Something all at once shone through the trees. She thought at first it must be the moon’s bright face, shining blood-red through the night mists; but no, it was the old soldier with the red beard--he sat there, nodding at her, and repeating, ‘Only look, what pretty dancing-shoes!’ She was very much frightened, and tried to throw off her red shoes, but could not unclasp them. She hastily tore off her stockings; but the shoes she could not get rid of--they had, it seemed, grown on to her feet. Dance she did, and dance she must, over field and meadow, in rain and in sunshine, by night and by day. By night! that was most horrible! She danced into the lonely church-yard, but the dead there danced not, they were at rest. She would fain have sat down on the poor man’s grave, where the bitter tansy grew, but for her there was neither rest nor respite. She danced past the open church door; there she saw an angel, clad in long white robes, and with wings that reached from his shoulders to the earth; his countenance was grave and stern, and in his hand he held a broad glittering sword. ‘Dance thou shalt,’ said he; ‘dance on, in thy red shoes, till thou art pale and cold, and thy skin shrinks and crumples up like a skeleton’s! Dance thou shalt still, from door to door, and wherever proud, vain children live thou shalt knock, so that they may hear thee and fear! Dance shalt thou, dance on----’ ‘Mercy!’ cried Karen; but she heard not the angel’s answer, for the shoes carried her through the gate, into the fields, along highways and by-ways, and still she must dance. One morning she danced past a door she knew well; she heard psalm-singing from within, and presently a coffin, strewn with flowers, was borne out. Then Karen knew that the good old lady was dead, and she felt herself a thing forsaken by all mankind, and accursed by the Angel of God. [Illustration: HE SAT THERE NODDING AT HER] Dance she did, and dance she must, even through the dark night; the shoes bore her continually over thorns and briars, till her limbs were torn and bleeding. Away she danced over the heath to a little solitary house; she knew that the headsman dwelt there, and she tapped with her fingers against the panes, crying-- ‘Come out! come out!--I cannot come in to you, I am dancing.’ And the headsman replied, ‘Surely thou knowest not who I am. I cut off the heads of wicked men, and my axe is very sharp and keen.’ ‘Cut not off my head!’ said Karen; ‘for then I could not live to repent of my sin; but cut off my feet with the red shoes.’ And then she confessed to him all her sin, and the headsman cut off her feet with the red shoes on them; but even after this the shoes still danced away with those little feet over the fields, and into the deep forests.