A young student was in love with a beautiful girl. He planned to take her to a dance that evening.
"I will not go to the dance," the girl said, "unless I have a red rose to wear. Last week, I wore one on my white dress, and everyone admired it. It made me so happy."
"I will bring you a red rose," the student promised, "and then you shall come to the dance with me." The girl was pleased.
The student searched his garden, but found no roses. Heartbroken, he sat on a bench and wept. "She will not come," he cried, "for I have no red rose to give her."
A nightingale watched from a tree. She loved the student and pitied his sorrow. "His eyes are red from crying," she thought. "I must find him a red rose."
She flew to a large garden and found a rose bush that loved music. "Would you like a song?" she asked.
"Yes, please," replied the bush.
"And I would like a rose in return," said the nightingale.
"Sing for me," said the bush, "and then you may pick one of my roses."
The nightingale sang a beautiful song. "Now I will take a red rose," she said.
"But I have no red roses," the bush lamented. "All of mine are white."
"I must have a red rose for the student I love," the nightingale insisted.
Seeing the sharp thorns on the bush, she had an idea. Beneath one large thorn grew a perfect white rose. The nightingale flew to the thorn and pressed it against her breast. With great pain, she drove it deep into her heart.
Her lifeblood flowed from the wound and stained the white rose a deep crimson. "Now it is red," she whispered. Taking the rose, she flew to the student's window, placed it on the sill, tapped the glass, and then fell lifeless into the street below.
The student heard the tap and opened his window. "A red rose!" he exclaimed with joy. "Who could have left such a gift?"
He rushed to the girl's house. "I have brought you the red rose!" he announced.
The girl glanced at it dismissively. "I no longer want it. A rich man has given me precious jewels, far more beautiful than a mere flower. He is taking me to the dance tonight."
Dejected, the student returned home. He threw the rose out the window, where it landed upon the dead nightingale.
Soon after, a cart wheel crushed both the rose and the bird. Passersby frowned and complained, "How dirty our street is! Look at that dead bird and that trampled flower."