in the air: she, too, was resolute. The leaden Soldier was quite affected at the thought, and he could have wept tears of lead, but that it did not become him to do so. He gazed at her, and she gazed on him; but they spoke not a word.
At that moment one of the little boys took up the Soldier, flung him without more ado into the fire! He gave no reason for doing so; but it was, doubtless, the work of the Magician in the snuff-box.
There stood the Soldier in a blaze of light. He felt a terrible glow; but whether it arose from the fire or from love, he knew not. He had completely changed color; however, I am unable to say whether that happened on account of his long journey, or was the consequence of his agitation. He looked at the little damsel, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but there he stood, still resolute, and “carried arms.”
Suddenly a door opened, the wind caught the Dancer, and, like a sylphide, she flew
