But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little
Gerda, and never supposed she could be standing in the front of the palace.
Seventh Story: Of the Palace of the Snow Queen and What Happened
There At Last
The walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the windows
and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it,
all as if they had been formed with snow blown together. The largest of
them extended for several miles; they were all lighted up by the vivid light
of the aurora, and they were so large and empty, so icy cold and glittering!
There were no amusements here, not even a little bear’s ball, when the
storm might have been the music, and the bears could have danced on their
hind legs, and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of
snap-dragon, or touch, or even a gossip over the tea-table, for the young-
lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen. The
flickering flame of the northern lights could be plainly seen, whether they
rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of the castle. In the midst
of its empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen lake, broken on its surface
into a thousand forms; each piece resembled another, from being in itself
perfect as a work of art, and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen,
when she was at home. She called the lake “The Mirror of Reason,” and
said that it was the best, and indeed the only one in the world.
