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.