ble
height, but the lovers could speak together by leaning from their
casements, and if this was impossible they could communicate by
sending written messages. When the lady's husband was at home she was
guarded carefully, as was the custom of the time, but nevertheless she
contrived to greet her lover from the window as frequently as she
desired.

In due course the wondrous time of spring came round, with white drift
of blossom and stir of life newly awakened. The short night hours grew
warm, and often did the lady arise from bed to have speech with her
lover at the casement. Her husband grew displeased by her frequent
absences, which disturbed his rest, and wrathfully inquired the reason
why she quitted his side so often.

"Oh, husband," she replied, "I cannot rest because of the sweet song
of the nightingale, whose music has cast a spell upon my heart. No
tune of harp or viol can compare with it, and I may not close my eyes
so long as his song continues in the night."

Now the lady's husband, although a bold and hardy knight, was
malicious and ungenerous, and, disliking to have his rest disturbed,
resolved to deal summarily with the nightingale. So he gave orders to
his servants to set traps in the garden and to smear every bough and
branch with birdlime in order that the bird might speedily be taken.
His orders were at once carried out, and the garden was filled with
nets, while the cruel lime glittered upon every tree. So complete were
the preparations of the serving-men that an unfortunate nightingale
which had made the garden its haunt and had filled it with music for
many a night while the lovers talked was taken and brought to the
knight.

Swiftly he bore the hapless bird to his wife's chamber, his eyes
sparkling with malicious glee.

"Here is your precious songster," he said, with bitter irony. "You
will be happy to learn that you and I may now spend our sleeping hours
in peace since he is taken."

"Ah, slay him not, my lord!" she cried in anguish, for she had grown
to associate the bird's sweet song with the sweeter converse of her
lover--to regard it as in a measure an accompaniment to his
love-words. For answer her husband seized the unhappy bird by the neck
and wrung its head off. Then he cast the little body into the lap of
the dame, soiling her with its blood, and departed in high anger.

The lady pitifully raised what was left of the dead songster and
bitterly lamented over it.

"Woe is me!"