Hans Christian Andersens Fairy Tales | Page 8

had such a delicate sense of feeling.
The Prince accordingly made her his wife; being now convinced that he had found a real
Princess. The three peas were however put into the cabinet of curiosities, where they are
still to be seen, provided they are not lost.
Wasn't this a lady of real delicacy?

THE SHOES OF FORTUNE
I. A Beginning
Every author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style of writing. Those who
do not like him, magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and exclaim--there he is again! I, for
my part, know very well how I can bring about this movement and this exclamation. It
would happen immediately if I were to begin here, as I intended to do, with: "Rome has
its Corso, Naples its Toledo"--"Ah! that Andersen; there he is again!" they would cry; yet
I must, to please my fancy, continue quite quietly, and add: "But Copenhagen has its East
Street."
Here, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the houses not far from the new market
a party was invited--a very large party, in order, as is often the case, to get a return
invitation from the others. One half of the company was already seated at the card-table,
the other half awaited the result of the stereotype preliminary observation of the lady of
the house:
"Now let us see what we can do to amuse ourselves."
They had got just so far, and the conversation began to crystallise, as it could but do with
the scanty stream which the commonplace world supplied. Amongst other things they
spoke of the middle ages: some praised that period as far more interesting, far more
poetical than our own too sober present; indeed Councillor Knap defended this opinion so
warmly, that the hostess declared immediately on his side, and both exerted themselves
with unwearied eloquence. The Councillor boldly declared the time of King Hans to be
the noblest and the most happy period.*
* A.D. 1482-1513
While the conversation turned on this subject, and was only for a moment interrupted by
the arrival of a journal that contained nothing worth reading, we will just step out into the
antechamber, where cloaks, mackintoshes, sticks, umbrellas, and shoes, were deposited.
Here sat two female figures, a young and an old one. One might have thought at first they

were servants come to accompany their mistresses home; but on looking nearer, one soon
saw they could scarcely be mere servants; their forms were too noble for that, their skin
too fine, the cut of their dress too striking. Two fairies were they; the younger, it is true,
was not Dame Fortune herself, but one of the waiting-maids of her handmaidens who
carry about the lesser good things that she distributes; the other looked extremely
gloomy--it was Care. She always attends to her own serious business herself, as then she
is sure of having it done properly.
They were telling each other, with a confidential interchange of ideas, where they had
been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only executed a few unimportant
commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from a shower of rain, etc.; but what she had
yet to perform was something quite unusual.
"I must tell you," said she, "that to-day is my birthday; and in honor of it, a pair of
walking-shoes or galoshes has been entrusted to me, which I am to carry to mankind.
These shoes possess the property of instantly transporting him who has them on to the
place or the period in which he most wishes to be; every wish, as regards time or place, or
state of being, will be immediately fulfilled, and so at last man will be happy, here
below."
"Do you seriously believe it?" replied Care, in a severe tone of reproach. "No; he will be
very unhappy, and will assuredly bless the moment when he feels that he has freed
himself from the fatal shoes."
"Stupid nonsense!" said the other angrily. "I will put them here by the door. Some one
will make a mistake for certain and take the wrong ones--he will be a happy man."
Such was their conversation.
II. What Happened to the Councillor
It was late; Councillor Knap, deeply occupied with the times of King Hans, intended to
go home, and malicious Fate managed matters so that his feet, instead of finding their
way to his own galoshes, slipped into those of Fortune. Thus caparisoned the good man
walked out of the well-lighted rooms into East Street. By the magic power of the shoes he
was carried back to the times of King Hans; on which account his foot very naturally
sank in the mud and puddles of the street, there having been in those