horrible, and so they were burnt; but Karen was otherwise nicely clothed, and besides, had a pretty doll charmingly dressed in green.

KAREN WITH HER DOLL.

She must now learn to read and sew; and people said she was a nice little girl; but the looking-glass said, "Thou art more than nice, thou art beautiful!"

Now the queen once travelled through the land, and she had a 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 mother Shoemaker had made.

Nothing in the world can compare with red shoes, thought Karen, and she greatly desired them.

Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed by the bishop, and that she might be ready to go to the church, the old lady had new clothes made for her, and took her to the rich shoemaker's in the city to select some shoes. This took place in his store, 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 looking at them. In the midst of these shoes stood a pair of red ones just like those the little princess had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoemaker said also that 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 I should be delighted to have them!"

And they were tried on, and fitted her little foot so well that they 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 now become a true Christian; and the organ pealed so solemnly, the sweet children's voices sang, and the old music-directors; but Karen thought only of her red shoes.

In the afternoon the old lady heard 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 to be the sacrament, and Karen looked at the black shoes, then 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, and their shoes were covered.

At the church-door stood an old soldier with a crutch, and with a wonderful long beard which was more red than white, and he bowed to the ground and asked the old lady if he might dust her shoes; and Karen stretched out her little foot.

"See! what beautiful dancing-shoes!" said the soldier; "sit firm—you dance," and he put his hand out towards the soles.

And the old lady gave the soldier an 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, who art in heaven!"

Now all the people went out of the church, and the old lady got into the 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 if 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 into the carriage, but her feet continued to dance, so that she trod on the old lady dreadfully. At length she took off the shoes, and then her legs had peace.

The shoes were placed in a closet at home, but Karen could not help looking at them.

CHAPTER SECOND.

KAREN GROWS VAIN OF HER RED SHOES, AND IS FORCED TO DANCE OVER THE FIELDS, ACROSS THE BRIDGES, AND EVERY-WHERE.

ow the old lady was sick, and it was said that 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 to be a great ball, 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 thought she might do that also; and she went to the ball and began to dance.

When she went to dance to the right, the shoes would dance to the left; and when she went to dance up the room, the shoes would dance back again; and they danced down the steps, into the street, and from there she danced, and danced straight out into the gloomy wood.

Then it was 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 over meadows, in rain and sunshine, by night and day; but at night it was 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! Dance shalt thou from door to door; and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt stand and 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 she well knew. Within sounded a psalm; a coffin decked with flowers was borne forth. Then she knew that the old lady was