-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Ганс Христиан Андерсен
-
- Соловей
-
- Стр. 2/2
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
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
.
The
poor
emperor
could
hardly
breathe
,
he
seemed
to
have
a
weight
on
his
chest
,
he
opened
his
eyes
,
and
then
he
saw
that
it
was
Death
sitting
upon
his
chest
,
wearing
his
golden
crown
.
In
one
hand
he
held
the
emperor
’
s
golden
sword
,
and
in
the
other
his
imperial
banner
.
Round
about
,
from
among
the
folds
of
the
velvet
hangings
peered
many
curious
faces
:
some
were
hideous
,
others
gentle
and
pleasant
.
They
were
all
the
emperor
’
s
good
and
bad
deeds
,
which
now
looked
him
in
the
face
when
Death
was
weighing
him
down
.
’
Do
you
remember
that
?
’
whispered
one
after
the
other
;
’
Do
you
remember
this
?
’
and
they
told
him
so
many
things
that
the
perspiration
poured
down
his
face
.
’
I
never
knew
that
,
’
said
the
emperor
.
’
Music
,
music
,
sound
the
great
Chinese
drums
!
’
he
cried
,
’
that
I
may
not
hear
what
they
are
saying
.
’
But
they
went
on
and
on
,
and
Death
sat
nodding
his
head
,
just
like
a
Chinaman
,
at
everything
that
was
said
.
’
Music
,
music
!
’
shrieked
the
emperor
.
’
You
precious
little
golden
bird
,
sing
,
sing
!
I
have
loaded
you
with
precious
stones
,
and
even
hung
my
own
golden
slipper
round
your
neck
;
sing
,
I
tell
you
,
sing
!
’
But
the
bird
stood
silent
;
there
was
nobody
to
wind
it
up
,
so
of
course
it
could
not
go
.
Death
continued
to
fix
the
great
empty
sockets
of
his
eyes
upon
him
,
and
all
was
silent
,
so
terribly
silent
.
Suddenly
,
close
to
the
window
,
there
was
a
burst
of
lovely
song
;
it
was
the
living
nightingale
,
perched
on
a
branch
outside
.
It
had
heard
of
the
emperor
’
s
need
,
and
had
come
to
bring
comfort
and
hope
to
him
.
As
it
sang
the
faces
round
became
fainter
and
fainter
,
and
the
blood
coursed
with
fresh
vigour
in
the
emperor
’
s
veins
and
through
his
feeble
limbs
.
Even
Death
himself
listened
to
the
song
and
said
,
’
Go
on
,
little
nightingale
,
go
on
!
’
’
Yes
,
if
you
give
me
the
gorgeous
golden
sword
;
yes
,
if
you
give
me
the
imperial
banner
;
yes
,
if
you
give
me
the
emperor
’
s
crown
.
’
And
Death
gave
back
each
of
these
treasures
for
a
song
,
and
the
nightingale
went
on
singing
.
It
sang
about
the
quiet
churchyard
,
when
the
roses
bloom
,
where
the
elder
flower
scents
the
air
,
and
where
the
fresh
grass
is
ever
moistened
anew
by
the
tears
of
the
mourner
.
This
song
brought
to
Death
a
longing
for
his
own
garden
,
and
,
like
a
cold
grey
mist
,
he
passed
out
of
the
window
.
’
Thanks
,
thanks
!
’
said
the
emperor
;
’
you
heavenly
little
bird
,
I
know
you
!
I
banished
you
from
my
kingdom
,
and
yet
you
have
charmed
the
evil
visions
away
from
my
bed
by
your
song
,
and
even
Death
away
from
my
heart
!
How
can
I
ever
repay
you
?
’
’
You
have
rewarded
me
,
’
said
the
nightingale
.
’
I
brought
the
tears
to
your
eyes
,
the
very
first
time
I
ever
sang
to
you
,
and
I
shall
never
forget
it
!
Those
are
the
jewels
which
gladden
the
heart
of
a
singer
;
—
but
sleep
now
,
and
wake
up
fresh
and
strong
!
I
will
sing
to
you
!
’
Then
it
sang
again
,
and
the
emperor
fell
into
a
sweet
refreshing
sleep
.
The
sun
shone
in
at
his
window
,
when
he
woke
refreshed
and
well
;
none
of
his
attendants
had
yet
come
back
to
him
,
for
they
thought
he
was
dead
,
but
the
nightingale
still
sat
there
singing
.
’
You
must
always
stay
with
me
!
’
said
the
emperor
.
’
You
shall
only
sing
when
you
like
,
and
I
will
break
the
artificial
bird
into
a
thousand
pieces
!
’
Even
Death
himself
listened
to
the
song
and
said
,
’
Go
on
,
little
nightingale
,
go
on
!
’
’
Don
’
t
do
that
!
’
said
the
nightingale
,
’
it
did
all
the
good
it
could
!
keep
it
as
you
have
always
done
!
I
can
’
t
build
my
nest
and
live
in
this
palace
,
but
let
me
come
whenever
I
like
,
then
I
will
sit
on
the
branch
in
the
evening
,
and
sing
to
you
.
I
will
sing
to
cheer
you
and
to
make
you
thoughtful
too
;
I
will
sing
to
you
of
the
happy
ones
,
and
of
those
that
suffer
too
.
I
will
sing
about
the
good
and
the
evil
,
which
are
kept
hidden
from
you
.
The
little
singing
bird
flies
far
and
wide
,
to
the
poor
fisherman
,
and
the
peasant
’
s
home
,
to
numbers
who
are
far
from
you
and
your
court
I
love
your
heart
more
than
your
crown
,
and
yet
there
is
an
odour
of
sanctity
round
the
crown
too
!
—
I
will
come
,
and
I
will
sing
to
you
!
—
But
you
must
promise
me
one
thing
!
—
’
Everything
!
’
said
the
emperor
,
who
stood
there
in
his
imperial
robes
which
he
had
just
put
on
,
and
he
held
the
sword
heavy
with
gold
upon
his
heart
.
’
One
thing
I
ask
you
!
Tell
no
one
that
you
have
a
little
bird
who
tells
you
everything
;
it
will
be
better
so
!
’
Then
the
nightingale
flew
away
.
The
attendants
came
in
to
see
after
their
dead
emperor
,
and
there
he
stood
,
bidding
them
’
Good
morning
!
’