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The Red Shoes
Hans Christian Andersen
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.
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