“If you have not stolen it， you may say at home that they can send to the watch-housefor the dog.” Then they told him where the watch-house was， and went away with Bellissima.
Here was a dreadful trouble. the boy did not know whether he had better jump into theArno， or go home and confess everything. They would certainly kill him， he thought.
“Well， I would gladly be killed，” he reasoned; “for then I shall die， and go to heaven：”and so he went home， almost hoping for death.
the door was locked， and he could not reach the knocker. No one was in the street; sohe took up a stone， and with it made a tremendous noise at the door.
“Who is there?” asked somebody from within.
“It is I，” said he. “Bellissima is gone. Open the door， and then kill me.”
then indeed there was a GREat panic. Madame was so very fond of Bellissima. Sheimmediately looked at the wall where the dog's dress usually hung; and there was the littlelambskin.
“Bellissima in the watch-house!” she cried. “You bad boy! how did you entice her out?Poor little delicate thing， with those rough policemen! and she'll be frozen with cold.”
Giuseppe went off at once， while his wife lamented， and the boy wept. Several of theneighbors came in， and amongst them the painter. He took the boy between his knees， andquestioned him; and， in broken sentences， he soon heard the whole story， and also aboutthe Metal Pig， and the wonderful ride to the picture-gallery， which was certainly ratherincomprehensible. The painter， however， consoled the little fellow， and tried to soften thelady's anger; but she would not be pacified till her husband returned with Bellissima， who hadbeen with the police. Then there was GREat rejoicing， and the painter caressed the boy， andgave him a number of pictures. Oh， what beautiful pictures these were!—figures with funnyheads; and， above all， the Metal Pig was there too. Oh， nothing could be more delightful.By means of a few strokes， it was made to appear on the paper; and even the house thatstood behind it had been sketched in. Oh， if he could only draw and paint! He who could dothis could conjure all the world before him. The first leisure moment during the next day， theboy got a pencil， and on the back of one of the other drawings he attempted to copy thedrawing of the Metal Pig， and he succeeded. Certainly it was rather crooked， rather up anddown， one leg thick， and another thin; still it was like the copy， and he was overjoyed atwhat he had done. The pencil would not go quite as it ought，—he had found that out; butthe next day he tried again. A second pig was drawn by the side of the first， and this looked ahundred times better; and the third attempt was so good， that everybody might know whatit was meant to represent.
And now the glovemaking went on but slowly. The orders given by the shops in the townwere not finished quickly; for the Metal Pig had taught the boy that all objects may be drawnupon paper; and Florence is a picture-book in itself for any one who chooses to turn over itspages. On the Piazza dell Trinita stands a slender pillar， and upon it is the goddess ofJustice， blindfolded， with her scales in her hand. She was soon represented on paper， and itwas the glovemaker's boy who placed her there. His collection of pictures increased; but asyet they were only copies of lifeless objects， when one day Bellissima came gambolling beforehim： “Stand still，” cried he， “and I will draw you beautifully， to put amongst my collection.”
But Bellissima would not stand still， so she must be bound fast in one position. He tied herhead and tail; but she barked and jumped， and so pulled and tightened the string， that shewas nearly strangled; and just then her mistress walked in.
“You wicked boy! the poor little creature!” was all she could utter.
She pushed the boy from her， thrust him away with her foot， called him a mostungrateful， good-for-nothing， wicked boy， and forbade him to enter the house again. Thenshe wept， and kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. At this moment the painter enteredthe room. In the year 1834 there was an exhibition in the Academy of Arts at Florence. Twopictures， placed side by side， attracted a large number of spectators. The smaller of the tworepresented a little boy sitting at a table， drawing; before him was a little white poodle，curiously shaven; but as the animal would not stand still， it had been fastened with a stringto its head and tail， to keep it in one position. The truthfulness and life in this pictureinterested every one.
the painter was said to be a young Florentine， who had been found in the streets， when achild， by an old glovemaker， who had brought him up. The boy had taught himself to draw：it was also said that a young artist， now famous， had discovered talent in the child just as hewas about to be sent away for having tied up madame's favorite little dog， and using it as amodel. The glovemaker's boy had also become a GREat painter， as the picture proved; butthe larger picture by its side was a still greater proof of his talent. It represented a handsomeboy， clothed in rags， lying asleep， and leaning against the Metal Pig in the street of the PortaRosa. All the spectators knew the spot well. The child's arms were round the neck of the Pig，and he was in a deep sleep.
the lamp before the picture of the Madonna threw a strong， effective light on the pale，delicate face of the child. It was a beautiful picture. A large gilt frame surrounded it， and onone corner of the frame a laurel wreath had been hung; but a black band， twined unseenamong the GREen leaves， and a streamer of crape， hung down from it; for within the lastfew days the young artist had—died.