"Stop, brothers, stop!" cries the Monkey, "wait a little! How can we get our
music right? It's plain, you mustn't sit as you are. You, Mishka, with your
counter-bass, face the alto. I will sit opposite the second fiddle. Then a different
sort of music will begin: we shall set the very hills and forests dancing."
So they change places, and recommence; but the music is just as discordant as
before.
"Stop a little," exclaims the Ass; "I have found out the secret. We shall be sure to
play in tune if we sit in a row."
They follow its advice, and form in an orderly line. But the quartette is as
unmusical as ever. Louder than before there arose among them squabbling and
wrangling as to how they ought to be seated. It happened that a Nightingale
came flying that way, attracted by their noise. At once they all entreated it to
solve their difficulty.
"Be so kind," they say, "as to bear with us a little, in order that our quartette may
come off properly. Music we have; instruments we have: tell us only how we
ought to place ourselves."
But the Nightingale replies,
"To be a musician, one must have a quicker intelligence and a finer ear than you
possess. You, my friends, may place yourselves just as you like, but you will
never become musicians."
Demian's Fish Soup
"Neighbour, light of mine eyes! do eat a little more!"
"Dear neighbour, I am full to the throat."
"No matter; just a little plateful. Believe me, the soup is cooked gloriously."
"But I've had three platefuls already."
"Well, what does that matter? If you like it, and it does you good, why not eat it