‘We have come along at a good pace,’ she said; ’but it’s cold enough to kill one; creep inside my bearskin coat.’

She took him into the sledge by her, wrapped him in her furs, and he felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.

‘Are you still cold?’ she asked, and she kissed him on the forehead.  Ugh! it was colder than ice, it went to his very heart, which was already more than half ice; he felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment, and then it seemed to have done him good; he no longer felt the cold.

‘My sledge! don’t forget my sledge!’ He only remembered it now; it was tied to one of the white chickens which flew along behind them.  The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda, Grandmother, and all the others at home.

‘Now I mustn’t kiss you any more,’ she said, ’or I should kiss you to death!’

Kay looked at her, she was so pretty; a cleverer, more beautiful face could hardly be imagined.  She did not seem to be made of ice now, as she was outside the window when she waved her hand to him.  In his eyes she was quite perfect, and he was not a bit afraid of her; he told her that he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants of the country.  She always smiled at him, and he then thought that he surely did not know enough, and he looked up into the wide expanse of heaven, into which they rose higher and higher as she flew with him on a dark cloud, while the storm surged around them, the wind ringing in their ears like well-known old songs.

They flew over woods and lakes, over oceans and islands; the cold wind whistled down below them, the wolves howled, the black crows flew screaming over the sparkling snow, but up above, the moon shone bright and clear—­and Kay looked at it all the long, long winter nights; in the day he slept at the Snow Queen’s feet.

STORY THREE

THE GARDEN OF THE WOMAN LEARNED IN MAGIC

[Illustration:  Then an old, old woman came out of the house; she was leaning upon a big, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was covered with beautiful painted flowers.]

But how was little Gerda getting on all this long time since Kay left her?  Where could he be?  Nobody knew, nobody could say anything about him.  All that the other boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his little sledge to a splendid big one which drove away down the street and out of the town gates.  Nobody knew where he was, and many tears were shed; little Gerda cried long and bitterly.  At last, people said he was dead; he must have fallen into the river which ran close by the town.  Oh, what long, dark, winter days those were!

At last the spring came and the sunshine.

‘Kay is dead and gone,’ said little Gerda.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said the sunshine.