PART THE FIFTH
THE LITTLE ROBBER MAIDEN
THEY drove through the dark, dark forest; the carriage shone like a torch. Unfortunately its brightness attracted the eyes of the robbers who dwelt in the forest-shades; they could not bear it.
‘That is gold! gold!’ cried they. Forward they rushed, seized the horses, stabbed the outriders, coachman, and footmen to death, and dragged little Gerda out of the carriage.
‘She is plump, she is pretty, she has been fed on nut-kernels,’ said the old robber-wife, who had a long, bristly beard, and eyebrows hanging like bushes over her eyes. ‘She is like a little fat lamb, and how smartly she is dressed!’ and she drew out her bright dagger, glittering most terribly.
‘Oh, oh!’ cried the woman, for at the very moment she had lifted her dagger to stab Gerda, her own wild and wilful daughter jumped upon her back and bit her ear violently. ‘You naughty child!’ said the mother.
‘She shall play with me,’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘she shall give me her muff and her pretty frock, and sleep with me in my bed!’ And then she bit her mother again, till the robber-wife sprang up and shrieked with pain, whilst the robbers all laughed, saying, ‘Look at her playing with her young one!’
‘I will get into the carriage,’ and so spoiled and wayward was the little robber-maiden that she always had her own way, and she and Gerda sat together in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone farther and farther into the wood. The little robber-maiden was about as tall as Gerda, but much stronger; she had broad shoulders, and a very dark skin; her eyes were quite black, and had an expression almost melancholy. She put her arm round Gerda’s waist, and said, ‘She shall not kill thee so long as I love thee! Art thou not a princess?’
‘No!’ said Gerda; and then she told her all that had happened to her, and how much she loved little Kay.
The robber-maiden looked earnestly in her face, shook her head, and said, ‘She shall not kill thee even if I do quarrel with thee; then, indeed, I would rather do it myself!’ And she dried Gerda’s tears, and put both her hands into the pretty muff that was so soft and warm.
The carriage at last stopped in the middle of the courtyard of the robbers’ castle. This castle was half-ruined; crows and ravens flew out of the openings, and some fearfully large bull-dogs, looking as if they could devour a man in a moment, jumped round the carriage; they did not bark, for that was forbidden.
The maidens entered a large, smoky hall, where a tremendous fire was blazing on the stone floor; the smoke rose up to the ceiling, seeking a way of escape, for there was no chimney; a large caldron full of soup was boiling over the fire, whilst hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.
‘Thou shalt sleep with me and my little pets to-night!’ said the robber-maiden. Then they had some food, and afterwards went to the corner wherein lay straw and a piece of carpet. Nearly a hundred pigeons were perched on staves and laths around them; they seemed to be asleep, but were startled when the little maidens approached.
‘These all belong to me,’ said Gerda’s companion, and seizing hold of one of the nearest, she held the poor bird by the feet and swung it. ‘Kiss it,’ said she, flapping it into Gerda’s face. ‘The rabble from the wood sit up there,’ continued she, pointing to a number of laths fastened across a hole in the wall; ‘those are wood-pigeons, they would fly away if I did not keep them shut up. And here is my old favourite!’ She pulled forward by the horn a reindeer who wore a bright copper ring round his neck, by which he was fastened to a large stone. ‘We are obliged to chain him up, or he would run away from us; every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp dagger; it makes him fear me so much!’ and the robber-maiden drew out a long dagger from a gap in the wall, and passed it over the reindeer’s throat; the poor animal struggled and kicked, but the girl laughed, and then she pulled Gerda into bed with her.
‘Will you keep the dagger in your hand whilst you sleep?’ asked Gerda, looking timidly at the dangerous plaything.
‘I always sleep with my dagger by my side,’ replied the little robber-maiden; ‘one never knows what may happen. But now tell me all over again what you told me before about
AND THE NEARER THEY WERE TO THE DOOR THE PROUDER THEY LOOKED
Kay, and the reason of your coming into the wide world all by yourself.’
And Gerda again related her history, and the wood-pigeons imprisoned above listened, but the others were fast asleep. The little robber-maiden threw one arm round Gerda’s neck, and holding the dagger with the other, was also soon asleep; one could hear her heavy breathing, but Gerda could not close her eyes throughout the night—she knew not what would become of her, whether she would even be suffered to live. The robbers sat round the fire drinking and singing. Oh, it was a dreadful night for the poor little girl!
Then spoke the wood-pigeons, ‘Coo, coo, coo! we have seen little Kay. A white fowl carried his sledge, he himself was in the Snow Queen’s chariot, which passed through the wood whilst we sat in our nest. She breathed upon us young ones as she passed, and all died of her breath excepting us two,—coo, coo, coo!’
‘What are you saying?’ cried Gerda; ‘where was the Snow Queen going? Do you know anything about it?’
‘She travels most likely to Lapland, where ice and snow abide all the year round. Ask the reindeer bound to the rope there.’
‘Yes, ice and snow are there all through the year; it is a glorious land!’ said the reindeer. ‘There, free and happy, one can roam through the wide sparkling valleys! There the Snow Queen has her summer-tent; her strong castle is very far off, near the North Pole, on the island called Spitsbergen.’
‘O Kay, dear Kay!’ sighed Gerda.
‘You must lie still,’ said the robber-maiden, ‘or I will thrust my dagger into your side.’
When morning came Gerda repeated to her what the wood-pigeons had said, and the little robber-maiden looked grave for a moment, then nodded her head, saying, ‘No matter! no matter! Do you know where Lapland is?’ asked she of the reindeer.
‘Who should know but I?’ returned the animal, his eyes kindling. ‘There was I born and bred, there how often have I bounded over the wild icy plains!’
‘Listen to me!’ said the robber-maiden to Gerda. ‘You see all our men are gone; my mother is still here and will remain, but towards noon she will drink a little out of the great flask, and after that she will sleep—then I will do something for you!’ And so saying she jumped out of bed, sprang upon her mother, pulled her by the beard, and said, ‘My own dear mam, good morning!’ and the mother caressed her so roughly that she was red and blue all over; however, it was from pure love.
When her mother was fast asleep, the robber-maiden went up to the reindeer, and said, ‘I should have great pleasure in stroking you a few more times with my sharp dagger, for then you look so droll, but never mind, I will unloose your chain and help you to escape, on condition that you run as fast as you can to Lapland, and take this little girl to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You must have heard her story, for she speaks loud enough, and you know well how to listen.’
The reindeer bounded with joy, and the robber-maiden lifted Gerda on his back, taking the precaution to bind her on firmly, as well as to give her a little cushion to sit on. ‘And here,’ said she, ‘are your fur boots, you will need them in that cold country; the muff I must keep myself, it is too pretty to part with; but you shall not be frozen. Here are my mother’s huge gloves, they reach up to the elbow; put them on—now your hands look as clumsy as my old mother’s!’
‘I cannot bear to see you crying!’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘you ought to look glad; see, here are two loaves and a piece of bacon for you, that you may not be hungry on the way.’ She fastened this provender also on the reindeer’s back, opened the door, called away the great dogs, and then cutting asunder with her dagger the rope which bound the reindeer, shouted to him, ‘Now then, run! but take good care of the little girl.’
And Gerda stretched out her hands to the robber-maiden and bade her farewell, and the reindeer fleeted through the forest, over stock and stone, over desert and heath, over meadow and moor. The wolves howled and the ravens shrieked. ‘Isch! Isch!’ a red light flashed—one might have fancied the sky was sneezing.
‘Those are my dear old Northern Lights!’ said the reindeer; ‘look at them, how beautiful they are!’ And he ran faster than ever, night and day he ran—the loaves were eaten, so was the bacon—at last they were in Lapland.
AND FLAPPED HIS BLACK WINGS AT THE CARRIAGE TILL IT WAS OUT OF SIGHT
PART THE SIXTH
THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN
THEY stopped at a little hut, a wretched hut it was; the roof very nearly touched the ground, and the door was so low that whoever wished to go either in or out was obliged to crawl upon hands and knees. No one was at home except the old Lapland woman, who was busy boiling fish over a lamp filled with train oil. The reindeer related to her Gerda’s whole history, not, however, till after he had made her acquainted with his own, which appeared to him of much more importance. Poor Gerda, meanwhile, was so overpowered by the cold that she could not speak.
‘Ah, poor things!’ said the Lapland woman, ‘you have still a long way before you! You have a hundred miles to run before you can arrive in Finland: the Snow Queen dwells there, and burns blue lights every evening. I will write for you a few words on a piece of dried stock-fish—paper I have none—and you may take it with you to the wise Finland woman who lives there; she will advise you better than I can.’
So when Gerda had well warmed herself and taken some food, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried stock-fish, bade Gerda take care of it, and bound her once more firmly on the reindeer’s back.
Onwards they sped, the wondrous Northern Lights, now of the loveliest, brightest blue colour, shone all through the night, and amidst these splendid illuminations they arrived in Finland, and knocked at the chimney of the wise-woman, for door to her house she had none.
Hot, very hot was it within—so much so that the wise-woman wore scarcely any clothing; she was low in stature and very dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda’s dress, took off her fur boots and thick gloves, laid a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and then read what was written on the stock-fish. She read it three times. After the third reading she knew it by heart, and threw the fish into the porridge-pot, for it might make a very excellent supper, and she never wasted anything.
The reindeer then repeated his own story, and when that was finished he told of little Gerda’s adventures, and the wise-woman twinkled her wise eyes, but spoke not a word.
‘Thou art so powerful,’ continued the reindeer, ‘that I know thou canst twist all the winds of the world into a thread, of which if the pilot loosen one knot he will have a favourable wind; if he loosen the second it will blow sharp, and if he loosen the third, so tremendous a storm will arise that the trees of the forest will be uprooted, and the ship wrecked. Wilt thou not mix for this little maiden that wonderful draught which will give her the strength of twelve men, and thus enable her to overcome the Snow Queen?’
‘The strength of twelve men!’ repeated the wise-woman, ‘that would be of much use to be sure!’ and she walked away, drew forth a large parchment roll from a shelf and began to read. What strange characters were seen inscribed on the scroll as the wise-woman slowly unrolled it! She read so intently that the perspiration ran down her forehead.
But the reindeer pleaded so earnestly for little Gerda, and Gerda’s eyes were raised so entreatingly and tearfully, that at last the wise-woman’s eyes began to twinkle again out of sympathy, and she drew the reindeer into a corner, and putting a fresh piece of ice upon his head, whispered thus:
‘Little Kay is still with the Snow Queen, in whose abode everything is according to his taste, and therefore he believes it to be the best place in the world. But that is because he has a glass splinter in his heart, and a glass splinter in his eye—until he has got rid of them he will never feel like a human being, and the Snow Queen will always maintain her influence over him.’
‘But canst thou not give something to little Gerda whereby she may overcome all these evil influences?’
THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN
‘I can give her no power so great as that which she already possesses. Seest thou not how strong she is? Seest thou not that both men and animals must serve her—a poor little girl wandering barefoot through the world? Her power is greater than ours; it proceeds from her heart, from her being a loving and innocent child. If this power which she already possesses cannot give her access to the Snow Queen’s palace, and enable her to free Kay’s eye and heart from the glass fragment, we can do nothing for her! Two miles hence is the Snow Queen’s garden; thither thou canst carry the little maiden. Put her down close by the bush bearing red berries and half covered with snow: lose no time, and hasten back to this place!’
And the wise-woman lifted Gerda on the reindeer’s back, and away they went.
‘Oh, I have left my boots behind! I have left my gloves behind,’ cried little Gerda, when it was too late. The cold was piercing, but the reindeer dared not stop; on he ran until he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set Gerda down, kissed her, the tears rolling down his cheeks the while, and ran fast back again—which was the best thing he could do. And there stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, alone in that barren region, that terribly icy-cold Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could; a whole regiment of snow-flakes came to meet her. They did not fall from the sky, which was cloudless and bright with the Northern Lights; they ran straight along the ground, and the farther Gerda advanced the larger they grew. Gerda then remembered how large and curious the snow-flakes had appeared to her when one day she had looked at them through a burning-glass; these, however, were very much larger, they were living forms, they were in fact the Snow Queen’s guards. Their shapes were the strangest that could be imagined; some looked like great ugly porcupines, others like snakes rolled into knots with their heads peering forth, and others like little fat bears with bristling hair—all, however, were alike dazzlingly white—all were living snow-flakes. Little Gerda began to repeat ‘Our Father’: meanwhile, the cold was so intense that she could see her own breath, which, as it escaped her mouth, ascended into the air like vapour; the cold grew intense, the vapour more dense, and at length took the forms of little bright angels which, as they touched the earth, became larger and more distinct. They wore helmets on their heads, and carried shields and spears in their hands; their number increased so rapidly that, by the time Gerda had finished her prayer, a whole legion stood around her. They thrust with their spears against the horrible snow-flakes, which fell into thousands of pieces, and little Gerda walked on unhurt and undaunted. The angels touched her hands and feet, and then she scarcely felt the cold, and boldly approached the Snow Queen’s palace.
But before we accompany her there, let us see what Kay is doing. He is certainly not thinking of little Gerda; least of all can he imagine that she is now standing at the palace gate.