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这时宫殿开了门，许多教士和大官都出来迎接他，伏在他身前，高声说道：“陛下便是先王的儿子，我们所期待的王！”
星孩儿就回答他们道：“我不是什么先王的儿子，我只是个叫花婆的儿子，我知道我很丑，你们为什么要说我好看呢？”
身穿镀金花甲，盔上绣着飞狮的那人便拿起盾牌给星孩儿当镜子，并叫道：“我王为什么说自己不好看呀？”
“啊！”星孩儿一照，立刻惊叫起来，他的脸又同当初一样，美丽的面容复原了，并且他还看见自己的眼睛里有一种从来不曾有过的东西。
教士和大官们便跪下来，对他说：“从前有位先知曾预言，统治我们的人就要在今天降临，所以请我王戴上这顶王冠，手持这个王杖，以正义与慈悲之心来做我们的国王吧！”
但星孩儿对他们说：“我不配做一国之君，因为我以前虐待过我的生身之母，如果我找不着她，得不到饶恕，我是绝不会罢休的，所以请让我走吧。虽然你们把王冠、王杖都拿来给我，但我必须再到其他地方去寻她，不能在这儿耽搁！”说完，就转头往城门的那条街望去。
啊，他突然发现，在围着兵士的人群中，他的母亲叫花婆竟然就在那儿，旁边站着那个坐在城门口向他讨要金子的麻风病人。
他高兴得大叫起来，立刻跑过去跪下来吻母亲双脚，用自己的眼泪去清洗那些历经风霜的伤痕。他在灰地上磕着头，好像心胆俱碎的人那样痛哭着：“母亲啊，我在得意的时候虐待了您，如今在我失意时，您要了我吧！母亲啊，我给您的是憎恨，可是我却想要您的爱！母亲啊，我曾抛弃了您，现在请您收留不争气的儿子吧！”但那叫花婆却不回答他。
他又伸手抱住那麻风病人的双腿，对他说：“我救过你三次，你替我求求她，让她再同我说一次话吧！”那麻风病人也不理他。
于是他又哭泣起来：“母亲啊，我痛苦得实在不能忍受了，饶恕我吧，让我再回森林里去好了！”这时叫花婆就把手搁在他头上，对他说声：“起来！”麻风病人也把手搁在他头上，也对他说声：“起来！”。
星孩儿站起身来，看着他们。啊，原来他们一个是国王，一个是王后。王后对他说：“这是你救助过的父亲。”国王又说：“这就是你用眼泪去洗她脚的母亲。”
他们抱住星孩儿的额头吻他，把他带回王宫，给他穿上华丽的衣服，戴上王冠，又把王杖交给他，治理那座河畔边的王城，做了那个地方的国王。从此以后，他做了很多有利民生的善事，作恶的术士也被赶走了。对于樵夫两口子，送去许多贵重的大礼，以报答他们的养育之恩。他们的儿女，也赐了很大的恩典。并且他还不准人们虐待鸟兽，教人们要有和爱、慈悲、亲切与向善之心，没吃的给他面包，没穿的给他衣服，从此国家就平安富庶起来。
然而他当政的时间并不长久，因为他所受的痛苦太深，所受的磨炼也太苦，三年后就死了，他死后继承王位的是一个很坏的国王。
★、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。”
From her nest in the holm…oak tree the Nightingale heard him， and she looked out through the leaves， and wondered。
“No red rose in all my garden！” he cried， and his beautiful eyes filled with tears。 “Ah， on what little things does happiness depend！ I have read all that the wise men have written， and all the secrets of philosophy are mine， yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched。”
“Here at last is a true lover，” said the Nightingale。 “Night after night have I sung of him， though I knew him not： night after night have I told his story to the stars， and now I see him。 His hair is dark as the hyacinth…blossom， and his lips are red as the rose of his desire； but passion has made his face like pale ivory， and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow。”
“The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night，” murmured the young Student， “and my love will be of the pany。 If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn。 If I bring her a red rose， I shall hold her in my arms， and she will lean her head upon my shoulder， and her hand will be clasped in mine。 But there is no red rose in my garden， so I shall sit lonely， and she will pass me by。 She will have no heed of me， and my heart will break。”
“Here indeed is the true lover，” said the Nightingale。 “What I sing of， he suffers： what is joy to me， to him is pain。 Surely Love is a wonderful thing。 It is more precious than emeralds， and dearer than fine opals。 Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it， nor is it set forth in the market…place。 It may not be purchased of the merchants， nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold。”
“The musicians will sit in their gallery，” said the young Student， “and play upon their stringed instruments， and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin。 She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor， and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her。 But with me she will not dance， for I have no red rose to give her”； and he flung himself down on the grass， and buried his face in his hands， and wept。
“Why is he weeping？” asked a little Green Lizard， as he ran past him with his tail in the air。
“Why， indeed？” said a Butterfly， who was fluttering about after a sunbeam。
“Why， indeed？” whispered a Daisy to his neighbour， in a soft， low voice。
“He is weeping for a red rose，” said the Nightingale。
“For a red rose？” they cried； “how very ridiculous！” and the little Lizard， who was something of a cynic， laughed outright。
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow， and she sat silent in the oak…tree， and thought about the mystery of Love。
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight， and soared into the air。 She passed through the grove like a shadow， and like a shadow she sailed across the garden。
In the centre of the grass…plot was standing a beautiful Rose…tree， and when she saw it she flew over to it， and lit upon a spray。
“Give me a red rose，” she cried， “and I will sing you my sweetest song。”
But the Tree shook its head。
“My roses are white，” it answered； “as white as the foam of the sea， and whiter than the snow upon the mountain。 But go to my brother who grows round the old sun…dial， and perhaps he will give you what you want。”
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose…tree that was growing round the old sun…dial。
“Give me a red rose，” she cried， “and I will sing you my sweetest song。”
But the Tree shook its head。
“My roses are yellow，” it answered； “as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne， and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower es with his scythe。 But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window， and perhaps he will give you what you wa