THE METAL PIG [3]
plainly be seen, frisked about the room, and gambolled upon the boy.
"Innocent souls are soon intimate," said the woman, as she
caressed both the boy and the dog. These good people gave the child
food and drink, and said he should stay with them all night, and
that the next day the old man, who was called Giuseppe, would go and
speak to his mother. A little homely bed was prepared for him, but
to him who had so often slept on the hard stones it was a royal couch,
and he slept sweetly and dreamed of the splendid pictures and of the
Metal Pig. Giuseppe went out the next morning, and the poor child
was not glad to see him go, for he knew that the old man was gone to
his mother, and that, perhaps, he would have to go back. He wept at
the thought, and then he played with the little, lively dog, and
kissed it, while the old woman looked kindly at him to encourage
him. And what news did Giuseppe bring back? At first the boy could not
hear, for he talked a great deal to his wife, and she nodded and
stroked the boy's cheek.
Then she said, "He is a good lad, he shall stay with us, he may
become a clever glovemaker, like you. Look what delicate fingers he
has got; Madonna intended him for a glovemaker." So the boy stayed
with them, and the woman herself taught him to sew; and he ate well,
and slept well, and became very merry. But at last he began to tease
Bellissima, as the little dog was called. This made the woman angry,
and she scolded him and threatened him, which made him very unhappy,
and he went and sat in his own room full of sad thoughts. This chamber
looked upon the street, in which hung skins to dry, and there were
thick iron bars across his window. That night he lay awake, thinking
of the Metal Pig; indeed, it was always in his thoughts. Suddenly he
fancied he heard feet outside going pit-a-pat. He sprung out of bed
and went to the window. Could it be the Metal Pig? But there was
nothing to be seen; whatever he had heard had passed already. Next
morning, their neighbor, the artist, passed by, carrying a paint-box
and a large roll of canvas.
"Help the gentleman to carry his box of colors," said the woman to
the boy; and he obeyed instantly, took the box, and followed the
painter. They walked on till they reached the picture gallery, and
mounted the same staircase up which he had ridden that night on the
Metal Pig. He remembered all the statues and pictures, the beautiful
marble Venus, and again he looked at the Madonna with the Saviour
and St. John. They stopped before the picture by Bronzino, in which
Christ is represented as standing in the lower world, with the
children smiling before Him, in the sweet expectation of entering
heaven; and the poor boy smiled, too, for here was his heaven.
"You may go home now," said the painter, while the boy stood
watching him, till he had set up his easel.
"May I see you paint?" asked the boy; "may I see you put the
picture on this white canvas?"
"I am not going to paint yet," replied the artist; then he brought
out a piece of chalk. His hand moved quickly, and his eye measured the
great picture; and though nothing appeared but a faint line, the
figure of the Saviour was as clearly visible as in the colored
picture.
"Why don't you go?" said the painter. Then the boy wandered home
silently, and seated himself on the table, and learned to sew
gloves. But all day long his thoughts were in the picture gallery; and
so he pricked his fingers and was awkward. But he did not tease
Bellissima. When evening came, and the house door stood open, he
slipped out. It was a bright, beautiful, starlight evening, but rather
cold. Away he went through the already-deserted streets, and soon came
to the Metal Pig; he stooped down and kissed its shining nose, and
then seated himself on its back.
"You happy creature," he said; "how I have longed for you! we must
take a ride to-night."
But the Metal Pig lay motionless, while the fresh stream gushed