quite a snow-storm.

"It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.

"Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the
honey-bees always have one.

"Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest
clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the
earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she
flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they
then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers."

"Yes, I have seen it," said both the children; and so they knew that it was
true.

"Can the Snow Queen come in?" said the little girl.

"Only let her come in!" said the little boy. "Then I'd put her on the stove,
and she'd melt."

And then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.

In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up
on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few
snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the
edge of a flower-pot.

The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young
lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like
stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling,
sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars; but
there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and jumped down from
the chair; it seemed to him as if, at the same moment, a large bird flew past
the window.

The next day it was a sharp frost--and then the spring came; the sun shone,
the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the windows were
opened, and the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on
the leads at the top of the house.

That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The little girl had learned
a hymn, in which there was something about roses; and then she thought of her
own flowers; and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then sang it with
her:

"The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet,
And angels descend there the children to greet."

And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked up at
the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels there. What
lovely summer-days those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near the
fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never finish blossoming!

Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts and of birds; and it
was then--the clock in the church-tower was just striking five--that Kay said,
"Oh! I feel such a sharp pain in my heart; and now something has got into my
eye!"

The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eyes; now there
was nothing to be seen.

"I think it is out now," said he; but it was not. It was just one of those
pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye; and poor Kay
had got another piece right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It did
not hurt any longer, but there it was.

"What are you crying for?" asked he. "You look so ugly! There's nothing the
matter with me. Ah," said he at once, "that rose is cankered! And look, this
one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly! They are just like
the box they are planted in!" And then he gave the box a good kick with his
foot, and pulled both the roses up.

"What are you doing?" cried the little girl; and as he perceived her fright,
he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened off from dear
little Gerda.

Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, "What horrid beasts
have you there?" And if his grandmother told them stories, he always
interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, put
on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he copied all her ways,
and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate the gait and
manner of everyone in the street. Everything that was peculiar and displeasing
in them--that Kay knew how to imitate: and at such times all the people said,
"The boy is certainly very clever!" But it was the glass he had got in his
eye; the glass that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease even
little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him.

His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they were
so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were flying about,
he spread the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell.

"Look through this glass, Gerda," said he. And every flake seemed larger, and
appeared like a magnificent flower, or beautiful star; it was splendid to look
at!

"Look, how clever!" said Kay. "That's much more interesting than real flowers!
They are as exact as possible; there is not a fault in them, if they did not
melt!"


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