Above the gray wall I saw Don Pedro's plumed hat passing by. He reached the gate and halted, gazing in with eager eyes. His quick glance compassed the green nook, passed over the sleeping figure, and fixed itself upon my face. The song died away; I leaned forward, smiling, and laid a warning finger on my lip. He made me a bow so courtly that the feather in his laced hat swept the ground. "So, senorita, 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, senor_--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 senora'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. She half rose, and, seizing a pillow from her couch, hurled it at me, saying angrily: "Here is for such awkwardness!" The soft missile failed of its proper mark; but found another in the green parrot, who was dangling, head downward, from his perch; and there was an angry squawk from the insulted bird. I threw a timorous glance toward the gateway, motioning the intruder away. He would have lingered, being to all appearances greatly angered at the discourteous treatment of my lady warder; but prudence prevailed, and he fell back out of sight, with a hand upon his heart, protesting dumbly. * * * * * The comedy had just begun. Now it must be played through to the end. It is a strange thing to see the zest with which my gentle jailer prepares, each day, an ambush for the unwary foe, and how he always falls into the trap--to be assailed by me with smiles, and soft complaints, piteous appeals for sympathy, and shy admissions of my tender friendship; which are always cut short by some well-contrived interruption or the sudden appearance of Dona Orosia on the scene. Though only a week has passed, already Don Pedro would take oath that I love him well. Early this morning I heard him underneath my window; and I was right glad of the chance to smile on him from behind the protecting bars. This meeting had not been of Dona Orosia's contriving, so I thought I would use it for my own ends.