A boy goes far (literally as well as figuratively) because he has a good heart."Heigh-ho I" said Hans, the cobbler's son. "Here I am off to seek my fortune with nothing in my bundle but a loaf of black bread and a pair of old wooden shoes, my father's only legacy to me. Why he set such a store by those old shoes I 'm sure I can't see, but I 'll carry them along, for they may serve my need when I come to a town; for the present, however, I 'd rather go barefoot."
Hans trudged merrily along the road, carrying the bundle over his shoulder. It is true Hans had not much behind him, but little cared he, for he had the whole world before him. And so he whistled cheerily as he went along, for Hans had a merry heart.
All went well until Hans came to a place where the road had been mended; the broken stones cut his feet, so he sat down by the wayside, opened his bundle, and slipped on the wooden shoes. The shoes seemed to fit him very well indeed; in fact, no sooner did Hans rise to his feet, than he began to dance; never had his feet seemed so light. As he skipped along the road, he presently spied a row of fine apple-trees.
"I must have just one of those apples." he said; "I 'm sure the farmer will not mind if I take a few."
There was a wide ditch between the road and the orchard, but Hans ran boldly up to it, expecting to cross it at one leap.
But, to his surprise and amazement, his feet seemed to trip him as he jumped, and he fell headlong into the water.
When he came up, Hans saw the wooden shoes bobbing up and down on the water. He had half a mind to leave them there, for he felt that they were to blame for his accident. But shoes are shoes to a poor boy, and so Hans picked them up with a sigh, and emptied the water out of them. What was his surprise to see here and there on their sides a gleam of bright color. At once Hans became so interested in the shoes that he quite forgot the apples. He sat down by the roadside and began to polish the shoes with the sleeve of his blouse; soon they were a brilliant red all over.
A crooked little man who was passing stopped to look.
"What beautiful shoes!" he said. "Will you sell them to me? I will give you a gold piece for them."
Hans took the gold piece gladly. "With this," he said, "I can buy for myself some stout leathern shoes, and something to eat besides."
Now the piece of money was not gold, as Hans thought; the crooked little man knew it, and so. apparently, did the wonderful shoes, for the moment the little man put them on, they started up the road at such a speed that the little man lost first his hat, and then his wig. The wicked little shoes led him a merry chase, and finally landed him squarely in the midst of a great bramble thicket.
There Hans found him when he at last overtook him.
"Take your shoes; they are bewitched!" cried the little man, tossing them out upon the road. "Now help me out of this thicket, there 's a good lad!"
Hans helped the crooked little man out of the thicket, and, as soon as he found himself upon his feet, he set off up the road whence he came.
He did not stop to say so much as a thank you; neither did he pick up his piece of money which Hans tossed after him.
After that, Hans carried the shoes in his bundle again, for he fully believed that they were bewitched.
Just before nightfall, he came to a large town with paved streets and many fine houses. On the hillside, not far away, he could see a castle with many turrets.
"This must be the town of Ems, where King Elfred lives,"' said Hans. "I must put on my shoes, for I 'd be ashamed to go barefoot through such a town."
He put the shoes on bis feet, and straightway they began to dance. Now Hans loved music, so as the shoes began to dance, he began to sing; so up the main street he went, dancing and singing with all his might. Soon a large crowd of people were following him. When he reached the market-place, Hans turned and faced the crowd.
"What somber clothes they wear! what solemn faces they have!" he said. "I must try to cheer them up a bit." And so he danced, and capered, and sang his funny songs, until he was fairly out of breath. At first, the people only smiled, then they began to laugh, and, finally, they roared so with merriment that the tears ran down their faces. Hans tried to stop dancing several times, but the shoes would not let him rest until he took them off and placed them on the pavement before him. The people immediately crowded around him; they filled his shoes with coins, and begged him to dance again.
But Hans shook his head. His only thought was to get a good supper and a soft bed, for he was tired out after his day's tramp. But as the coins jingled in his pockets, and the people crowded around him asking for more, Hans became greedy.
"I will dance again," he said to himself. "Perhaps they will give me gold this time."
Me put on bis shoes and began to whistle a merry tune, but bis feet seemed glued to the pavement; the magic shoes refused to dance.
But the crowd pressed around him still closer. "Dance, stranger, dance!" urged an old man. "I have not had such a good laugh since—"
"Hush!" said his neighbor, in an undertone. "The king's' men may hear you!"
"Make way there !" called a voice of authority. "What means this rabble?" A man clothed in black velvet, and rifling a black horse, made bis way through the crowd.
"'T is Duke Ulva, the king's cousin," whispered a friendly voice in Hans's ear. "Run, run!"
But Hans stood his ground, for he felt that he had done no wrong.
The people fell back on either side, leaving Hans standing alone in the middle of the square.
"So. clown, you are the cause of this unseemly mirth, arc you?" said the duke. "Know you not that this is a town of mourning?"
"I am a stranger," said Hans, "and I did not know."
"See you not the people's black garments and the signs of mourning about the streets?" questioned the duke, sternly. "Be off with you! We will have no more of your buffoonery!"
Hans was only too glad to get out of the market-place. He carried his shoes in his hand so that he might run more swiftly, and before long he came to an inn on the outskirts of the town The innkeeper looked at him askance when he asked for supper and a night's lodging, but when Hans jingled his coins, he did not refuse.
"How comes it that this is a town of mourning?" asked Hans, as he ate his supper.
"'T is a sad tale," said the innkeeper, "but as you are a stranger, I will tell it you. It happened in this way: our good king, Elfred, had an only son,-of whom he was very fond. One day, when he and the prince were hunting together, the prince was thrown from his horse and was killed instantly. The king has made a vow to mourn all his days, and the court and the townspeople mourn with him. For five long years, we have kept the vow, and a sad town is Ems! Our young people are. all leaving us, and small wonder."
In the morning, Hans set out again. His pockets were much lighter after he had paid the innkeeper's charges. Before he had gone far, he saw a poor old man bent nearly double under a heavy load of wood. As he stopped to rest by the road, Hans thrust a few coins into his hand and hurried on. Later on, a blind beggar held out his cup, and Hans filled it. As his pockets grew lighter, his heart grew lighter, and so did his feet. He gave his last penny to a poor woman, who thanked him gratefully.
"Bless you, my boy!" she said. "You have a good heart, and a light foot. May you dance before the king!"
"I 'd like nothing better," replied Hans, laughingly.
No sooner had he spoken than his shoes began to dance along the road, carrying him he knew not whither. He soon found out, however, that the road led straight up the hill to the castle: but Hans could not stop himself. On he danced until he reached the castle gate; the solemn warder gazed at Hans with round eyes, but one tap from his little red shoe opened the gate, and Hans went dancing through. Across the court he sped, past groups of astonished lords and ladies, up the steps into the great hall of the castle, then up a flight of marble stairs, past two petrified grooms, and into the throne-room itself. Breathless as he was, Hans did not stop dancing even when he saw the black-robed king himself, for he knew that his very life depended on it. So he whistled, he sang, and he danced as he had never danced before.
The king's face was as black as thunder when he first saw Hans. One lift of his finger, and the soldiers who stood about him would have seized Hans and carried him away to the dungeon. But the king did not raise his hand, for the boy's merry, winning face attracted him, and he had not the heart to stop him. At first, he simply smiled in a dignified way, but at last the merry tunes and the clattering red shoes were too much for him; he broke down, and laughed until his sides shook. Hans danced until he could dance no more; then he took off the red shoes, and sank down at the king's feet to rest.
"Go on with your dancing, boy." urged the king, when he could speak for laughing. "I have not had such a laugh for years! See, here is gold, take it all!" And he threw a shower of glittering coins at Hans's feet.
But Hans had learned a lesson from his dancing shoes. "I do not dance for gold," he said simply. "I dance just to make people happy."
"You shall have a princely robe and eat at my table!" said the king, heartily. "You shall dance before me every day, for you have a merry heart, and I would have you near me!"
Now the Duke Ulva stood behind the king's chair, and he was none too pleased with what had passed, for he wished no one to share with him the king's favor.
"Yon boy is but a mere buffoon," he whispered in the king's ear. "I saw him yester-e'en dancing in the market-place, and the people showered him with coins. Not dance for gold—faugh!"
"But he dances right well," persisted the king. "I am sure that he earns all he gets."
"Any one could dance as well, were he shod as well, my liege," insinuated the duke. "Those shoes are bewitched."
"Then take you the shoes, cousin," said the king. "If your words be true, show us a merry dance."
Now Hans sat so near that he heard these last words of King Elf red, who had spoken aloud in his impatience. Accordingly, Hans rose, and, with a low bow, presented the red shoes to Duke Ulva. The duke took them with ill grace, for he had no wish to try his steps before King Elfred and his court; but there was no choice for him. He took the shoes and examined them curiously.
"I fear that they will not fit me," he said.
"Try them," insisted King Elfred, and the duke was forced to obey. Now the shoes were, as you know, magic shoes, and they were able to fit any foot that was thrust into them; so they proved to be an excellent fit for the duke.
"Now dance, cousin!" commanded the king.
Now there was no better dancer in the court than Duke Ulva, but, when he attempted to dance that time, he utterly failed. He tried to raise his feet, but they seemed fastened to the floor; not a step could he make. The little red shoes refused to dance for him, because there was envy and malice in the duke's heart.
Duke Ulva heard the titter from the ladies, he saw the wrathful face of the king and the pitying eyes of Hans; he waited to see no more, but, thrusting the magic shoes from him, he bolted from the hall. They never saw him again.
When the duke was gone, King Elfred leaned down, and, taking Hans by the hand, he drew him up to his side.
"You are a good lad, and you will make me a good son," he said. "You shall take the place of him for whom I have mourned so long!"
There was great feasting and rejoicing in the castle for many days after that. The king put off his mourning, his court did the same, and the townsfolk quickly followed their example.
Hans was a good son to King Elfred; he cheered his last days, and, when he was gone, he reigned in his place. The people of Ems hailed King Hans with joy, for they never forgot how much they owed to Hans and his dancing shoes.
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