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 dead, and that she was abandoned by all. She danced, and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night. The shoes carried her over stock 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 and 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.
CHAPTER THIRD.
HOW KAREN TRIED TO GO TO CHURCH AGAIN, HOW SHE PRAYED AND WAS SORRY, AND HOW AN ANGEL CAME TO COMFORT HER, AND HOW HAPPY SHE BECAME.
