In fact, she is like most arists; she is all style, without any sincerity.She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything. or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river- pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

实在她就像许多美术家一般，尽是仪式，没有诚心。她必不肯为人牺牲。她所想的无非是音乐，可是谁不知道艺术是为己的。虽然，我们总须承认她有醉人的歌喉。可惜那种歌音也是无意义，毫无实用。”于是，他回到自己室中，躺在他的小草垫的床上想念他的爱人。过了片时，他就睡去。

待月娘升到天空，放出她的光艳时，那夜莺也就来到玫瑰枝边，将胸口插在刺上。她胸前插着尖刺，整夜地歌唱，那晶莹的月亮倚在云边静听。她整夜的，啭着歌喉，那刺越插越深，她生命的血液渐渐溢去。

最先她歌颂的是稚男幼女心胸里爱恋的诞生。于是，那玫瑰的顶尖枝上结了一苞卓绝的玫瑰蕾，歌儿一首连着一首地唱， 花瓣一片跟着一片地开。起先，那瓣儿是黯淡的如同河上罩着的薄雾，黯淡的如同晨曦的交际，银灰的好似曙光的翅翼，那枝上玫瑰蕾就像映在银镜里的玫瑰影子或是照在池塘的玫瑰化身。