In that cold and darkness, a poor little boy walked down the street bareheaded and barefoot. He stopped and huddled in a corner between two houses, one of which jutted more into the street than the other. He squeezed his little legs under him. The cold was getting to him more and more, and yet he didn't feel like going home; he had all his matches and not a penny. His father would beat him. His little hands were almost frozen with cold. He took out a match and held his little feet close to the flame. Through the windows he could see happy families enjoying New Year's Eve. Little kids like him, dressed thickly, smiling with their parents. He was so hungry and cold...

That's when you passed by and saw the poor child freezing cold.