And Gerda wept for joy.

“I can’t bear to see you fretting,” said the little robber maiden.  “This is just the time when you ought to look pleased.  Here are two loaves and a ham for you, so that you won’t starve.”  The bread and the meat were fastened to the Reindeer’s back; the little maiden opened the door, called in all the dogs, and then with her knife cut the rope that fastened the animal, and said to him, “Now, off with you; but take good care of the little girl!”

And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large wadded gloves towards the robber maiden, and said, “Farewell!” and the Reindeer flew on over bush and bramble through the great wood, over moor and heath, as fast as he could go.

“Ddsa!  Ddsa!” was heard in the sky.  It was just as if somebody was sneezing.

“These are my old northern-lights,” said the Reindeer, “look how they gleam!” And on he now sped still quicker—­day and night on he went:  the loaves were consumed, and the ham too; and now they were in Lapland.

Sixth story.  The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman

Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked very miserable.  The roof reached to the ground; and the door was so low, that the family were obliged to creep upon their stomachs when they went in or out.  Nobody was at home except an old Lapland woman, who was dressing fish by the light of an oil lamp.  And the Reindeer told her the whole of Gerda’s history, but first of all his own; for that seemed to him of much greater importance.  Gerda was so chilled that she could not speak.

“Poor thing,” said the Lapland woman, “you have far to run still.  You have more than a hundred miles to go before you get to Finland; there the Snow Queen has her country-house, and burns blue lights every evening.  I will give you a few words from me, which I will write on a dried haberdine, for paper I have none; this you can take with you to the Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more information than I can.”

When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on the Reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the animal.  “Ddsa!  Ddsa!” was again heard in the air; the most charming blue lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they came to Finland.  They knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman; for as to a door, she had none.

There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman herself went about almost naked.  She was diminutive and dirty.  She immediately loosened little Gerda’s clothes, pulled off her thick gloves and boots; for otherwise the heat would have been too great—­and after laying a piece of ice on the Reindeer’s head, read what was written on the fish-skin.  She read it three times:  she then knew it by heart; so she put the fish into the cupboard—­for it might very well be eaten, and she never threw anything away.