Kay looked at her, she was so beautiful; a more intelligent, more lovely countenance, he could not imagine; she no longer appeared to him ice, cold ice as at the time when she sat outside the window and beckoned to him; in his eyes she was perfect; he felt no fear. He told her how well he could reckon in his head, even fractions; that he knew the number of square miles of every country, and the number of the inhabitants contained in different towns. She smiled, and then it occurred to him that, after all, he did not yet know so very much. He looked up into the wide, wide space, and she flew with him high up into the black cloud while the storm was raging; it seemed now to Kay as though singing songs of olden time. They flew over woods and over lakes, over sea and over land; beneath them the cold wind whistled, the wolves howled, the snow glittered, and the black crow flew cawing over the plain, whilst above them shone the moon, so clear and tranquil. Thus did Kay spend the long, long winter night; all day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. [Illustration: SHE WORE A LARGE HAT, WITH MOST BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS PAINTED ON IT] PART THE THIRD THE ENCHANTED FLOWER-GARDEN But how fared it with little Gerda when Kay never returned? Where could he be? No one knew, no one could give any account of him. The boy said that they had seen him fasten his sledge to another larger and very handsome one which had driven into the street, and thence through the gates of the town. No one knew where he was, and many were the tears that were shed; little Gerda wept much and long, for the boys said he must be dead, he must have been drowned in the river that flowed not far from the town. Oh, how long and dismal the winter days were now! At last came the spring, with its warm sunshine. ‘Alas, Kay is dead and gone,’ said little Gerda. ‘That I do not believe,’ said the sunshine. ‘He is dead and gone,’ said she to the swallows. ‘That we do not believe,’ returned they, and at last little Gerda herself did not believe it. ‘I will put on my new red shoes,’ said she one morning, ‘those which Kay has never seen, and then I will go down to the river and ask after him.’ It was quite early. She kissed her old grandmother, who was still sleeping, put on her red shoes, and went alone through the gates of the town towards the river. ‘Is it true,’ said she, ‘that thou hast taken my little playfellow away? I will give thee my red shoes if thou wilt restore him to me!’