And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes and the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to hum Spring’s song. There was no strength in their voices. In vain they called upon Summer’s sun and Autumn’s cool breezes. There was none that heard their complaint; and they had to submit to the yoke.
Next morning, there was nothing left of the river but a narrow channel; and, when one more night had passed, the bridge was finished. Again the Prince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet was drawn over the river, till it was no longer possible to see where land began and water ended.
But the trees strutted ever so boldly out of the deep snow; and the crows screamed in their tops. The firs and pines had kept all their leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold. Wherever they stood, they acted as a protection against the frost and a shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds found a hospitable refuge under their roofs.
The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily:
“If I could but cow you, if I could but break you!” he said. “You defy me and you irritate me. You stand in the midst of my kingdom keeping guard for Summer and you give shelter to the confounded screechers and screamers who disturb the peace of my land. My ice cannot penetrate to your pith and kill you. If I had only snow enough to bury you, so that, at least, you did not offend my eyes!”
But the trees stood strong under Winter’s wrath and waved their long branches:
“You have taken from us what you can,” they said. “Farther than that your power does not go. We will wait calmly for better times.”
When they had said this, Winter suddenly set eyes upon tiny little buds round about the twigs. He saw the walnut’s spikes, that smacked of spring. He saw the little brown mice trip out for a run in the snow and disappear again into their snug parlours before his eyes. He distinctly heard the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and the crows kept on screaming in his ears. Through his own ice, he saw the noses of the frogs stick up from the bottom of the pond.
He was seized with frenzy:
“Do I dream or am I awake?” he shouted and tore at his beard with both hands. “Are they making a fool of me? Am I the master or not?”