‘Now I must fly to warmer countries,’ said the Snow-queen. ‘I must go and powder my black kettles!’ (This was what she called Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius.) ‘It does the lemons and grapes good.’
And off she flew, and Kay sat alone in the great hall trying to do his puzzle.
He sat so still that you would have thought he was frozen.
Then it happened that little Gerda stepped into the hall. The biting cold winds became quiet as if they had fallen asleep when she appeared in the great, empty, freezing hall.
She caught sight of Kay; she recognised him, and ran and put her arms round his neck, crying, ‘Kay! dear little Kay! I have found you at last!’
But he sat quite still and cold. Then Gerda wept hot tears which fell on his neck and thawed his heart and swept away the bit of the looking-glass. He looked at her and then he burst into tears. He cried so much that the glass splinter swam out of his eye; then he knew her, and cried out, ‘Gerda! dear little Gerda! Where have you been so long? and where have I been?’
And he looked round him.
‘How cold it is here! How wide and empty!’ and he threw himself on Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was such a happy time that the pieces of ice even danced round them for joy, and when they were tired and lay down again they formed themselves into the letters that the Snow-queen had said he must spell in order to become his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates.
And Gerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy; she kissed his eyes and they sparkled like hers; she kissed his hands and feet and he became warm and glowing. The Snow-queen might come home now; his release—the word ‘Love’—stood written in sparkling ice.
They took each other’s hands and wandered out of the great palace; they talked about the grandmother and the roses on the leads, wherever they came the winds hushed and the sun came out. When they reached the bush with red berries there stood the reindeer waiting for them.