"So, señorita, the caged bird can sing?"
"When her jailer wills it so, Don Pedro," I said softly, and smiled—and sighed—and gave a half-fearful glance over my shoulder; then added, in a lower whisper: "And when she wills otherwise, I must be silent."
"How, would she even keep a lock upon your lips?"
"Upon my lips—and my eyes also. Indeed, my very brows are under her jurisdiction, and are oft constrained to frown, against their will!"
"So!" he exclaimed; and I saw a sweet doubt creep over his face. "Must I place to her account the many frowns you have bestowed on me?"
"Si, señor—and add to those some others that would not be coerced."
The fire in his black eyes frightened me not a little as he whispered:
"If that be true, then grant me the rose in your bosom, lady!"
I lifted a trembling hand to the flower, and shot a frightened glance at the señora's quivering lashes.
"Oh! I dare not!" I murmured, and let my hand fall against the lute upon my knee. The jangling strings roused the pretended sleeper from her dreams.