“Those are frogs,” said the little maid. “But I think we shall soon hear the nightingale now.”
Then the nightingale began to sing. “That’s it,” said the little maid. “Listen, listen; and look—there it sits!” She pointed to a little gray bird up among the branches.
“Is it possible?” said the chamberlain. “I should never have thought the nightingale was like that. How common it looks! I suppose it has lost its color through a faintness caused by the unexpected sight of so many grand people.”
“Little nightingale,” said the kitchen-maid, “our gracious emperor wishes you to sing to him.”
“I will do so with the greatest pleasure,” said the nightingale, and it warbled a song in the most delightful fashion.
“Its singing sounds just like crystal bells,” said the chamberlain. “See how it works its little throat. I wonder that we have never heard it before. It will be a great success at court.”
“Shall I sing again to the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought the monarch was present.
“My excellent little nightingale,” said the chamberlain, “I have the honor to invite your attendance at a court festival tonight, when you will charm his Imperial Majesty with your fascinating singing.”
“My singing sounds best among the trees,” said the nightingale, but it went with them willingly when it understood that the emperor wanted it to come.
The palace had been splendidly decorated for the occasion. The porcelain walls and floors reflected the light of many thousands of golden lamps; the most beautiful flowers, all of the tinkling kind, were arranged in the corridors; and there was such a running to and fro as kept the bells in constant motion and filled one’s ears full of the tinkling.