She ran forward as fast as possible; then came a whole regiment of snowflakes; but they did not fall down from the sky, for that was quite bright, and shone with the Northern Lights:  the snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came, the larger they grew.  Gerda still remembered how large and beautiful the snowflakes had appeared when she had looked at them through the burning glass.  But here they were certainly far larger and much more terrible—­they were alive.  They were advance posts of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes.  A few looked like ugly great porcupines; others like knots formed of snakes, which stretched forth their heads; and others like little fat bears, whose hair stood up on end; all were brilliantly white, all were living snowflakes.

Then little Gerda said her prayer; and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath, which went forth out of her mouth like smoke.  The breath became thicker and thicker, and formed itself into little angels, who grew and grew whenever they touched the earth; and all had helmets on their heads, and shields and spears in their hands.  Their number increased, and when Gerda had finished her prayer a whole legion stood round about her, and struck with their spears at the terrible snowflakes, so that these were shattered into a thousand pieces; and little Gerda could go forward afresh, with good courage.  The angels stroked her hands and feet, and then she felt less how cold it was, and hastened on to the Snow Queen’s palace.

But now we must see what Kay was doing.  He was not thinking of little Gerda, and least of all that she was standing in front of the palace.

[Illustration:  The snow queen’s castle]

THE SEVENTH STORY

OF THE SNOW QUEEN’S CASTLE, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST

The walls of the palace were formed of the drifting snow, and the windows and doors of the cutting winds.  There were more than a hundred halls, all blown together by the snow; the greatest of these extended for several miles; the strong Northern Lights illuminated them all, and how great and empty, how icily cold and shining they all were!  Never was merriment there—­not even a little bear’s ball, at which the storm could have played the music, while the bears walked about on their hind legs and showed off their pretty manners; never any little sport of mouth-slapping or bars-touch; never any little coffee gossip among the young lady white foxes.  Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen.  The Northern Lights flamed so brightly that one could count them where they stood highest and lowest.  In the midst of this immense empty snow hall was a frozen lake, which had burst into a thousand pieces; but each piece was like the rest, so that it was a perfect work of art; and in the middle of the lake sat the Snow Queen, when she was at home, and then she said that she sat in the Mirror of Reason, and that this was the only one, and the best in the world.