And the travelers told of it when they came home; and the learned men wrote many books about the town, the palace, and the garden.  But they did not forget the Nightingale; that was spoken of most of all; and all those who were poets wrote great poems about the Nightingale in the wood by the deep lake.

The books went all over the world, and a few of them once came to the Emperor.  He sat in his golden chair, and read, and read; every moment he nodded his head, for it pleased him to hear the fine things that were said about the city, the palace, and the garden.  “But the Nightingale is the best of all!”—­it stood written there.

“What’s that?” exclaimed the Emperor.  “The Nightingale?  I don’t know that at all!  Is there such a bird in my empire, and in my garden to boot?  I’ve never heard of that.  One has to read about such things.”

Hereupon he called his Cavalier, who was so grand that if any one lower in rank than he dared to speak to him, or to ask him any question, he answered nothing but “P!”—­and that meant nothing.

“There is said to be a strange bird here called a Nightingale!” said the Emperor.  “They say it is the best thing in all my great empire.  Why has no one ever told me anything about it?”

“I have never heard it named,” replied the Cavalier.  “It has never been presented at court.”

“I command that it shall come here this evening, and sing before me,” said the Emperor.  “All the world knows what I have, and I do not know it myself!”

“I have never heard it mentioned,” said the Cavalier.  “I will seek for it.  I will find it.”

But where was it to be found?  The Cavalier ran up and down all the stairs, through halls and passages, but no one among all those whom he met had heard talk of the Nightingale.  And the Cavalier ran back to the Emperor, and said that it must be a fable made up by those who write books.

“Your Imperial Majesty must not believe what is written.  It is fiction, and something that they call the black art.”

“But the book in which I read this,” said the Emperor, “was sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, and so it cannot be a falsehood.  I will hear the Nightingale!  It must be here this evening!  It has my high favor; and if it does not come, all the court shall be trampled upon after it has supped!”

“Tsing-pe!” said the Cavalier; and again he ran up and down all the stairs, and through all the halls and passages, and half the court ran with him, for the courtiers did not like being trampled upon.  There was a great inquiry after the wonderful Nightingale, which all the world knew, but not the people at court.

At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen.  She said:—­

“The Nightingale?  I know it well; yes, how it can sing!  Every evening I get leave to carry my poor sick mother the scraps from the table.  She lives down by the beach, and when I get back and am tired, and rest in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing.  And then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me!”