er her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song,
and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she
forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and
it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold
morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke
the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds
of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now;" but the
Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass,
with the 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 to-night 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."

"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily;
and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter,
and a cart-wheel went over it.

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and,
after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have
even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has;"
and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

"What a silly thing Love is!" said the Student as he walked away. "It is
not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is
always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making
one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical,
and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to
Philosophy and study Metaphysics."