'whizz.' Then a spring burst, 'whirr' went all the wheels, and the music
stopped. The emperor jumped out of bed and sent for his private
physicians, but what good could they do? Then they sent for the
watchmaker, and after a good deal of talk and examination he got the
works to go again somehow; but he said it would have to be saved as much
as possible, because it was so worn out, and he could not renew the
works so as to be sure of the tune. This was a great blow! They only
dared to let the artificial bird sing once a year, and hardly that; but
then the music-master made a little speech, using all the most difficult
words. He said it was just as good as ever, and his saying it made it
so.

Five years now passed, and then a great grief came upon the nation, for
they were all very fond of their emperor, and he was ill and could not
live, it was said. A new emperor was already chosen, and people stood
about in the street, and asked the gentleman-in-waiting how their
emperor was going on.

'P,' answered he, shaking his head.

The emperor lay pale and cold in his gorgeous bed, the courtiers thought
he was dead, and they all went off to pay their respects to their new
emperor. The lackeys ran off to talk matters over, and the chambermaids
gave a great coffee-party. Cloth had been laid down in all the rooms and
corridors so as to deaden the sound of footsteps, so it was very, very
quiet. But the emperor was not dead yet. He lay stiff and pale in the
gorgeous bed with its velvet hangings and heavy golden tassels. There
was an open window high above him, and the moon streamed in upon the
emperor, and the artificial bird beside him.