“It must be the Snow Queen,” thought Kay, and at that moment the white lady nodded to him, and waved her hand, and as he jumped from his chair, he fancied she flew past the window. “It must be the Snow Queen.” Would he ever see her again?
At last the white winter melted away and green spring burst upon the earth. Then once more summer—warm, bright, beautiful summer.
It was at five o’clock, one sunny afternoon, that Kay and Gerda sat together on their little stools in the balcony, looking at a picture-book.
“Oh!” cried Kay suddenly, “oh, there is something sharp in my eye, and I have such a pain in my heart!”
Gerda put her arms round Kay’s neck and looked into his eye.
“I can see nothing, Kay dear.”
“Oh! it is gone now,” said the boy, and they turned again to the picture-book.
But something had flown into Kay’s eye, and it was not gone; a little bit had reached his heart, and it was still there. Listen, and I will tell you what had happened.
There was about this time a most marvelous mirror in the world. It belonged to the worst hobgoblin that ever lived, and had been made by his wicked little demons.
Those who looked into this mirror saw reflected there all the mean and ugly people and things in the world, and not one beautiful sight could they see. And the thoughts of those who looked into this mirror became as mean and ugly as the people and things they saw.