One night a peasant coming home from the fields heard the most melodious song of a bird. He stopped and listened. It sounded like the music of a flute, so soft and soulful, yet so full of life and joy. He wondered what bird could possibly pour forth such sweetness.
At last he followed the sound until he discovered it came from a little nightingale sitting on a spray of a tree. He stood entranced and listened, and while he listened he said:
What a special bird this little fellow would be! If I had her here in a cage I would never lose the music of her sweet voice.
And so he whistled to the bird, who stopped singing and came flying towards him. But the peasant only threw his net over her. Then he took her home, put a little rice into the cage, and sat down before it.
After a while the nightingale emptied the rice from the cage, but instead of eating it, she turned to the proud peasant and said:
Proud peasant, take care how you treat me; let me free, and I will sing to you night after night; but if you keep me captive I will fly away and you will never hear my song again.
But the proud peasant chuckled and said to himself:
What a good joke to have a little nightingale singing sweetly each evening beside my castle pond! My neighbours who live near me in the other side of the vale will hear her and insist on coming here to see her. Good dinners I shall get when they come to hear her sing.
So he gave no heed to the poor captive. The nightingale cried out:
Proud peasant, take care how you treat me; let me free, and I will sing to you night after night; but if you keep me captive I will fly away and you will never hear my song again.
But the peasant only laughed and said to himself:
Never hear her song again! She will sing night and morning mainly to please her master.
A few days passed. His friends came from the vale beside him; but the nightingale said not a word. The peasant held up before her the seed she liked most, and watched her feed upon it; but still she did not sing. At last the proud peasant lost all patience, and said to her:
Bird, you are free now, so sing if you like. I am sick of you and your stupid silence.
But the little nightingale stretched her wings and flew away to the very roof of the castle. There she felt safe from his greed and malice, and sat singing all night long a single plaintive note that echoed amongst the wide valley.
The miserable peasant rushed in haste to his door and stood and listened. At dawn he could bear it no more. He rushed back to his home, and cried like a child. He was now truly sorry for his greed and pride.