could ring clearly, had been placed in the
passages. There was a running to and fro, and a thorough draught, and
all the bells rang so loudly that one could not hear one's self speak.

In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a golden perch
had been placed, on which the Nightingale was to sit. The whole Court
was there, and the little cook-maid had got leave to stand behind the
door, as she had now received the title of a real Court cook. All were
in full dress, and all looked at the little gray bird, to which the
Emperor nodded.

And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the
Emperor's eyes, and the tears ran down over his cheeks; then the
Nightingale sang still more sweetly, that went straight to the heart.
The Emperor was so much pleased that he said the Nightingale should have
his golden slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale declined
this with thanks, saying it had already received a sufficient reward.

"I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes--that is the real treasure to
me. An Emperor's tears have a peculiar power. I am rewarded enough!" And
then it sang again with a sweet, glorious voice.

"That's the most amiable coquetry I ever saw!" said the ladies who stood
round about, and then they took water in their mouths to gurgle when
anyone spoke to them. They thought they should be nightingales too. And
the lackeys and chambermaids reported that they were satisfied also; and
that was saying a good deal, for they are the most difficult to please.
In short, the Nightingale achieved a real success.

It was now to remain at Court, to have its own cage, with liberty to go
out twice every day and once at night. Twelve servants were appointed
when the Nightingale went out, each of whom had a silken string fastened
to the bird's legs, which they held very tight. There was really no
pleasure in an excursion of that kind.

The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and whenever two people met,
one said nothing but "Nightin," and the other said "gale"; and then they
both sighed, and understood one another. Eleven pedlars' children were
named after the bird, but not one of them could sing a note.

One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on which was written, "The
Nightingale."

"There we have a new book about this celebrated bird," said the
Emperor.

But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained in a box--an
artificial nightingale, which was to sing