Now for me, I recognise no
master. I laugh at rules. What comparison between his pedantic method
and my glorious bursts?

The Cuckoo tried several times to interrupt the Nightingale. But
nightingales always go on singing, and never listen; that is rather
their weakness. Ours, carried away by his ideas, followed them with
rapidity, without paying the least attention to the answers of his
rival.

So after some talk and counter-talk, they agreed to refer their quarrel
to the judgment of a third animal. But where were they to find this
third, equally competent and impartial? It is not so easy to find a good
judge. They sought on every side. As they crossed a meadow, they spied
an Ass, one of the gravest and most solemn that ever was seen. Since the
creation of the world, no ass had ever had such long ears. 'Ah,' said
the Cuckoo, 'our luck is excellent; our quarrel is a matter of ears:
here is our judge. God Almighty made him for the very purpose!'

The Ass went on browsing. He little thought that one day he would have
to decide a question of music. But Providence amuses itself with this
and many another thing. Our two birds bow very low, compliment him upon
his gravity and his judgment, explain the subject of their dispute, and
beseech him, with all deference, to listen to their case and decide.

But the Ass, hardly turning his heavy head and without losing a single
toothsome blade, makes them a sign with his ears that he is hungry, and
that he does not hold his court to-day. The birds persist; the Ass goes
on browsing. At last his hunger was appeased. There were some trees
planted by the edge of the meadow. 'Now, if you like,' said he, 'you go
there, I will follow; you shall sing, I will digest; I will listen, and
I'll give you my opinion.'

The birds instantly fly away, and perch on branches. The Ass follows
them with the air and the step of a chief justice crossing Westminster
Hall: he stretches himself flat on the ground, and says, 'Begin, the
court listens.'

Says the Cuckoo: 'My lord, there is not a word to lose. I beg of you to
seize carefully the character of my singing; above all things, deign, my
lord, to mark its artifice and its method.' Then filling its throat, and
flapping its wings at each note, it sang out, 'Coucou, coucou, coucou,
coucou, coucou, coucou.' And after having combined this in every
possible way, it fell silent.

The Nightingale, without any prelude, pours forth his voice at once,
launc