You first beheld the day through the bars of a prison in which you must live and die a captive, and the notion that beyond these bars lie a boundless horizon and liberty has never entered your head. Doubtless had such a thought crossed your mind, you would have crushed it as men are said to stifle the whisperings of the devil.
I was brought forth beneath the roof of an old deserted house in the corner of a wood. The first noise that fell upon my ears was the wind whistling through the trees. It was a sweet sound, the very thought of it wakes pleasant memories.
The first sight that met my eyes was that of my brothers poising themselves on the edge of the nest before flying away never to return. Soon I followed them.
While I was thus beginning my career, you had reached maturity, and your faint warblings had ripened into rich melody. Those who imprisoned you gave you food, and you blessed them for it. I should have cursed them, my gentle friend! When the sun shone brightly they placed your cage outside the window, never thinking that sunstroke might cut you off. No, you were their slave, so that all seemed for the best from your narrow point of view. As for myself, I followed the life of my nomadic tribe, sharing its toils and dangers, and gladly submitting to the privations experienced on our journeys. I became strong to suffer, and so long as I had free air, I forgot that there was little else in my lot worth having. To crown all, you readily accepted the husband provided for you, and implicitly obeyed his slightest wishes. It was of course necessary you should obey some one, and perhaps as well that your master should be your husband. You are now surrounded by a numerous family whom you love; you { 329} are a model wife and mother. My ambition does not extend so far. Were I surrounded by a bevy of little screamers such as yours, I should die. Your devoted and much-loved husband would also be a terrible bore. Love, alas! has torn my poor heart so deeply during the time it became its temporary abode, that I have barred the door for ever against the foolish passion.
I am aware of your cruel opposition to the recital of my griefs, and you were kind enough to attribute my fall to the slight importance I myself attached to the duration of a union you thought should be eternal. You are welcome to say whatever you like, but you need never hope to find the true clue to our misery in such unions.