The Nightingale and the Rose

She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

And so the nightingale, moved by his great love, pressed herself against the thorn of the barren rose tree, whilst singing the song of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid. And so the tree produced a red rose, redder than all the roses of the spring. The nightingale died, with a long thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

But the girl frowned.

"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

From Oscar Wilde. Touche.