one after the other, the Crow led little Gerda to the back door,
which stood ajar.

Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with doubt and longing! It was just as if she
had been about to do something wrong; and yet she only wanted to know if
little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his
clear eyes and his long hair so vividly, she could quite see him as he
used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home. He would
surely be glad to see her--to hear what a long way she had come for his
sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back.
Oh, what a fright and what a joy it was!

Now they were on the stairs. A single lamp was burning there; and on the
floor stood the tame Crow, turning her head on every side and looking at
Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do.

"My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady," said
the tame Crow. "Your Life, as they call it, is very affecting. If you
will take the lamp, I will go before. We will go straight on, for we
shall meet no one."

"I think there is somebody just behind us," said Gerda; and it rushed
past her. It was like shadows on the wall: horses with flowing manes and
thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback.

"They are only dreams," said the Crow. "They come to fetch the thoughts
of the fine folk to the chase; 'tis well, for now you can see them
asleep all the better. But let me find, when you come to have honor and
fame, that you possess a grateful heart."

"Tut! that's not worth talking about," said the Crow from the woods.

Now they came into the first hall, which was of rose-colored satin,
with painted flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past, but
they hurried by so quickly that Gerda could not see the fine people. One
hall was more showy than the other--well might people be abashed; and at
last they came into the bed-chamber.

The ceiling of the room was like a great palm-tree, with leaves of
glass, of costly glass; and in the middle of the floor, from a thick
golden stalk, hung two beds, each of which was shaped like a lily. One
was white, and in this lay the Princess: the other was red, and it was
here that Gerda was to look for little Kay. She bent back one of the red
leaves, and saw a brown neck--oh, that was Kay! She called him quite
loud by name, held the lamp toward him--the dreams rushed again on
horseback into the chamber--he awoke, turned his head, an