That afternoon, when the old lady was told that Karen had worn red shoes
at her confirmation, she was much vexed, and told Karen that they were
quite unsuitable, and that, henceforward, whenever she went to church,
she must wear black shoes, were they ever so old.
Next Sunday was the communion day. Karen looked first at the red shoes,
then at the black ones, then at the red again, and--put them on.
It was beautiful sunshiny weather; Karen and the old lady walked to
church through the corn-fields; the path was very dusty.
At the church door stood an old soldier; he was leaning on crutches, and
had a marvellously long beard, not white, but reddish-hued, and he bowed
almost to the earth, and asked the old lady if he might wipe the dust
off her shoes. And Karen put out her little foot also. ‘Oh, what pretty
dancing-shoes!’ quoth the old soldier; ‘take care, and mind you do not
let them slip off when you dance’; and he passed his hands over them.
The old lady gave the soldier a halfpenny, and then went with Karen into
church.
And every one looked at Karen’s red shoes; and all the carved figures,
too, bent their gaze upon them; and when Karen knelt before the altar,
the red shoes still floated before her eyes; she thought of them and of
them only, and she forgot to join in the hymn of praise--she forgot to
repeat ‘Our Father.’
At last all the people came out of church, and the old lady got into her
carriage. Karen was just lifting her foot to follow her, when the old
soldier standing in the porch exclaimed, ‘Only look, what pretty
dancing-shoes!’ And Karen could not help it, she felt she must make a
few of her dancing steps; and after she had once begun, her feet
continued to move, just as though the shoes had received power over
them; she danced round the church-yard, she could not stop. The coachman
was obliged to run after her; he took hold of her and lifted her into
the carriage, but the feet still continued to dance, so as to kick the
good old lady most cruelly. At last the shoes were taken off, and the
feet had rest.
[Illustration: KAREN AND THE OLD LADY WALKED TO CHURCH]
And now the shoes were put away in a press, but Karen could not help
going to look at them every now and then.
The old lady lay ill in bed; the doctor said she could not live much
longer. She certainly needed careful nursing, and who should be her
nurse and constant attendant but Karen? But there was to be a grand ball
in the town. Karen was invited; she looked at the old lady who was
almost dying--she looked at the red shoes--she put them on, there could
be no harm in doing that, at least; she went to the ball, and began to
dance. But when she wanted to move to the right, the shoes bore her to
the left; and when she would dance up the room, the shoes danced down
the room, danced down the stairs, through the streets, and through the
gates of the town. Dance she did, and dance she must, straight out into
the dark wood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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