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- Стр. 7/22
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"
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
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
!
Do
n'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
,
"
Do
n'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
?
"
