“I wish it were a little pussy cat,” she said. But then the rose-tree with the
beautiful rose was unpacked.
“Oh, how nicely it is made,” exclaimed the ladies.
“It is more than nice,” said the emperor, “it is charming.”
The princess touched it and nearly began to cry.
“For shame, pa,” she said, “it is not artificial, it is natural!”
“For shame, it is natural” repeated all her ladies.
“Let us first see what the other case contains before we are angry,” said
the emperor; then the nightingale was taken out, and it sang so beautifully
that no one could possibly say anything unkind about it.
“Superbe, charmant,” said the ladies of the court, for they all prattled
French, one worse than the other.
“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box of the late lamented
empress,” said an old courtier, “it has exactly the same tone, the same
execution.”
“You are right,” said the emperor, and began to cry like a little child.
“I hope it is not natural,” said the princess.
“Yes, certainly it is natural,” replied those who had brought the presents.
“Then let it fly,” said the princess, and refused to see the prince.
But the prince was not discouraged. He painted his face, put on common
clothes, pulled his cap over his forehead, and came back.
“Good day, emperor,” he said, “could you not give me some employment
at the court?”
“There are so many,” replied the emperor, “who apply for places, that for
the present I have no vacancy, but I will remember you. But wait a moment;
it just comes into my mind, I require somebody to look after my pigs, for I
have a great many.”
