“But,” said Gerda, with terror in her eyes, “you are not going to sleep with that long, sharp knife in your hand?”
“Yes, I always do,” replied the robber-girl; “one never knows what may happen. But tell me again all about Kay, and about your journey through the wide world.”
And Gerda told all her story over again. Then the little robber-girl put one arm round Gerda’s neck, and with her long knife in the other, she fell sound asleep.
But Gerda could not sleep. How could she, with that sharp knife close beside her? She would try not to think of it. She would listen to the doves. “Coo, coo,” they said. Then they came nearer.
“We have seen little Kay,” they whispered. “He floated by above our nest in the Snow Queen’s sledge. She blew upon us as she passed, and her icy breath killed many of us.”
“But where was little Kay going? Where does the Snow Queen live?” asked Gerda.
“The reindeer can tell you everything,” said the doves.
“Yes,” said the reindeer, “I can tell you. Little Kay was going to the Snow Queen’s palace, a splendid palace of glittering ice, away in Lapland.”
“Oh, Kay, little Kay!” sighed Gerda.
“Lie still, or I shall stick my knife into you,” said the little robber-girl.