“Sit here, and await the bridegroom. And mind you receive him as pleasantly as you can.”
Then he turned his horse round and drove off homewards.
The girl sat and shivered. The cold had pierced her through. She would fain have cried aloud, but she had not strength enough; only her teeth chattered. Suddenly she heard a sound. Not far off, Frost was cracking away on a fir. From fir to fir was he leaping, and snapping his fingers. Presently he appeared on that very pine under which the maiden was sitting, and from above her head he cried:
“Art thou warm, maiden?”
“Warm, warm am I, dear Father Frost,” she replied.
Frost began to descend lower, all the more cracking and snapping his fingers. To the maiden said Frost:
“Art thou warm, maiden? Art thou warm, fair one?”
The girl could scarcely draw her breath, but still she replied: “Warm am I, Frost dear; warm am I, father dear!”
Frost began cracking more than ever, and more loudly did he snap his fingers, and to the maiden he said:
“Art thou warm, maiden? Art thou warm, pretty one?
“Art thou warm, my darling?”
The girl was by this time numb with cold, and she could scarcely make herself heard as she replied:
“Oh! quite warm. Frost dearest!”
Then Frost took pity on the girl, wrapped her up in furs, and warmed her with blankets.
Next morning the old woman said to her husband:
“Drive out, old greybeard, and wake the young couple!”
The old man harnessed his horse and drove off. When he came to where his daughter was, he found she was alive and had got a good pelisse, a costly bridal veil, and a pannier with rich gifts. He stowed everything away on the sledge
