白雪皇后

英语自学网

　白雪皇后
        　　THE SNOW QUEEN
        　　FIRST STORY. Which Treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters
        　　Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall know
        　　more than we know now: but to begin.
        　　Once upon a time there was a wicked sprite, indeed he was the most mischievous
        　　of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humor, for he had made a mirror
        　　with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it was
        　　reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but that which was good-for-nothing
        　　and looked ugly was shown magnified and increased in ugliness. In this mirror
        　　the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons
        　　were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces
        　　were so distorted that they were not to be recognised; and if anyone had a
        　　mole, you might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose
        　　and mouth.
        　　"That's glorious fun!" said the sprite. If a good thought passed through a
        　　man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the sprite laughed
        　　heartily at his clever discovery. All the little sprites who went to his
        　　school--for he kept a sprite school--told each other that a miracle had
        　　happened; and that now only, as they thought, it would be possible to see how
        　　the world really looked. They ran about with the mirror; and at last there was
        　　not a land or a person who was not represented distorted in the mirror. So
        　　then they thought they would fly up to the sky, and have a joke there. The
        　　higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly it grinned: they could
        　　hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and nearer to
        　　the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it
        　　flew out of their hands and fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a
        　　hundred million and more pieces. And now it worked much more evil than before;
        　　for some of these pieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they
        　　flew about in the wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they
        　　stayed; and then people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that
        　　which was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the same power
        　　which the whole mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter in
        　　their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart became like a lump
        　　of ice. Some of the broken pieces were so large that they were used for
        　　windowpanes, through which one could not see one's friends. Other pieces were
        　　put in spectacles; and that was a sad affair when people put on their glasses
        　　to see well and rightly. Then the wicked sprite laughed till he almost choked,
            
            

ensix

分页标题#e#
        　　for all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters still flew about in the
        　　air: and now we shall hear what happened next.
        　　SECOND STORY. A Little Boy and a Little Girl
        　　In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people, that
        　　there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and where, on
        　　this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in
        　　pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a
        　　flower-pot. They were not brother and sister; but they cared for each other as
        　　much as if they were. Their parents lived exactly opposite. They inhabited two
        　　garrets; and where the roof of the one house joined that of the other, and the
        　　gutter ran along the extreme end of it, there was to each house a small
        　　window: one needed only to step over the gutter to get from one window to the
        　　other.
        　　The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for
        　　the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a rose in
        　　each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes
        　　across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other,
        　　and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down
        　　over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined round the
        　　windows, and then bent towards each other: it was almost like a triumphant
        　　arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew
        　　that they must not creep over them; so they often obtained permission to get
        　　out of the windows to each other, and to sit on their little stools among the
        　　roses, where they could play delightfully. In winter there was an end of this
        　　pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; but then they heated copper
        　　farthings on the stove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then
        　　they had a capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a
        　　gentle friendly eye--it was the little boy and the little girl who were
        　　looking out. His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they
        　　could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to go down the
        　　long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and out-of-doors there was
        　　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
            
            

enfive

分页标题#e#
        　　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
            
            

ensix

分页标题#e#
        　　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!"
        　　It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on, and
        　　his little sledge at his back, and bawled right into Gerda's ears, "I have
        　　permission to go out into the square where the others are playing"; and off he
        　　was in a moment.
        　　There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie their
        　　sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled along, and got
            
            

enone

分页标题#e#
        　　a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the very height of their
        　　amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite white, and there was
        　　someone in it wrapped up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white
        　　fur cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on
        　　his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove with it. On they went
        　　quicker and quicker into the next street; and the person who drove turned
        　　round to Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew
        　　each other. Every time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to
        　　him, and then Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside the
        　　gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the little boy
        　　could not see an arm's length before him, but still on he went: when suddenly
        　　he let go the string he held in his hand in order to get loose from the
        　　sledge, but it was of no use; still the little vehicle rushed on with the
        　　quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud as he could, but no one heard
        　　him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as
        　　though they were driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, and
        　　he tried to repeat the Lord's Prayer; but all he could do, he was only able to
        　　remember the multiplication table.
        　　The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just like
        　　great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge stopped,
        　　and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of
        　　snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was
        　　the Snow Queen.
        　　"We have travelled fast," said she; "but it is freezingly cold. Come under my
        　　bearskin." And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round
        　　him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath.
        　　"Are you still cold?" asked she; and then she kissed his forehead. Ah! it was
        　　colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a
        　　frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to die--but a moment more
        　　and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was
        　　around him.
        　　"My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!" It was the first thing he thought of. It
        　　was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with it on his
        　　back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he
        　　forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home.
        　　"Now you will have no more kisses," said she, "or else I should kiss you to
            
            

enthree

分页标题#e#
        　　death!"
        　　Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more lovely
        　　countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer appeared of ice
        　　as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes
        　　she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and told her that he could
        　　calculate in his head and with fractions, even; that he knew the number of
        　　square miles there were in the different countries, and how many inhabitants
        　　they contained; and she smiled while he spoke. It then seemed to him as if
        　　what he knew was not enough, and he looked upwards in the large huge empty
        　　space above him, and on she flew with him; flew high over the black clouds,
        　　while the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing some old tune.
        　　On they flew over woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them
        　　the chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above
        　　them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large
        　　and bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long long winter's
        　　night; while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.
        　　THIRD STORY. Of the Flower-Garden At the Old Woman's Who Understood Witchcraft
        　　But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he be?
        　　Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that
        　　they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which
        　　drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where he was; many sad
        　　tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and bitterly; at last she said he
        　　must be dead; that he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to the
        　　town. Oh! those were very long and dismal winter evenings!
        　　At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.
        　　"Kay is dead and gone!" said little Gerda.
        　　"That I don't believe," said the Sunshine.
        　　"Kay is dead and gone!" said she to the Swallows.
        　　"That I don't believe," said they: and at last little Gerda did not think so
        　　any longer either.
        　　"I'll put on my red shoes," said she, one morning; "Kay has never seen them,
        　　and then I'll go down to the river and ask there."
        　　It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother, who was still asleep, put
        　　on her red shoes, and went alone to the river.
        　　"Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will make you a
        　　present of my red shoes, if you will give him back to me."
        　　And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner; then she
        　　took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed, and threw them
            
            

ensix

分页标题#e#
        　　both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves
        　　bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream would not take what was
        　　dearest to her; for in reality it had not got little Kay; but Gerda thought
        　　that she had not thrown the shoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boat
        　　which lay among the rushes, went to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes.
        　　But the boat was not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it
        　　drift from the shore. She observed this, and hastened to get back; but before
        　　she could do so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding
        　　quickly onward.
        　　Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her
        　　except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew along
        　　the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, "Here we are! Here we are!" The boat
        　　drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without shoes, for they
        　　were swimming behind the boat, but she could not reach them, because the boat
        　　went much faster than they did.
        　　The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees, and
        　　slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.
        　　"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay," said she; and then she grew
        　　less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful green banks.
        　　Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage
        　　with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched, and before it two wooden
        　　soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past.
        　　Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of course,
        　　did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted the boat quite
        　　near the land.
        　　Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the cottage,
        　　leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted
        　　with the most splendid flowers.
        　　"Poor little child!" said the old woman. "How did you get upon the large rapid
        　　river, to be driven about so in the wide world!" And then the old woman went
        　　into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the
        　　bank, and lifted little Gerda out.
        　　And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid of
        　　the strange old woman.
        　　"But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," said she.
        　　And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said, "A-hem!
        　　a-hem!" and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if she had not
        　　seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed there, but he no
            
            

enfour

分页标题#e#
        　　doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down, but taste her
        　　cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than any in a
        　　picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerda by
        　　the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the door.
        　　The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and the
        　　sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table
        　　stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she
        　　had permission to do so. While she was eating, the old woman combed her hair
        　　with a golden comb, and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden color
        　　around that sweet little face, which was so round and so like a rose.
        　　"I have often longed for such a dear little girl," said the old woman. "Now
        　　you shall see how well we agree together"; and while she combed little Gerda's
        　　hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old woman
        　　understood magic; but she was no evil being, she only practised witchcraft a
        　　little for her own private amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep
        　　little Gerda. She therefore went out in the garden, stretched out her crooked
        　　stick towards the rose-bushes, which, beautifully as they were blowing, all
        　　sank into the earth and no one could tell where they had stood. The old woman
        　　feared that if Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of her own,
        　　would remember little Kay, and run away from her.
        　　She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what loveliness
        　　was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every season, stood
        　　there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful.
        　　Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind the tall cherry-tree;
        　　she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken coverlet filled with blue
        　　violets. She fell asleep, and had as pleasant dreams as ever a queen on her
        　　wedding-day.
        　　The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and
        　　thus passed away a day. Gerda knew every flower; and, numerous as they were,
        　　it still seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she did not know which.
        　　One day while she was looking at the hat of the old woman painted with
        　　flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be a rose. The old
        　　woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made the others vanish in
        　　the earth. But so it is when one's thoughts are not collected. "What!" said
        　　Gerda. "Are there no roses here?" and she ran about amongst the flowerbeds,
        　　and looked, and looked, but there was not one to be found. She then sat down
            
            

enthree

分页标题#e#
        　　and wept; but her hot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk; and when her
        　　warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly as fresh and blooming
        　　as when it had been swallowed up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her own
        　　dear roses at home, and with them of little Kay.
        　　"Oh, how long I have stayed!" said the little girl. "I intended to look for
        　　Kay! Don't you know where he is?" she asked of the roses. "Do you think he is
        　　dead and gone?"
        　　"Dead he certainly is not," said the Roses. "We have been in the earth where
        　　all the dead are, but Kay was not there."
        　　"Many thanks!" said little Gerda; and she went to the other flowers, looked
        　　into their cups, and asked, "Don't you know where little Kay is?"
        　　But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its own fairy tale or its
        　　own story: and they all told her very many things, but not one knew anything
        　　of Kay.
        　　Well, what did the Tiger-Lily say?
        　　"Hearest thou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only two tones. Always
        　　bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the call of the
        　　priests! The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile; the
        　　flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman thinks on
        　　the living one in the surrounding circle; on him whose eyes burn hotter than
        　　the flames--on him, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart more than the
        　　flames which soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the heart's flame die in
        　　the flame of the funeral pile?"
        　　"I don't understand that at all," said little Gerda.
        　　"That is my story," said the Lily.
        　　What did the Convolvulus say?
        　　"Projecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an old feudal castle.
        　　Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated walls, and around the altar, where a
        　　lovely maiden is standing: she bends over the railing and looks out upon the
        　　rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she; no appleblossom carried
        　　away by the wind is more buoyant! How her silken robe is rustling!
        　　"'Is he not yet come?'"
        　　"Is it Kay that you mean?" asked little Gerda.
        　　"I am speaking about my story--about my dream," answered the Convolvulus.
        　　What did the Snowdrops say?
        　　"Between the trees a long board is hanging--it is a swing. Two little girls
        　　are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards; their frocks
        　　are as white as snow, and long green silk ribands flutter from their bonnets.
        　　Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing; he twines
            
            

entwo

分页标题#e#
        　　his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little
        　　cup, and in the other a clay-pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles. The swing
        　　moves, and the bubbles float in charming changing colors: the last is still
        　　hanging to the end of the pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The
        　　little black dog, as light as a soap-bubble, jumps up on his hind legs to try
        　　to get into the swing. It moves, the dog falls down, barks, and is angry. They
        　　tease him; the bubble bursts! A swing, a bursting bubble--such is my song!"
        　　"What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a
        　　manner, and do not mention Kay."
        　　What do the Hyacinths say?
        　　"There were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent, and very
        　　beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and that of
        　　the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear
        　　moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrance
        　　was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood; the fragrance grew
        　　stronger--three coffins, and in them three lovely maidens, glided out of the
        　　forest and across the lake: the shining glow-worms flew around like little
        　　floating lights. Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The odour of
        　　the flowers says they are corpses; the evening bell tolls for the dead!"
        　　"You make me quite sad," said little Gerda. "I cannot help thinking of the
        　　dead maidens. Oh! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been in the earth,
        　　and they say no."
        　　"Ding, dong!" sounded the Hyacinth bells. "We do not toll for little Kay; we
        　　do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we have."
        　　And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth from among the shining
        　　green leaves.
        　　"You are a little bright sun!" said Gerda. "Tell me if you know where I can
        　　find my playfellow."
        　　And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What song could
        　　the Ranunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay either.
        　　"In a small court the bright sun was shining in the first days of spring. The
        　　beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and close by the
        　　fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun-rays. An
        　　old grandmother was sitting in the air; her grand-daughter, the poor and
        　　lovely servant just come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother. There
        　　was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed kiss. There, that is my little
        　　story," said the Ranunculus.
        　　"My poor old grandmother!" sighed Gerda. "Yes, she is longing for me, no