But when she wished to go to the right hand, the shoes danced to the
left, and when she wanted to go upstairs the shoes danced downward, down
into the street and out at the town gate. She danced, and was obliged to
dance, till she danced straight out into the dark wood.

There was something glistening up among the trees, and she thought it
was the moon, for she saw a face. But it was the old soldier with the
red beard: he sat and nodded, and said:

"Look, what beautiful dancing-shoes!"

Then she was frightened, and wanted to throw away the red shoes; but
they clung fast to her. And she tore off her stockings; but the shoes
had grown fast to her feet. And she danced and was compelled to go
dancing over field and meadow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by
day; but it was most dreadful at night.

She danced out into the open churchyard; but the dead there do not
dance; they have far better things to do. She wished to sit down on the
poor man's grave, where the bitter fern grows; but there was no peace
nor rest for her. And when she danced toward the open church door, she
saw there an angel in long white garments, with wings that reached from
his shoulders to his feet; his countenance was serious and stern, and
in his hand he held a sword that was broad and gleaming.

"Thou shalt dance!" he said--"dance on thy red shoes, till thou art pale
and cold, and till thy body shrivels to a skeleton. Thou shalt dance
from door to door, and where proud, haughty children dwell, shalt thou
knock, that they may hear thee, and be afraid of thee! Thou shalt dance,
dance!"

"Mercy!" cried Karen.

But she did not hear what the angel answered, for the shoes carried her
away--carried her through the door on to the field, over stock and
stone, and she was always obliged to dance.

One morning she danced past a door which she knew well. There was a
sound of psalm-singing within, and a coffin was carried out, adorned
with flowers. Then she knew that the old lady was dead, and she felt
that she was deserted by all, and condemned by the angel of heaven.

She danced, and was compelled to dance--to dance in the dark night. The
shoes carried her on over thorn and brier; she scratched herself till
she bled; she danced away across the heath to a little lonely house.
Here she knew the executioner dwelt; and she tapped with her fingers on
the panes, and called:

"Come out, come out! I cannot come in for I must dance!"

And the execution