a face; but it was the old soldier with
the red beard; he sat there, nodded his head, and said, "Look, what
beautiful dancing shoes!"

Then she was terrified, and wanted to fling off the red shoes, but they
clung fast; and she pulled down her stockings, but the shoes seemed to
have grown to her feet. And she danced, and must dance, over fields and
meadows, in rain and sunshine, by night and day; but at night it was the
most fearful.

She danced over the churchyard, but the dead did not dance--they had
something better to do than to dance. She wished to seat herself on a
poor man's grave, where the bitter tansy grew; but for her there was
neither peace nor rest; and when she danced towards the open church
door, she saw an angel standing there. He wore long, white garments; he
had wings which reached from his shoulders to the earth; his countenance
was severe and grave; and in his hand he held a sword, broad and
glittering.

"Dance shalt thou!" said he. "Dance in thy red shoes till thou art pale
and cold! Till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton! Dance shalt
thou from door to door, and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt
knock, that they may hear thee and tremble! Dance shalt thou--!"

"Mercy!" cried Karen. But she did not hear the angel's reply, for the
shoes carried her through the gate into the fields, across roads and
bridges, and she must keep ever dancing.

One morning she danced past a door which she well knew. Within sounded
a psalm; a coffin, decked with flowers, was borne forth. Then she knew
that the old lady was dead, and felt that she was abandoned by all, and
condemned by the angel of God.

She danced, and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night. The
shoes carried her over stack and stone; she was torn till she bled; she
danced over the heath till she came to a little house. Here, she knew,
dwelt the executioner; and she tapped with her fingers at the window,
and said, "Come out! Come out! I cannot come in, for I am forced to
dance!"

And the executioner said, "Thou dost not know who I am, I fancy? I
strike bad people's heads off; and I hear that my axe rings!"

"Don't strike my head off!" said Karen. "Then I can't repent of my sins!
But strike off my feet in the red shoes!"

And then she confessed her entire sin, and the executioner struck off
her feet with the red shoes, but the shoes danced away with the little
feet across the field into the deep wood.

And he carve