowwormsflew around like little floating lights.
Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead?The odor of the flowers says they are corpses,
the evening bell tolls for the dead. You make mequite sad, said little Gerda.
I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh! Islittle Kay really dead?
The roses have been in the earth, and they say no.Ding, dong! sounded the hyacinth bells.
We do not toll for little Kay, we do not know him.That is our way of singing, the only one
we have. And Gerda went to the ranunculuses, thatlooked forth from among the shining green
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leaves. You are a little bright sun, said Gerda.Tell me if you know where I can find my playfellow.
And the ranunculus shone brightly, and lookedagain at Gerda. What song could the ranunculus
sing? It was one that said nothing about Kayeither. In a small court the bright sun was
shining in the first days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbour's
house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers weregrowing, shining like gold in the warm sunrays.
An old grandmother was sitting in the air, hergranddaughter, the poor and lovely servant just
come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother.There was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed
kiss. There, that is my little story, said the ranunculus. My poor old grandmother, sighed
Gerda. Yes, she is longing for me, no doubt, sheis sorrowing for me, as she did for little Kay.
But I will soon come home, and then I will bringKay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers,
they only know their own old rhymes, and can tellme nothing. And she tucked up her frock,
to enable her to run quicker, but the narcissusgave her a knock on the leg,
just as she was going to jump over it. So shestood still, looked at the long yellow flower,
and asked, you perhaps know something? And shebent down to the narcissus. And what did it say?
I can see myself, I can see myself. Oh, how odorous I am. Up in the little garret there stands,
half-dressed, a little dancer. She stands now onone leg, now on both. She despises the wholeworld,
yet she lives only in imagination. She pours waterout of the teapot over a piece of stuff
which she holds in her hand, it is the bodice,cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is
hanging on the hook, it was washed in the teapot,and dried on the roof. She puts it on,
ties a saffron-coloured kerchief round her neck,and then the gown looks whiter.
I can see myself, I can see myself. That's nothingto me, said little Gerda.
That does not concern me. And then off she ran tothe further end of the garden.
The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolttill it was loosened, and the gate opened,
and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wideworld. She looked round her thrice,
but no one followed her. At last she could run nolonger, she sat down on a large stone,
and when she looked about her, she saw that thesummer had passed, it was late in the autumn,
but that one could not remark in the beautifulgarden, where there was always sunshine,
and where there were flowers the whole year round.
Dear me, how long I have stayed, said Gerda.Autumn is come. I must not rest any longer.
And she got up to go further. Oh, how tender andwearied her little feet were.
All around it looked so cold and raw, the longwillow leaves were quite yellow,
and the fog dripped from them like water, one leaffell after the other,
the sloughs only stood full of fruit, which setone's teeth on edge.
Oh, how dark and comfortless it was in the drearyworld.
