But where was she to be found? The Cavalier ran up one flight of steps, down another, through halls, and through passages; not one of all whom he met had ever heard of the nightingale; and the Cavalier returned to the Emperor, and said, ‘It must certainly be an invention of the man who wrote the book. Your Imperial Majesty must not believe all that is written in books; much in them is pure invention, and there is what is called the Black Art.’ ‘But the book in which I have read it,’ said the Emperor, ‘was sent me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot be untrue. I wish to hear the nightingale; she must be here this evening, and if she do not come, after supper the whole court shall be flogged.’ ‘Tsing-pe!’ said the Cavalier; and again he ran upstairs, and downstairs, through halls, and through passages, and half the court ran with him; for not one would have relished the flogging. Many were the questions asked respecting the wonderful nightingale, whom the whole world talked of, and about whom no one at court knew anything. At last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, ‘Oh yes! the nightingale! I know her very well. Oh! how she can sing! Every evening I carry the fragments left at table to my poor sick mother. She lives by the sea-shore; and when I am coming back, and stay to rest a little in the wood, I hear the nightingale sing; it makes the tears come into my eyes! it is just as if my mother kissed me.’ ‘Little kitchen maiden,’ said the Cavalier, ‘I will procure for you a sure appointment in the kitchen, together with permission to see His Majesty the Emperor dine, if you will conduct us to the nightingale, for she is expected at court this evening.’ So they went together to the wood, where the nightingale was accustomed to sing; and half the court went with them. Whilst on their way, a cow began to low. ‘Oh!’ said the court pages, ‘now we have her! It is certainly an extraordinary voice for so small an animal; surely I have heard it somewhere before.’ ‘No, those are cows you hear lowing,’ said the little kitchen-maid, ‘we are still far from the place.’ The frogs were now croaking in the pond. ‘That is famous!’ said the chief court-preacher, ‘now I hear her; it sounds just like little church-bells.’ ‘No, those are frogs,’ said the little kitchen-maid, ‘but now I think we shall soon hear her.’ Then began the nightingale to sing. ‘There she is!’ said the little girl. ‘Listen! listen! there she sits,’ and she pointed to a little grey bird up in the branches. ‘Is it possible?’ said the Cavalier. ‘I should not have thought it. How simple she looks! she must certainly have changed colour at the sight of so many distinguished personages.’ ‘Little nightingale!’ called out the kitchen-maid, ‘our gracious Emperor wishes you to sing something to him.’ ‘With the greatest pleasure,’ said the nightingale, and she sang in such a manner that it was delightful to hear her.