"Ah, madam," he went on, as he sat down beside her, "and you are angry with your lord and master because he shuts you up in this strong-house? But, good heavens, it is the proof of his loving appreciation of your value."
"Oh, ay!" she answered in high contempt, "it is a sign of strong affection, doubtless."
"Madam, he lays his treasure where thieves cannot attain it. At least, poor man, so he fondly trusts!"
"And therefore the unhappy treasure is to be consumed by moth and rust," retorted the lady.
"Madam," said the fiddler, in a low voice, "I imagine that the owner of the treasure had reason to fear a more indelible stain——"
"How dare you!" she flashed upon him.
But he was picking his violin with a pensive air. Then he suddenly looked up at her and smiled.
"Ah! most gracious one, if I were the happy possessor of a bird of such brilliant plumage as yourself, I would——" He paused.
"You would what? Pray proceed." She was waiting for her triumph.
"I would open wide all the doors and bid it fly."