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painted flowers on it； she saw that the prettiest of them all was a
rose。 The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she
made all the roses sink into the earth。 But it is difficult to keep
the thoughts together in everything； one little mistake upsets all our
arrangements。
〃What； are there no roses here？〃 cried Gerda； and she ran out into
the garden； and examined all the beds； and searched and searched。
There was not one to be found。 Then she sat down and wept； and her
tears fell just on the place where one of the rose…trees had sunk
down。 The warm tears moistened the earth； and the rose…tree sprouted
up at once； as blooming as when it had sunk； and Gerda embraced it and
kissed the roses； and thought of the beautiful roses at home； and；
with them； of little Kay。
〃Oh； how I have been detained！〃 said the little maiden； 〃I
wanted to seek for little Kay。 Do you know where he is？〃 she asked the
roses； 〃do you think he is dead？〃
And the roses answered； 〃No； he is not dead。 We have been in the
ground where all the dead lie； but Kay is not there。〃
〃Thank you；〃 said little Gerda； and then she went to the other
flowers； and looked into their little cups； and asked； 〃Do you know
where little Kay is？〃 But each flower； as it stood in the sunshine；
dreamed only of its own little fairy tale of history。 Not one knew
anything of Kay。 Gerda heard many stories from the flowers； as she
asked them one after another about him。
And what； said the tiger…lily？ 〃Hark； do you hear the drum？ …
'turn； turn；'… there are only two notes； always； 'turn； turn。'
Listen to the women's song of mourning！ Hear the cry of the priest！ In
her long red robe stands the Hindoo widow by the funeral pile。 The
flames rise around her as she places herself on the dead body of her
husband； but the Hindoo woman is thinking of the living one in that
circle； of him； her son； who lighted those flames。 Those shining
eyes trouble her heart more painfully than the flames which will
soon consume her body to ashes。 Can the fire of the heart be
extinguished in the flames of the funeral pile？〃
〃I don't understand that at all；〃 said little Gerda。
〃That is my story；〃 said the tiger…lily。
What； says the convolvulus？ 〃Near yonder narrow road stands an old
knight's castle； thick ivy creeps over the old ruined walls； leaf over
leaf； even to the balcony； in which stands a beautiful maiden。 She
bends over the balustrades； and looks up the road。 No rose on its stem
is fresher than she； no apple…blossom； wafted by the wind； floats more
lightly than she moves。 Her rich silk rustles as she bends over and
exclaims； 'Will he not come？'
〃Is it Kay you mean？〃 asked Gerda。
〃I am only speaking of a story of my dream；〃 replied the flower。
What； said the little snow…drop？ 〃Between two trees a rope is
hanging； there is a piece of board upon it； it is a swing。 Two
pretty little girls； in dresses white as snow； and with long green
ribbons fluttering from their hats； are sitting upon it swinging。
Their brother who is taller than they are； stands in the swing； he has
one arm round the rope； to steady himself； in one hand he holds a
little bowl； and in the other a clay pipe； he is blowing bubbles。 As
the swing goes on； the bubbles fly upward； reflecting the most
beautiful varying colors。 The last still hangs from the bowl of the
pipe； and sways in the wind。 On goes the swing； and then a little
black dog comes running up。 He is almost as light as the bubble； and
he raises himself on his hind legs； and wants to be taken into the
swing； but it does not stop； and the dog falls； then he barks and gets
angry。 The children stoop towards him； and the bubble bursts。 A
swinging plank； a light sparkling foam picture；… that is my story。〃
〃It may be all very pretty what you are telling me；〃 said little
Gerda； 〃but you speak so mournfully； and you do not mention little Kay
at all。〃
What do the hyacinths say？ 〃There were three beautiful sisters；
fair and delicate。 The dress of one was red； of the second blue； and
of the third pure white。 Hand in hand they danced in the bright
moonlight； by the calm lake； but they were human beings； not fairy
elves。 The sweet fragrance attracted them； and they disappeared in the
wood； here the fragrance became stronger。 Three coffins； in which
lay the three beautiful maidens； glided from the thickest part of
the forest across the lake。 The fire…flies flew lightly over them；
like little floating torches。 Do the dancing maidens sleep； or are
they dead？ The scent of the flower says that they are corpses。 The
evening bell tolls their knell。〃
〃You make me quite sorrowful；〃 said little Gerda； 〃your perfume is
so strong； you make me think of the dead maidens。 Ah！ is little Kay
really dead then？ The roses have been in the earth； and they say no。〃
〃Cling； clang；〃 tolled the hyacinth bells。 〃We are not tolling for
little Kay； we do not know him。 We sing our song； the only one we
know。〃
Then Gerda went to the buttercups that were glittering amongst the
bright green leaves。
〃You are little bright suns；〃 said Gerda； 〃tell me if you know
where I can find my play…fellow。〃
And the buttercups sparkled gayly； and looked again at Gerda。 What
song could the buttercups sing？ It was not about Kay。
〃The bright warm sun shone on a little court； on the first warm
day of spring。 His bright beams rested on the white walls of the
neighboring house； and close by bloomed the first yellow flower of the
season； glittering like gold in the sun's warm ray。 An old woman sat
in her arm chair at the house door； and her granddaughter； a poor
and pretty servant…maid came to see her for a short visit。 When she
kissed her grandmother there was gold everywhere： the gold of the
heart in that holy kiss； it was a golden morning； there was gold in
the beaming sunlight； gold in the leaves of the lowly flower； and on
the lips of the maiden。 There； that is my story；〃 said the buttercup。
〃My poor old grandmother！〃 sighed Gerda； 〃she is longing to see
me； and grieving for me as she did for little Kay； but I shall soon go
home now； and take little Kay with me。 It is no use asking the
flowers； they know only their own songs； and can give me no
information。〃
And then she tucked up her little dress； that she might run
faster； but the narcissus caught her by the leg as she was jumping
over it； so she stopped and looked at the tall yellow flower； and
said； 〃Perhaps you may know something。〃
Then she stooped down quite close to the flower； and listened； and
what did he say？
〃I can see myself； I can see myself；〃 said the narcissus。 〃Oh； how
sweet is my perfume！ Up in a little room with a bow window； stands a
little dancing girl； half undressed； she stands sometimes on one
leg； and sometimes on both； and looks as if she would tread the
whole world under her feet。 She is nothing but a delusion。 She is
pouring water out of a tea…pot on a piece of stuff which she holds
in her hand； it is her bodice。 'Cleanliness is a good thing；' she