-She promised me that she would dance with me if I would bring her red roses," murmured the

Student; "but in the whole garden there is not a single red rose left.

a single red rose left in the whole garden.

The Nightingale was listening to him from

the oak tree, and was looking at him through the leaves.

The Nightingale was listening to him from his nest in the oak, and was looking at him through the
leaves; when he heard this, he was astonished.

-Not a single red rose in the whole garden!

not a single red rose in the whole garden! -Oh, happiness depends even on such little things! I
have already studied everything the wise men have written, I know the secrets of philosophy, and
yet I am

unhappy not to have a red rose.

-At last we have here a real lover," said the nightingale to himself.

At last we have a real lover here," said the nightingale to himself. I have been

I have been singing to him night after night, though I do not know him; and night after night I have
told his story to the stars; and at last I see him now. His

hair is dark as the hyacinth flower, and his lips are as red as the rose, and his

his lips are as red as the rose he desires;

but passion has made his face pale to the color of ivory, and sadness has already put its mark on
his forehead.

Already sadness has put its mark on her forehead.

The Prince gives the ball to-morrow night," she

The Prince gives the ball to-morrow night," continued the Student, "and there

my beloved will be there. If I bring her a red rose

She'll dance with me till dawn. If I bring her

a red rose I'll hold her in my arms, and she'll lay her head on my shoulder

she will rest her head on my shoulder, and rest her

She'll rest her hand on mine. But as there is not

not a single red rose in my garden, I shall have to sit alone, and she will

sit alone, and she'll dance past me, without even looking at me

me, without even looking at me, and my heart will break.

heart.

-Now that's a real lover," the Nightingale kept thinking.

He's a real lover," the Nightingale kept thinking.

I sing and he suffers; what is joy to me is pain to him,

to him is pain. There is no doubt that love is

a thing to be admired, more precious than emeralds and rarer than white opals. Neither

with pearls nor with ointments can it be bought, because it is not sold in the markets. No

It cannot be bought in commerce nor weighed in the scales of gold.

scales of gold.

-The musicians will be seated on their

The musicians will be seated on their platform," said the Student, "and they will make music

the music from their instruments, and my beloved

will dance to the sound of harp and violin. She will dance

so lightly, that her feet will scarcely touch the ground, and the

the ground, and the courtiers, in their lavish costumes,

will form a circle around her to admire her.

But with me she will not dance, for I have not a red rose to give her.

red rose to give her.

And she threw herself down on the grass, and hiding her face in her hands

her face in her hands, she wept bitterly.

bitterly.

-Why is she crying?

–asked a green lizard that passed in front of him with its tail in the air.

Yes, why?

-Yes, why? -murmured a daisy to her neighbor, in a sweet and faint voice.

-She is crying for a red rose," explained the Nightingale.

explained the Nightingale.

-For a red rose? -exclaimed the others in chorus.

How ridiculous!
The lizard, who was a little cynical, burst out laughing with laughter.

The lizard, who was a little cynical, burst out laughing. Only the Nightingale understood the secret
of the Student's grief and,

perched silently on the oak tree, he meditated on the mystery of love.

on the mystery of love.

At last, he spread his dark wings and

soared into the air. It crossed like a shadow across the avenue

across the avenue, and like a shadow it glided through the garden.

glided across the garden.

In the middle of the meadow was a magnificent

rose bush, and the Nightingale flew to perch on one of its branches.

on one of its branches.

-I need a red rose," he said.

Give it to me and I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the rose bush refused, shaking its branches.

-My roses are white," he replied,

as the foam of the sea and whiter than the snow on the mountain.

and whiter than the snow on the mountain. But go to my sister, who grows by the old sundial, and
she may give you the

she may give you the flower you need.

you need.

The Nightingale flew to the big rose bush that grew by the old sundial.

grew beside the old sundial.

-Give me a red rose," he said, "and I will sing you my sweetest song.

I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the rose bush refused, shaking its foliage.

-My roses are yellow," he answered,

as yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sits on a throne of amber.

on a throne of amber, and yellower than the Narcissus that

than the Narcissus that blooms in the meadow. But

go and see my brother, who grows at the foot of the Student's

Student's window, and perhaps he may give you

the flower you need.

The Nightingale then flew to the old rose bush

rose bush growing at the foot of the Student's window.

-Give me a red rose," he said, "and I will sing you my sweetest song.

I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the rose bush refused, shaking its foliage.

-Red, indeed, are my roses," he replied.

he answered, "they are as red as the feet of doves, and redder than the coral fans

that glitter in the caverns of the ocean. But

winter froze my veins, and the frost withered my buds, and the storm broke my branches, and all
this year I shall not have any more

branches, and all this year I shall have no red roses. red.

-A red rose is all I need," cried the Nightingale.

-cried the Nightingale; "just one red rose!

Is there no way I can get it?

-There is a way," answered the rose-tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not say so.

But it is so terrible that I dare not tell you.

-Tell me," said the Nightingale, "I will not be frightened. I will not be frightened.

-If you want a red rose," said the rosebush, "you must build it with your music, in the moonlight,
and dye it with your music.

moonlight, and dye it with your heart's blood. You must sing with your breast resting on one of my
thorns. You must sing all night long

night, until the thorn pierces your heart

and your life's blood will flow in my veins and become mine....

will become mine...

-Death itself is a very high price for a red rose

For a red rose," murmured the Nightingale, "and life is sweet to all. It is pleasant to stand in the
green wood and watch the sun
in his chariot of gold and the moon in her chariot of pearls.

chariot of pearls. The scent of the hawthorn is sweet

hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that grow in the valley

that grow in the valley and the heather that blossoms on the

bloom on the hill. Love, however, is

better than life, and, lastly, what is the heart of a nightingale compared to the heart of a man in
love?

Of a man in love?

And, spreading his dark wings, the nightingale soared into the air, crossed over the garden

like a shadow, and like a shadow glided across the avenue.

The Student was still lying on the grass, as he had left it; and the tears did not dry in his wide eyes.

and the tears did not dry in his wide eyes.

-Cheer up! -cried the Nightingale to him.

Be glad, for you shall have your red rose!

I will build it with my music, in the moonlight, and I will dye it with my music.

and I will dye it with my heart's blood. The

I ask only that you be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, however wise it may be.

than Philosophy, however wise it may be, and it is more powerful than Force, however wise it may
be.

is more powerful than Force, however strong it may be. as it may be. The wings of Love are flames
of

flames of a thousand hues, and its body is the color of fire.

fire. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like wild myrrh. breath is like wild myrrh.

The Student looked up from the grass and listened, but he did not understand what the
Nightingale was saying, for he could only

the Nightingale, because he could only understand what was written in books.

what was written in books.

On the other hand, the holm oak understood and began to sway very sadly, as it

and began to sway very sadly, because it felt a deep affection for the little Nightingale who had
built the nest in its nest.

who had built a nest in its branches.

-Please sing me one last song," whispered the oak, "for I shall be very lonely when you are gone.

I shall be very lonely when you are gone.

And the Nightingale sang for the oak, and its

voice was like water falling from a silver pitcher. silver pitcher.

When the Nightingale's song was over, the Student got up and took out of his pocket a little
notebook and a pencil. a notebook and a pencil.

-I must admit that the bird has style," he said to himself as he walked along the sidewalk, "that
cannot be denied; but does he

but does it feel what it sings? I'm afraid not, he must be like so many artists, all style and no
sincerity. He would never sacrifice himself for anyone, he thinks

he thinks only of music and it is known that art is selfish.

selfish. However, I must admit that his voice gives very beautiful notes.

It's a pity they don't mean anything, or that they don't mean anything important to anyone!

Then she went into her bedroom, and, lying down on her bed, began again to

on his bed, began again to think of his love.

her love. After a few moments he fell fell asleep.

When the moon shone in the heavens, the

Nightingale flew to the rose bush, and rested his chest on the

on the largest of the thorns. All night long

he sang with his breast against the thorn,

and the cold, crystalline moon leaned down to listen. All night long he was singing thus leaning,
and the thorn was sinking deeper and deeper into his flesh

And his life's blood poured into the rose bush.

He sang first of the birth of Love

In the adolescent heart. Then, on

the highest branch of the rosebush blossomed a wondrous rose, petal after petal like song after
song.

song. At first it was pale, like the mist

that floats on the river; pale as the feet of the morning and silver as the wings of the dawn.

The rose that blossomed on the topmost branch of the

was like the reflection of a rose in a silver chalice, it was like the reflection of a rose in a silver
chalice, it was like the reflection of a rose in a silver chalice.

It was like the reflection of a rose in a silver chalice, it was like the reflection of a rose in a mirror of
water.

The rosebush cried out to the Nightingale to make him

to press his chest tighter against the thorn.

-Squeeze tighter, little Nightingale," cried the rosebush.

cried the rosebush, "or the day will come before you have

finished making the rose!

And the Nightingale pressed more tightly against the thorn, and more and more

thorn, and more and more its song grew, for now it sang of the

now sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a young man soul of a young man and a virgin.

And a delicate blush began to cover

the leaves of the rose, like the blush that covers the cheeks of the bridegroom

cheeks when he kisses the lips of his betrothed. fiancée.

But the thorn did not yet reach the heart of the heart, and the heart of the rose remained white,
for only the blood of a

blood of a nightingale can redden the heart of a rose. rose.

And the rosebush cried out to the Nightingale so that it would

to press itself even tighter against the thorn.

-Tighten up more, little Nightingale," cried the rose tree.

cried the rosebush, "or the day will come before you have

finished making the rose!

And the Nightingale pressed himself still tighter against the thorn, and the thorn at last reached
the rose.

the thorn, and the thorn at last reached its co

reason. A terrible pain pierced him. More and more bitter

more and more bitter was the pain, and more and more impetuous became his

became more and more impetuous, for now he sang

Love sublimated by death, Love that cannot imprison the grave.

cannot imprison the grave.

And the rose of the rosebush became cameresi like

the rose of the Eastern sky. Its crown of petals was purple as the heart of a ruby is purple.

of a ruby.

The Nightingale's voice was already fainting, its

its wings began to flutter, and a cloud fell over its eyes.

fell over his eyes. His song grew fainter and fainter

more and more, and he felt that something was clogging his throat.

Then he had a last burst of

music. At the sound of it the white moon forgot the dawn and lingered

dawn and lingered on the horizon. At the sound of it the red rose trembled with ecstasy.

red rose trembled with ecstasy and opened its petals to the morning freshness.

freshness of the morning. The echo carried the song to

the mountain cavern, and awoke the sleeping shepherds.

the sleeping shepherds. Then it sailed among the

river reeds that carried the message to the sea.

the sea.

-Look, look," cried the rosebush, "the rose is finished!

is finished!

But the Nightingale did not answer, for he was dead with the thorn in his heart.

It was about noon when the Student awoke; he opened the window and looked out.

and looked out.

-What a wonderful sight! -

he exclaimed. A red rose! I have never in my life seen

such a rose. It is so beautiful that I am

sure it has a very long Latin name.

He leaned over the balcony and cut it.

At once he put on his hat, and with the rose in his hand, he ran to the professor's house.

rose in his hand, he ran to the professor's house.

The professor's daughter was sitting near

near the door, reeling a skein of blue silk, with her little dog

blue silk, with her little dog at her feet.

-You said you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," exclaimed the Student.

Here is the reddest rose in all the world.

Tonight you will pin it on your heart, and as we dance together I will be able to tell you how much I
love you.

I love you. But the young girl frowned.

-I'm afraid it won't match my new dress.

I'm afraid it won't match my new dress.

the Chamberlain's nephew sent me some real jewels.

and everyone knows that jewels are more expensive than flowers. more expensive than flowers.

-You are an incorrigible ingrate," the Student said

sourly said the Student, and threw the rose angrily into the stream

into the brook where a carriage crushed it as it passed.

-Ungrateful? -said the girl, "I tell you that you are rude.

I tell you that you are rude. What are you, after all?

after all? Just a student, and I don't even think

that you wear silver buckles on your shoes, as the Chamberlain's nephew does.

And very haughtily she went into his house.

-What a stupid thing Love is!

-said the Student to himself as he walked along.

It is not half as useful as Logic, because it proves nothing and speaks to you.

it doesn't prove anything, and it always talks to you about things that never happen, and

things that never happen, and makes one believe truths that are not true. It is really not practical
at all, and as in these times to be practical is to be everything, I will return to Philosophy and the
study of Metaphysics.

And on arriving home, he opened a book full of dust, and began to read.

dusty book, and began to read.