The Flame-Flower 57

had turned pink again. When she moved
her hand to see, beneath it was a little flower-
bud of the colour of gold, which was no
sooner uncovered than it grew to a flower
whose petals were not still, but gently
flickered, casting a light around.

Flamma stretched out her frozen arms
toward the flower as to a fire, and it
warmed her through.

All the snow dissolved from about the
flower to the distance of an arm’s length,
and the ground grew dry; so that Flamma
was warm, as one in a house of turf.

“The flower could not rend the rock to
make a cave for me,” thought she, “but it
can dissolve the snow, which is as good!”

Even as she thought this, the petals of
the flower stretched out and licked the base
of the rock; and their heat so grew that
Flamma was forced to cover her face with
her hands and draw further away. The
snow was dissolved for many yards around,
and the rock grew red and then white, and
crumbled away, until it was rent from base
to top. The snow had been dissolved by