A long time went by, and then, at last,
the Emperor grew very ill, and was about
to die. When it was sure that he could
not live much longer, the people chose a
new emperor and waited for the old one
to die. The poor Emperor lay, quite cold
and pale, in his great big bed, with velvet
curtains, and tall candlesticks all about.
He was quite alone, for all the courtiers
had gone to congratulate the new emperor,
and all the servants had gone to talk it
over.
When the Emperor woke up, he felt a
terrible weight on his chest. He opened
his eyes, and there was Death, sitting on
his heart. Death had put on the Emperor's
gold crown, and he had the gold sceptre in
one hand, and the silken banner in the
other; and he looked at the Emperor with
his great hollow eyes. The room was full
of shadows, and the shadows were full of
faces. Everywhere the Emperor looked,
there were faces. Some were very, very
ugly, and some were sweet and lovely;
they were all the things the Emperor had
done in his life, good and bad. And as he
looked at them they began to whisper.
They whispered, "DO YOU REMEMBER THIS?"
"DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?" The Emperor
remembered so much that he cried out loud,
"Oh, bring the great drum! Make music,
so that I may not hear these dreadful
whispers!" But there was nobody there
to bring the drum.
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