“It must have been terrible,” said little Gerda.  “And did Kay get the Princess?”

“Were I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess myself, although I am promised.  It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk Raven language; this I learned from my tame sweetheart.  He was bold and nicely behaved; he had not come to woo the Princess, but only to hear her wisdom.  She pleased him, and he pleased her.”

“Yes, yes; for certain that was Kay,” said Gerda.  “He was so clever; he could reckon fractions in his head.  Oh, won’t you take me to the palace?”

“That is very easily said,” answered the Raven.  “But how are we to manage it?  I’ll speak to my tame sweetheart about it:  she must advise us; for so much I must tell you, such a little girl as you are will never get permission to enter.”

“Oh, yes I shall,” said Gerda; “when Kay hears that I am here, he will come out directly to fetch me.”

“Wait for me here on these steps,” said the Raven.  He moved his head backwards and forwards and flew away.

The evening was closing in when the Raven returned.  “Caw—­caw!” said he.  “She sends you her compliments; and here is a roll for you.  She took it out of the kitchen, where there is bread enough.  You are hungry, no doubt.  It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for you are barefooted:  the guards in silver, and the lackeys in gold, would not allow it; but do not cry, you shall come in still.  My sweetheart knows a little back stair that leads to the bedchamber, and she knows where she can get the key of it.”

And they went into the garden in the large avenue, where one leaf was falling after the other; and when the lights in the palace had all gradually disappeared, the Raven led little Gerda to the back door, which stood half open.

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety 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 intelligent 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 will, no doubt, be glad to see you—­to hear what a long way you have come for his sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back.”

Oh, what a fright and a joy it was!

They were now on the stairs.  A single lamp was burning there; and on the floor stood the tame Raven, 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 Raven.  “Your tale 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 something rushed past:  it was like shadowy figures on the wall; horses with flowing manes and thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback.