he
shadows were full of faces. Everywhere the Emperor looked, there were
faces. Some were very, very ugly, and some were sweet and lovely; they
were all the things the Emperor had done in his life, good and bad.
And as he looked at them they began to whisper. They whispered, "DO YOU
REMEMBER THIS?" "DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?" The Emperor remembered so much
that he cried out loud, "Oh, bring the great drum! Make music, so that
I may not hear these dreadful whispers!" But there was nobody there to
bring the drum.

Then the Emperor cried, "You little gold nightingale, can you not sing
something for me? I have given you gifts of gold and jewels, and kept
you always by my side; will you not help me now?" But there was nobody
to wind the little gold nightingale up, and of course it could not sing.

The Emperor's heart grew colder and colder where Death crouched upon
it, and the dreadful whispers grew louder and louder, and the Emperor's
life was almost gone. Suddenly, through the open window, there came a
most lovely song. It was so sweet and so loud that the whispers died
quite away. Presently the Emperor felt his heart grow warm, then he
felt the blood flow through his limbs again; he listened to the song
until the tears ran down his cheeks; he knew that it was the little
real Nightingale who had flown away from him when the gold nightingale
came.

Death was listening to the song, too; and when it was done and the
Emperor begged for more, Death, too, said, "Please sing again, little
Nightingale!"

"Will you give me the Emperor's gold crown for a song?" said the little
Nightingale.

"Yes," said Death; and the little Nightingale bought the Emperor's
crown for a song.

"Oh, sing again, little Nightingale," begged Death.

"Will you give me the Emperor's sceptre for another song?" said the
little gray Nightingale.

"Yes," said Death; and the little Nightingale bought the Emperor's
sceptre for another song.

Once more Death begged for a song, and this time the little Nightingale
got the banner for her singing. Then she sang one more song, so sweet
and so sad that it made Death think of his garden in the churchyard,
where he always liked best to be. And he rose from the Emperor's heart
and floated away through the window.

When Death was gone, the Emperor said to the little Nightingale, "Oh,
dear little Nightingale, you have saved me from Death! Do not leave me
again. Stay with me on this little gold perch,