Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed; she had new clothes and was to have
new shoes also. The rich shoemaker in the city took the measure of her little
foot. This took place at his house, in his room; where stood large
glass-cases, filled with elegant shoes and brilliant boots. All this looked
charming, but the old lady could not see well, and so had no pleasure in them.
In the midst of the shoes stood a pair of red ones, just like those the
princess had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoemaker said also they had
been made for the child of a count, but had not fitted.

"That must be patent leather!" said the old lady. "They shine so!"

"Yes, they shine!" said Karen, and they fitted, and were bought, but the old
lady knew nothing about their being red, else she would never have allowed
Karen to have gone in red shoes to be confirmed. Yet such was the case.

Everybody looked at her feet; and when she stepped through the chancel door on
the church pavement, it seemed to her as if the old figures on the tombs,
those portraits of old preachers and preachers' wives, with stiff ruffs, and
long black dresses, fixed their eyes on her red shoes. And she thought only of
them as the clergyman laid his hand upon her head, and spoke of the holy
baptism, of the covenant with God, and how she should be now a matured
Christian; and the organ pealed so solemnly; the sweet children's voices sang,
and the old music-directors sang, but Karen only thought of her red shoes.

In the afternoon, the old lady heard from everyone that the shoes had been
red, and she said that it was very wrong of Karen, that it was not at all
becoming, and that in future Karen should only go in black shoes to church,
even when she should be older.

The next Sunday there was the sacrament, and Karen looked at the black shoes,
looked at the red ones--looked at them again, and put on the red shoes.

The sun shone gloriously; Karen and the old lady walked along the path through
the corn; it was rather dusty there.

At the church door stood an old soldier with a crutch, and with a wonderfully
long beard, which was more red than white, and he bowed to the ground, and
asked the old lady whether he might dust her shoes. And Karen stretched out
her little foot.

"See, what beautiful dancing shoes!" said the soldier. "Sit firm when you
dance"; and he put his hand out towards the soles.

And the old lady gave the old soldier alms, and went into the church with
Karen.

And all the people in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all the
pictures, and as Karen knelt before the altar, and raised the cup to her
lips, she only thought of the red shoes, and they seemed to swim in it; and
she forgot to sing her psalm, and she forgot to pray, "Our Father in Heaven!"

Now all the people went out of church, and the old lady got into her carriage.
Karen raised her foot to get in after her, when the old soldier said,

"Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!"

And Karen could not help dancing a step or two, and when she began her feet
continued to dance; it was just as though the shoes had power over them. She
danced round the church corner, she could not leave off; the coachman was
obliged to run after and catch hold of her, and he lifted her in the carriage,
but her feet continued to dance so that she trod on the old lady dreadfully.
At length she took the shoes off, and then her legs had peace.

The shoes were placed in a closet at home, but Karen could not avoid looking
at them.

Now the old lady was sick, and it was said she could not recover. She must be
nursed and waited upon, and there was no one whose duty it was so much as
Karen's. But there was a great ball in the city, to which Karen was invited.
She looked at the old lady, who could not recover, she looked at the red
shoes, and she thought there could be no sin in it; she put on the red shoes,
she might do that also, she thought. But then she went to the ball and began
to dance.

When she wanted to dance to the right, the shoes would dance to the left, and
when she wanted to dance up the room, the shoes danced back again, down the
steps, into the street, and out of the city gate. She danced, and was forced
to dance straight out into the gloomy wood.

Then it was suddenly light up among the trees, and she fancied it must be the
moon, for there was 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--!"


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