The roses out on the roof were in full bloom and peeped in at the
window, and there stood the little chairs on which they had sat when
children, and Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair
and held each other by the hand, while the cold, empty grandeur of the
Snow Queen's palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream. The grandmother sat in God's bright sunshine, and she read aloud from
the Bible, "Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise
enter into the kingdom of God." And Kay and Gerda looked into each
other's eyes and all at once understood the words of the old song:

          Roses bloom and fade away,
          But we the Christ-child see alway. And they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart, and it was
summer--warm, beautiful summer. [Illustration]




THE ROSES AND THE SPARROWS


IT really appeared as if something very important were going on by the
duck pond, but this was not the case. A few minutes before, all the ducks had been resting on the water or
standing on their heads--for that they can do--and then they all swam in
a bustle to the shore. The traces of their feet could be seen on the wet
earth, and far and wide could be heard their quacking. The water, so
lately clear and bright as a mirror, was in quite a commotion. But a moment before, every tree and bush near the old farmhouse--and
even the house itself with the holes in the roof and the swallows' nests
and, above all, the beautiful rosebush covered with roses--had been
clearly reflected in the water. The rosebush on the wall hung over the
water, which resembled a picture only that everything appeared upside
down, but when the water was set in motion all vanished, and the picture
disappeared. Two feathers, dropped by the fluttering ducks, floated to and fro on the
water. All at once they took a start as if the wind were coming, but it
did not come, so they were obliged to lie still, as the water became
again quiet and at rest. The roses could once more behold their own
reflections. They were very beautiful, but they knew it not, for no one
had told them. The sun shone between the delicate leaves, and the sweet
fragrance spread itself, carrying happiness everywhere. "How beautiful is our existence!" said one of the roses. "I feel as if I
should like to kiss the sun, it is so bright and warm. I should like to
kiss the roses too, our images in the water, and the pretty birds there
in their nests. There are some birds too in the nest above us; they
stretch out their heads and cry 'Tweet, tweet,' very faintly. They have
no feathers yet, such as their father and mother have. Both above us and
below us we have good neighbors. How beautiful is our life!" The young birds above and the young ones below were the same; they were
sparrows, and their nest was reflected in the water. Their parents were
sparrows also, and they had taken possession of an empty swallow's nest
of the year before, occupying it now as if it were their own. "Are those ducks' children that are swimming about? asked the young
sparrows, as they spied the feathers on the water. "If you must ask questions, pray ask sensible ones," said the mother. "Can you not see that these are feathers, the living stuff for clothes,
which I wear and which you will wear soon, only ours are much finer? I
should like, however, to have them up here in the nest, they would make
it so warm. I am rather curious to know why the ducks were so alarmed
just now. It could not be from fear of us, certainly, though I did say
'tweet' rather loudly. The thick-headed roses really ought to know, but
they are very ignorant; they only look at one another and smell. I am
heartily tired of such neighbors." "Listen to the sweet little birds above us," said the roses; "they are
trying to sing. They cannot manage it yet, but it will be done in time. What a pleasure it will be, and how nice to have such lively neighbors!" Suddenly two horses came prancing along to drink at the water. A peasant
boy rode on one of them; he had a broad-brimmed black hat on, but had
taken off the most of his clothes, that he might ride into the deepest
part of the pond; he whistled like a bird, and while passing the
rosebush he plucked a rose and placed it in his hat and then rode on
thinking himself very fine. The other roses looked at their sister and
asked each other where she could be going, but they did not know. "I should like for once to go out into the world," said one, "although
it is very lovely here in our home of green leaves. The sun shines
warmly by day, and in the night we can see that heaven is more beautiful
still, as it sparkles through the holes in the sky." She meant the stars, for she knew no better. "We make the house very lively," said the mother sparrow, "and people
say that a swallow's nest brings luck, therefore they are pleased to
see us; but as to our neighbors, a rosebush on the wall produces damp. It will most likely be removed, and perhaps corn will grow here instead
of it. Roses are good for nothing but to be looked at and smelt, or
perhaps one may chance to be stuck in a hat. I have heard from my mother
that they fall off every year. The farmer's wife preserves them by
laying them in salt, and then they receive a French name which I neither
can nor will pronounce; then they are sprinkled on the fire to produce a
pleasant smell. Such you see is their life. They are only formed to
please the eye and the nose. Now you know all about them." As the evening approached, the gnats played about in the warm air
beneath the rosy clouds, and the nightingale came and sang to the roses
that _the beautiful_ was like sunshine to the world, and that _the
beautiful_ lives forever. The roses thought that the nightingale was
singing of herself, which any one indeed could easily suppose; they
never imagined that her song could refer to them. But it was a joy to
them, and they wondered to themselves whether all the little sparrows in
the nest would become nightingales. "We understood that bird's song very well," said the young sparrows,
"but one word was not clear. What is _the beautiful_?" "Oh, nothing of any consequence," replied the mother sparrow. "It is
something relating to appearances over yonder at the nobleman's house. The pigeons have a house of their own, and every day they have corn and
peas spread for them. I have dined there with them sometimes, and so
shall you by and by, for I believe the old maxim--'Tell me what company
you keep, and I will tell you what you are.' Well, over at the noble
house there are two birds with green throats and crests on their heads. They can spread out their tails like large wheels, and they reflect so
many beautiful colors that it dazzles the eyes to look at them. These
birds are called peacocks, and they belong to _the beautiful_; but if
only a few of their feathers were plucked off, they would not appear
better than we do. I would myself have plucked some out had they not
been so large."