all the wheels ran down and then the music ceased . The Emperor sprang up , and had his physician summoned , but what could HE do ! Then the clockmaker came , and , after a great deal of talking and examining , he put the bird somewhat in order , but he said that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out , and it was impossible to put in new ones . Here was a calamity ! Only once a year was the artificial bird allowed to sing , and even that was almost too much for it . But then the bandmaster made a little speech full of hard words , saying that it was just as good as before . And so , of course , it WAS just as good as before . So five years passed , and then a great sorrow came to the nation . The Chinese look upon their Emperor as everything , and now he was ill , and not likely to live it was said . Already a new Emperor had been chosen , and the people stood outside in the street and asked the First Lord how the old Emperor was . ` P ! ' said he , and shook his head . Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed ; the whole Court believed him dead , and one after the other left him to pay their respects to the new Emperor . Everywhere in the halls and corridors cloth was laid down so that no footstep could be heard , and everything was still -- very , very still . And nothing came to break the silence . The Emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of this deathlike stillness . If only someone would speak to him ! If only someone would sing to him . Music would carry his thoughts away , and would break the spell lying on him . The moon was streaming in at the open window ; but that , too , was silent , quite silent .
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Music bed calamity nation respects something spell stillness thoughts window