The Metal Pig

He took the boy on his knee and questioned him, and gradually he learned the whole story of the metal pig and the picture gallery. It wasn't easy to understand, but the painter comforted the child and calmed the woman, though she wasn't happy until Giuseppe returned with Bellissima, who had been among the soldiers. Then there was great rejoicing, and the painter patted the poor boy on the head, and gave him some pictures.

Oh, these were splendid. There were comical heads, but most important of all, the metal pig himself! Nothing could have been more wonderful! It was sketched in only a few strokes, but even the house behind it appeared clearly.

"Oh, if I could only draw and paint! I'd have the whole world before me!"

The next day, in the first lonely moment he had, the little boy found a pencil and, on the white side of one of the pictures, tried to copy the drawing of the metal pig, and he succeeded! It was a little crooked, a little one-sided, with one leg thick and the other thin, but it was recognizable, and it delighted him. The pencil wouldn't go as straight as it should, he realized. Next day another pig stood beside the first one, and this was a hundred times better; and the third one was so good anyone could tell what it represented.

But the glovemaking went badly, and he ran errands slowly; for he had learned from the metal pig that any picture may be put on paper, and the city of Florence is a complete picture book, if you only turn the leaves.

In the Piazza della Trinità stands a slender column, and on top of it stands the blindfolded Goddess of Justice with the scales in her hand. Soon she also stood on paper, and it was the little apprentice glovemaker who put her there. His collection grew, though they were still only copies of inanimate objects; but one day Bellissima came bouncing toward him. "Stand still!" he said. "I'll make a beautiful portrait of you to have among my pictures!"

But Bellissima wouldn't stand still, so he had to tie her up.