HANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES
temper, and barks; he is laughed at, and the bubbles burst. A swinging board, a frothy, fleeting image is my song.'
'What you describe may be all very pretty, but you speak so mournfully, and there is nothing about Kay.'
'What say the hyacinths?'
'There were three fair sisters, transparent and delicate they were; the kirtle of the one was red, that of the second blue, of the third pure white; hand in hand they danced in the moonlight beside the quiet lake; they were not fairies, but daughters of men. Sweet was the fragrance when the maidens vanished into the wood; the fragrance grew stronger; three biers, whereon lay the fair sisters, glided out from the depths of the wood, and floated upon the lake; the glow-worms flew shining around like little hovering lamps. Sleep the dancing maidens, or are they dead? The odour from the flowers tells us they are corpses, the evening bells peal out their dirge.'
'You make me quite sad,' said little Gerda. 'Your fragrance is so strong I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Alas! and is little Kay dead? The roses have been under the earth, and they say no!'
'Ding dong! ding dong!' rang the hyacinth bells. 'We toll not for little Kay, we know him not! We do but sing our own song, the only one we know!'
And Gerda went to the buttercup, which shone so brightly from among her smooth green leaves.
'Thou art like a little bright sun,' said Gerda; 'tell me, if thou canst, where I may find my playfellow.'
And the buttercup glittered so brightly, and looked at Gerda. What song could the buttercup sing? Neither was hers about Kay. 'One bright spring morning, the sun shone warmly upon a little court-yard. The bright beams streamed down the white walls of a neighbouring house, and close by 86
