Chương Chương 18 · The Red Shoes

. The Red Shoes

There was once a little girl who was very pretty and delicate, but in

summer she was forced to run about with bare feet, she was so poor, and

in winter wear very large wooden shoes, which made her little insteps

quite red, and that looked so dangerous!

In the middle of the village lived old Dame Shoemaker; she sat and sewed

together, as well as she could, a little pair of shoes out of old red

strips of cloth; they were very clumsy, but it was a kind thought. They

were meant for the little girl. The little girl was called Karen.

On the very day her mother was buried, Karen received the red shoes,

and wore them for the first time. They were certainly not intended for

mourning, but she had no others, and with stockingless feet she followed

the poor straw coffin in them.

Suddenly a large old carriage drove up, and a large old lady sat in it:

she looked at the little girl, felt compassion for her, and then said to

the clergyman:

“Here, give me the little girl. I will adopt her!”

And Karen believed all this happened on account of the red shoes, but

the old lady thought they were horrible, and they were burnt. But Karen

herself was cleanly and nicely dressed; she must learn to read and sew;

and people said she was a nice little thing, but the looking-glass said:

“Thou art more than nice, thou art beautiful!”

Now the queen once travelled through the land, and she had her little

daughter with her. And this little daughter was a princess, and people

streamed to the castle, and Karen was there also, and the little

princess stood in her fine white dress, in a window, and let herself be

stared at; she had neither a train nor a golden crown, but splendid

red morocco shoes. They were certainly far handsomer than those Dame

Shoemaker had made for little Karen. Nothing in the world can be

compared with red shoes.

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--!”

“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 carved out little wooden feet for her, and crutches, taught

her the psalm criminals always sing; and she kissed the hand which had

wielded the axe, and went over the heath.

“Now I have suffered enough for the red shoes!” said she. “Now I will

go into the church that people may see me!” And she hastened towards the

church door: but when she was near it, the red shoes danced before her,

and she was terrified, and turned round. The whole week she was unhappy,

and wept many bitter tears; but when Sunday returned, she said, “Well,

now I have suffered and struggled enough! I really believe I am as good

as many a one who sits in the church, and holds her head so high!”

And away she went boldly; but she had not got farther than the

churchyard gate before she saw the red shoes dancing before her; and she

was frightened, and turned back, and repented of her sin from her heart.

And she went to the parsonage, and begged that they would take her

into service; she would be very industrious, she said, and would do

everything she could; she did not care about the wages, only she wished

to have a home, and be with good people. And the clergyman's wife was

sorry for her and took her into service; and she was industrious and

thoughtful. She sat still and listened when the clergyman read the Bible

in the evenings. All the children thought a great deal of her; but when

they spoke of dress, and grandeur, and beauty, she shook her head.

The following Sunday, when the family was going to church, they asked

her whether she would not go with them; but she glanced sorrowfully,

with tears in her eyes, at her crutches. The family went to hear the

word of God; but she went alone into her little chamber; there was only

room for a bed and chair to stand in it; and here she sat down with her

Prayer-Book; and whilst she read with a pious mind, the wind bore

the strains of the organ towards her, and she raised her tearful

countenance, and said, “O God, help me!”

And the sun shone so clearly, and straight before her stood the angel

of God in white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church

door; but he no longer carried the sharp sword, but in its stead a

splendid green spray, full of roses. And he touched the ceiling with the

spray, and the ceiling rose so high, and where he had touched it there

gleamed a golden star. And he touched the walls, and they widened out,

and she saw the organ which was playing; she saw the old pictures of the

preachers and the preachers' wives. The congregation sat in cushioned

seats, and sang out of their Prayer-Books. For the church itself had

come to the poor girl in her narrow chamber, or else she had come into

the church. She sat in the pew with the clergyman's family, and when

they had ended the psalm and looked up, they nodded and said, “It is

right that thou art come!”

“It was through mercy!” she said.

And the organ pealed, and the children's voices in the choir sounded so

sweet and soft! The clear sunshine streamed so warmly through the window

into the pew where Karen sat! Her heart was so full of sunshine, peace,

and joy, that it broke. Her soul flew on the sunshine to God, and there

no one asked after the RED SHOES.