In China, you know of course, the emperor
is Chinese,and everyone he has around him is Chinese too. Now this happened
many years ago, but that is just why the story is worth hearing, before
it is forgotten. The emperor's palace was one of the most magnificent in
the world. It was made entirely of fine porcelain, so precious and so fragile
and delicate that one really had to watch one's step. In the garden the
most unusual flowers were to be seen, and the most beautiful had fastened
to them silver bells that tinkled so that no one would go past without noticing
them.
Yes, everything had been very well thought out
in the emperor's garden,
and it stretched so far that even the gardener didn't know where it stopped.
If one kept on walking, one came to the loveliest forest with great trees
and deep lakes. The forest stretched all the way down to the sea, which
was blue and so deep that great ships could sail right in under the branches.
And in these branches lived a nightingale that sang so sweetly that even
the poor fisherman, who had so many other things to keep him busy, lay still
and listened when he was out at night pulling in his net.
