rst Lord how the old Emperor was. 'P!' said
he, and shook his head.

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed; the whole
Court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their
respects to the new Emperor. Everywhere in the halls and corridors
cloth was laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and everything
was still--very, very still. And nothing came to break the silence.

The Emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of
this deathlike stillness. If only someone would speak to him! If only
someone would sing to him. Music would carry his thoughts away, and
would break the spell lying on him. The moon was streaming in at the
open window; but that, too, was silent, quite silent.

'Music! music!' cried the Emperor. 'You little bright golden bird,
sing! do sing! I gave you gold and jewels; I have hung my gold slipper
round your neck with my own hand--sing! do sing!' But the bird was
silent. There was no one to wind it up, and so it could not sing. And
all was silent, so terribly silent!

All at once there came in at the window the most glorious burst of
song. It was the little living Nightingale, who, sitting outside on a
bough, had heard the need of her Emperor and had come to sing to him
of comfort and hope. And as she sang the blood flowed quicker and
quicker in the Emperor's weak limbs, and life began to return.

'Thank you, thank you!' said the Emperor. 'You divine little bird! I
know you. I chased you from my kingdom, and you have given me life
again! How can I reward you?'

'You have done that already!' said the Nightingale. 'I brought tears
to your eyes the first time I sang. I shall never forget that. They
are jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep and get strong
again; I will sing you a lullaby.' And the Emperor fell into a deep,
calm sleep as she sang.

[Illustration: The True Nightingale Sings to the Emperor]

The sun was shining through the window when he awoke, strong and well.
None of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead.
But the Nightingale sat and sang to him.

'You must always stay with me!' said the Emperor. 'You shall sing
whenever you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a
thousand pieces.'

'Don't do that!' said the Nightingale. 'He did his work as long as he
could. Keep him as you have done! I cannot build my nest in the Palace
and live here; but let me come whenever I like. I will sit