was made of ice, dazzling, glittering ice; still, she was alive, her eyes sparkled like two bright stars, but there was no repose or rest in them. She nodded toward the windows and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened and jumped down from the chair, and just then it seemed as if a large bird flew past outside the window.
Next day it was clear frosty weather, and then came the thaw, and at last the spring; the sun shone, the green shoots burst forth, the swallows built their nests, the windows were opened and the two little children were again sitting in their little garden high up in the gutter on the roof.
The roses blossomed most beautifully that summer; the little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was something about roses, and that made her think of her own roses, and so she sang it to the little boy, who also joined in, and together they sang:
"The roses grow in the valley,
Where the Christ-Child we shall see."
And the little ones held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, and looked up at God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Christ-Child were there. What beautiful summer days they were, what a blessing to be near the fresh rose-trees, which seemed never to cease blossoming.
Kay and Gerda sat looking in the picture book of animals and birds, when just at that moment the clock in the great church tower struck five. Kay exclaimed: "Oh dear! I feel as if something had stabbed my heart! And now I've got something into my eye!"
The little girl put her arms round his neck; he blinked his eye, but no — there was nothing to be seen.
"I think it is gone!" he said; but it was not gone. It was one of the glass pieces from the mirror, the troll-mirror, which you no doubt remember, the horrible mirror, in which everything great and good that was reflected in it became small and ugly, while everything bad and wicked became more distinct and prominent and every fault was at once noticed. Poor Kay had got one of the fragments right into his heart. It would soon become like a lump of ice. It did not cause him any pain, but it was there.
"Why do you cry?" he asked. "And you look so ugly! There is nothing the matter with me! Fie!" he cried suddenly, "that rose is worm-eaten! And look! why, it is quite crooked! They are ugly roses after all, just like the boxes they are in!" And then he kicked the box with his foot, and knocked off two roses.
"Kay, what are you doing?" cried the girl; and when he saw her fright he knocked off another rose and rushed through his window away from the good little Gerda.
