hether he had
better jump into the Arno, 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; so he 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. She immediately looked at the wall where the dog's dress
usually hung; and there was the little lambskin.

"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 the neighbors came in, and amongst them the
painter. He took the boy between his knees, and questioned him; and,
in broken sentences, he soon heard the whole story, and also about the
Metal Pig, and the wonderful ride to the picture-gallery, which was
certainly rather incomprehensible. The painter, however, consoled
the little fellow, and tried to soften the lady's anger; but she would
not be pacified till her husband returned with Bellissima, who had
been with the police. Then there was great rejoicing, and the
painter caressed the boy, and gave him a number of pictures. Oh,
what beautiful pictures these were!--figures with funny heads; 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 that stood behind it had been sketched in.
Oh, if he could only draw and paint! He who could do this could
conjure all the world before him. The first leisure moment during
the next day, the boy got a pencil, and on the back of one of the
other drawings he attempted to copy the drawing of the Metal Pig,
and he succeeded. Certainly it was rather crooked, rather up and down,
one leg thick, and another thin; still it was like the copy, and he
was overjoyed at what he had done. The pencil would not go quite as it
ought,--he had found that out; but the next day he tried again. A
second pig was drawn by the side of the first, and this looked a
hundred times better; a