“Does he live here?” he asked her presently. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. The size and grandeur of the edifice, indeed, drew down the ridicule of several of the wits of the age: by one of whom—the facetious Tom Brown—it was said, "Bedlam is a pleasant place, and abounds with amusements; —the first of which is the building, so stately a fabric for persons wholly insensible of the beauty and use of it: the outside being a perfect mockery of the inside, and admitting of two amusing queries,—Whether the persons that ordered the building of it, or those that inhabit it, were the maddest? and, whether the name and thing be not as disagreeable as harp and harrow. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. Expiation. She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times.
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