Snow is beautiful! It is a wondrous event for little children, to be playing contently on the floor, surrounded by a kingdom of dolls, soldiers, and other playthings before a roaring hearth, when suddenly one child who has had the fortune of wandering to the window cries out in delight,
"Look everyone! It's snowing!" Such an announcement is most certainly followed by a general clamor to get to the window. The other children push and contend with one another to be the first to press their noses to the frosty windowpane and see the heavenly white flakes appearing like stars on the night sky.
"It's snowing! It's snowing!" the smallest ones shriek and the grown people smile as they send them off to bed. Even their old eyes become starry as they sit watching by the window with a warm mug of tea and remembering the magical wintry days of their own childhoods.
The next morning there is a great rush as the children rise early out of bed and wiggle and squirm all through breakfast. Next there is a great commotion as each child dresses themselves in layer after layer of Big-brother's sweaters and Father's thick stockings and they all rush out into the fresh, cold air!
Hours later, they all return for a hot bowl of soup, their faces pink and chapped, and their layers of clothing all soaked and frozen over.
Yes snow is a lovely, wonderful thing, but of course Erik new almost nothing about it. Having spent most of his life underground, he had hardly ever seen it, and certainly had never taken to time to roll about it the way children do. He knew only that it was cold and wet and had a most unfortunate way of clinging to one's trousers and falling into one's boots. Therefore, it is understandable that he was slightly confused after he rushed to Suzette's bedroom on winter's evening upon hearing her scream his name only to find her standing on a chair in her nightgown, smiling and pointing her finger triumphantly out the window.
"Look Erik!" said she, and he stepped to the window and pulled the lace aside. The snow was falling so quickly that he could barely see the lighted windows of the nearest house, and the street had virtually disappeared beneath it. Erik had to admit that it was rather pretty and peaceful in a way. His thoughts were interrupted by Suzette, who was dancing about like an Indian warrior and chanting, "It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!" at the very top of her voice.
"It's very pretty," said Erik.
"Let's go outside!"
"Whatever for?"
"To play in the snow!"
"What?"
"Pleeeese! Just for a while?"
"But its dark and cold out and you're already dressed for bed!"
"I can get dressed for bed again! Please? Just out back? It's nighttime and no one will see us!"
Erik stared at Suzette. He hated these kinds of moments. He knew that there had to be a perfectly good reason that children shouldn't play outside in the snow late at night, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. He realized that if he didn't come up with something quick, he would be obliged to take this little girl out for a romp in the snow.
"Wouldn't you rather just sit in here and read a nice story by the fire?" he asked in a cheery voice.
"No! No! No!" Suzette shouted as she hopped up and down with her little hands clasped together under her chin, as if she were praying. Erik sighed.
"Well, maybe for a little while, but you must dress up warm!" No sooner had Erik said these words than little Suzette was rushing about the room assembling the warmest outfit she could find. Erik left her to her task and went to put on his cloak and hat.
Moments later, they were standing together silently in the garden. The snow had stopped falling, though an occasional breeze blew a bit of it off the tree branches and fell upon them like fairy dust. The bright moon had found a little hole in the clouds to peak through and it cast a lovely shimmer on the whole world before them. The fresh snow shone like tiny crystals. Erik thought it looked as if all the stars in the universe had landed delicately on the boughs of the trees. There was a sweet scent in the air, a mixture of the burning firewood and something else; a kind of pleasant, sweet, dry aroma. Erik wondered if you could smell snow and in the peaceful silence of night, he almost imagined that he could hear each of those tiny crystals whispering to each other. He looked to Suzette and saw her staring with wonder at the beautiful scene before her. She looked as if she were afraid to touch the pristine snow with her footsteps.
"Well," asked Erik, "What shall we do now?" Suzette took his hand and led her through the garden. She showed him how to crush the snow into little balls and hurl them into the bushes, disturbing little chipmunks and winter birds, who had more sense then to be playing out in the snow late at night. Erik brushed the snow off a bench and sat and watched as Suzette created three giant snowballs by rolling them around the garden. He helped her to stack them on one another to create the shape of a person. Suzette then searched the bushes and trees for sticks and acorns to create arms and a face for him. At last, Suzette wound her own scarf around the snowman's neck and Erik offered her his wide-brimmed hat to place his head.
"His name is Henri," Suzette declared, and as Erik had no objections, it was so.
"Shall we go in now?" Erik asked her.
"Just a moment more," she replied and to his surprise she fell over backward and proceeded to wave her arms back and forth.
"Whatever are you doing now?" he demanded in consternation, "I've never seen such behavior." Suzette got up slowly.
"Look, Erik!" she said and stepped aside so he could see, "A snow angel!" He looked at the figure of the angel in the snow and chuckled to himself.
"Well of all things! May we go inside now, my dear?" Suzette smiled sleepily and she took his hand and led him back to the house.
Once inside, Suzette hurried to her room to get ready once more for bed and Erik went and made a fresh pot of tea for them. Before he had even come up the stairs with the tea, Suzette was in her nightgown once more and was curled up in her bed with a picture book. It was the story of two boys who built a sled together and it was the fastest of all the boys' sleds in the village. Suzette thought it was a rather silly story, but she looked longingly at the picture of all the children racing down the hill.
"Can you build a sled, Erik?"
"I should think so, though I've never tried it before."
"Could you show me how?" she asked hopefully.
"Of course."
Tomorrow?"
"If you wish." Suzette lay happily back in her bed.
"Don't you wish it was always snowy?"
"It is in some places."
"Like where, Erik?"
"The North Pole."
"That must be lovely!" the child exclaimed.
"Yes, I suppose it is," Erik replied rather unhappily. He didn't like to think of the North Pole. It reminded him of Christine and her young Viscomte. He wondered if the little fellow had sailed away on an adventure to the North Pole as he had planned to and whether he had taken Christine with him. He hoped that she liked it there, that he was very good to her, and that she was happy. Tears welled in his eyes, behind his mask, as he wondered if Christine had forgotten him completely.
"But you know, Erik, if it is always winter in the North Pole, then there would never be any flowers, and I wouldn't like that."
"You are correct in that, mademoiselle. If you went to the North Pole, you would have to say good-bye to flowers."