artificial bird sing, and that was almost too often; but then the musical director made a little speech, full of difficult words, and said it was just as good as ever—and so it was, of course, just as good as ever.
Five years had passed, when the whole of the country was threatened with a very great affliction, for the people were really fond of their emperor, and now he was ill, and it was said he was not expected to live.
A new emperor had already been chosen, and the people stood outside in the street and asked the chamberlain how it fared with their emperor.
"P!" he said, and shook his head. The emperor lay pale and cold in his large and gorgeous bed. .AH the court thought he was dead, and every one ran off to greet the new emperor; the footmen rushed out to gossip about it, and the chamber-maids gave a great coffee-party at the palace.
All the floors of the halls and the corridors had been covered with carpets, so that no footsteps should be heard, and therefore it was so silent, so quiet there. But the emperor was not dead yet; pale and stiff he lay in his splendid bed, with the long velvet curtains and the heavy golden tassels; high above, a window stood open and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird.
The poor emperor could scarcely breathe; he felt as if some one was sitting on his chest. He opened his eyes, and then he saw it was Death, who was sitting on his chest and had put on his golden crown, and held in one hand the emperor's golden saber and in the other his gorgeous banner, while round about were strange faces peering forth from among the folds of the large velvet bed-curtains; some of them were horrible, others kind and gentle-looking—they were the emperor's evil and good deeds, which were looking at him, now that Death sat over his heart.
"Do you remember that?" whispered one after the other. "Do you remember that?" And then they told him of so many things that the perspiration stood out on his brow.
"That I never knew!" said the emperor. "Music, music! The big Chinese drum!" he cried, "so that I may not hear all they say! "
And they went on, while Death sat nodding just like a Chinaman to everything they said.
"Music, music!" cried the emperor. "You blessed, little golden bird! Sing, do sing! I have given vou gold and precious things, I have myself hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing, do sing!"
But the bird remained silent; there was no one to wind it up, and it could not sing until this was done; but Death kept on staring at the emperor with his great hollow eyes, and everything was so still, so terribly quiet around them.
Suddenly the most lovely song was heard close to the window; it was the little, living nightingale, which sat outside on a branch; he had heard of the emperor's illness, and had therefore come to sing to him of life and hope; and as he sang the specters grew paler and paler, the blood began to
