Joanna, in all her splendor, with the golden crown on her head, as he had
last seen her, to welcome him back. And then there appeared before him
two remarkable shapes, which looked much more like human beings than
when he had seen them in his childhood; they were changed, but he
remembered that they were the two gingerbread cakes, the man and the
woman, who had shown their best sides to the world and looked so good.
“We thank you,” they said to Knud, “for you have loosened our tongues;
we have learnt from you that thoughts should be spoken freely, or nothing
will come of them; and now something has come of our thoughts, for we
are engaged to be married.” Then they walked away, hand-in-hand, through
the streets of Kjøge, looking very respectable on the best side, which they
were quite right to show. They turned their steps to the church, and Knud
and Joanna followed them, also walking hand-in-hand; there stood the
church, as of old, with its red walls, on which the green ivy grew.
The great church door flew open wide, and as they walked up the broad
aisle, soft tones of music sounded from the organ. “Our master first,” said
the gingerbread pair, making room for Knud and Joanna. As they knelt at
the altar, Joanna bent her head over him, and cold, icy tears fell on his face
from her eyes. They were indeed tears of ice, for her heart was melting
towards him through his strong love, and as her tears fell on his burning
cheeks he awoke. He was still sitting under the willow-tree in a strange
land, on a cold winter evening, with snow and hail falling from the clouds,
and beating upon his face.
“That was the most delightful hour of my life,” said he, “although it was
only a dream. Oh, let me dream again.” Then he closed his eyes once more,
and slept and dreamed.
Towards morning there was a great fall of snow; the wind drifted it over
him, but he still slept on. The villagers came forth to go to church; by the
roadside they found a workman seated, but he was dead! frozen to death
under a willow-tree.
