愛薇塔樂學英文

N the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del Granduca, runs a little street called Porta Rosa. In this street, just in front of the market-place where vegetables are sold, stands a pig, made of brass and curiously formed. The bright color has been changed by age to dark green; but clear, fresh water pours from the snout, which shines as if it had been polished, and so indeed it has, for hundreds of poor people and children seize it in their hands as they place their mouths close to the mouth of the animal, to drink. It is quite a picture to see a half-naked boy clasping the well-formed creature by the head, as he presses his rosy lips against its jaws. Every one who visits Florence can very quickly find the place; he has only to ask the first beggar he meets for the Metal Pig, and he will be told where it is.

It was late on a winter evening; the mountains were covered with snow, but the moon shone brightly, and moonlight in Italy is like a dull winter’s day in the north; indeed it is better, for clear air seems to raise us above the earth, while in the north a cold, gray, leaden sky appears to press us down to earth, even as the cold damp earth shall one day press on us in the grave. In the garden of the grand duke’s palace, under the roof of one of the wings, where a thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged boy had been sitting the whole day long; a boy, who might serve as a type of Italy, lovely and smiling, and yet still suffering. He was hungry and thirsty, yet no one gave him anything; and when it became dark, and they were about to close the gardens, the porter turned him out. He stood a long time musing on the bridge which crosses the Arno, and looking at the glittering stars, reflected in the water which flowed between him and the elegant marble bridge Della Trinità. He then walked away towards the Metal Pig, half knelt down, clasped it with his arms, and then put his mouth to the shining snout and drank deep draughts of the fresh water. Close by, lay a few salad-leaves and two chestnuts, which were to serve for his supper. No one was in the street but himself; it belonged only to him, so he boldly seated himself on the pig’s back, leaned forward so that his curly head could rest on the head of the animal, and, before he was aware, he fell asleep.

It was midnight. The Metal Pig raised himself gently, and the boy heard him say quite distinctly, “Hold tight, little boy, for I am going to run;” and away he started for a most wonderful ride. First, they arrived at the Piazza del Granduca, and the metal horse which bears the duke’s statue, neighed aloud. The painted coats-of-arms on the old council-house shone like transparent pictures, and Michael Angelo’s David tossed his sling; it was as if everything had life. The metallic groups of figures, among which were Perseus and the Rape of the Sabines, looked like living persons, and cries of terror sounded from them all across the noble square. By the Palazzo degli Uffizi, in the arcade, where the nobility assemble for the carnival, the Metal Pig stopped. “Hold fast,” said the animal; “hold fast, for I am going up stairs.”

The little boy said not a word; he was half pleased and half afraid. They entered a long gallery, where the boy had been before. The walls were resplendent with paintings; here stood statues and busts, all in a clear light as if it were day. But the grandest appeared when the door of a side room opened; the little boy could remember what beautiful things he had seen there, but to-night everything shone in its brightest colors. Here stood the figure of a beautiful woman, as beautifully sculptured as possible by one of the great masters. Her graceful limbs appeared to move; dolphins sprang at her feet, and immortality shone from her eyes. The world called her the Venus de’ Medici. By her side were statues, in which the spirit of life breathed in stone; figures of men, one of whom whetted his sword, and was named the Grinder; wrestling gladiators formed another group, the sword had been sharpened for them, and they strove for the goddess of beauty. The boy was dazzled by so much glitter; for the walls were gleaming with bright colors, all appeared living reality.

As they passed from hall to hall, beauty everywhere showed itself; and as the Metal Pig went step by step from one picture to the other, the little boy could see it all plainly. One glory eclipsed another; yet there was one picture that fixed itself on the little boy’s memory, more especially because of the happy children it represented, for these the little boy had seen in daylight. Many pass this picture by with indifference, and yet it contains a treasure of poetic feeling; it represents Christ descending into Hades. They are not the lost whom the spectator sees, but the heathen of olden times. The Florentine, Angiolo Bronzino, painted this picture; most beautiful is the expression on the face of the two children, who appear to have full confidence that they shall reach heaven at last. They are embracing each other, and one little one stretches out his hand towards another who stands below him, and points to himself, as if he were saying, “I am going to heaven.” The older people stand as if uncertain, yet hopeful, and they bow in humble adoration to the Lord Jesus. On this picture the boy’s eyes rested longer than on any other: the Metal Pig stood still before it. A low sigh was heard. Did it come from the picture or from the animal? The boy raised his hands towards the smiling children, and then the Pig ran off with him through the open vestibule.

“Thank you, thank you, you beautiful animal,” said the little boy, caressing the Metal Pig as it ran down the steps.

“Thanks to yourself also,” replied the Metal Pig; “I have helped you and you have helped me, for it is only when I have an innocent child on my back that I receive the power to run. Yes; as you see, I can even venture under the rays of the lamp, in front of the picture of the Madonna, but I may not enter the church; still from without, and while you are upon my back, I may look in through the open door. Do not get down yet, for if you do, then I shall be lifeless, as you have seen me in the Porta Rosa.”

“I will stay with you, my dear creature,” said the little boy. So then they went on at a rapid pace through the streets of Florence, till they came to the square before the church of Santa Croce. The folding-doors flew open, and light streamed from the altar through the church into the deserted square. A wonderful blaze of light streamed from one of the monuments in the left-side aisle, and a thousand moving stars seemed to form a glory round it; even the coat-of-arms on the tomb-stone shone, and a red ladder on a blue field gleamed like fire. It was the grave of Galileo. The monument is unadorned, but the red ladder is an emblem of art, signifying that the way to glory leads up a shining ladder, on which the prophets of mind rise to heaven, like Elias of old. In the right aisle of the church every statue on the richly carved sarcophagi seemed endowed with life. Here stood Michael Angelo; there Dante, with the laurel wreath round his brow; Alfieri and Machiavelli; for here side by side rest the great men—the pride of Italy.¹ The church itself is very beautiful, even more beautiful than the marble cathedral at Florence, though not so large. It seemed as if the carved vestments stirred, and as if the marble figures they covered raised their heads higher, to gaze upon the brightly colored glowing altar where the white-robed boys swung the golden censers, amid music and song, while the strong fragrance of incense filled the church, and streamed forth into the square. The boy stretched forth his hands towards the light, and at the same moment the Metal Pig started again so rapidly that he was obliged to cling tightly to him. The wind whistled in his ears, he heard the church door creak on its hinges as it closed, and it seemed to him as if he had lost his senses— then a cold shudder passed over him, and he awoke.

It was morning; the Metal Pig stood in its old place on the Porta Rosa, and the boy found he had slipped nearly off its back. Fear and trembling came upon him as he thought of his mother; she had sent him out the day before to get some money, he had not done so, and now he was hungry and thirsty. Once more he clasped the neck of his metal horse, kissed its nose, and nodded farewell to it. Then he wandered away into one of the narrowest streets, where there was scarcely room for a loaded donkey to pass. A great iron-bound door stood ajar; he passed through, and climbed up a brick staircase, with dirty walls and a rope for a balustrade, till he came to an open gallery hung with rags. From here a flight of steps led down to a court, where from a well water was drawn up by iron rollers to the different stories of the house, and where the water-buckets hung side by side. Sometimes the roller and the bucket danced in the air, splashing the water all over the court. Another broken-down staircase led from the gallery, and two Russian sailors running down it almost upset the poor boy. They were coming from their nightly carousal. A woman not very young, with an unpleasant face and a quantity of black hair, followed them. “What have you brought home?” she asked. when she saw the boy.

“Don’t be angry,” he pleaded; “I received nothing, I have nothing at all;” and he seized his mother’s dress and would have kissed it. Then they went into a little room. I need not describe it, but only say that there stood in it an earthen pot with handles, made for holding fire, which in Italy is called a marito. This pot she took in her lap, warmed her fingers, and pushed the boy with her elbow.

“Certainly you must have some money,” she said. The boy began to cry, and then she struck him with her foot till he cried out louder.

“Will you be quiet? or I’ll break your screaming head;” and she swung about the fire-pot which she held in her hand, while the boy crouched to the earth and screamed.

Then a neighbor came in, and she had also a marito under her arm. “Felicita,” she said, “what are you doing to the child?”

“The child is mine,” she answered; “I can murder him if I like, and you too, Giannina.” And then she swung about the fire-pot. The other woman lifted up hers to defend herself, and the two pots clashed together so violently that they were dashed to pieces, and fire and ashes flew about the room. The boy rushed out at the sight, sped across the courtyard, and fled from the house. The poor child ran till he was quite out of breath; at last he stopped at the church, the doors of which were opened to him the night before, and went in. Here everything was bright, and the boy knelt down by the first tomb on his right, the grave of Michael Angelo, and sobbed as if his heart would break. People came and went, mass was performed, but no one noticed the boy, excepting an elderly citizen, who stood still and looked at him for a moment, and then went away like the rest. Hunger and thirst overpowered the child, and he became quite faint and ill. At last he crept into a corner behind the marble monuments, and went to sleep. Towards evening he was awakened by a pull at his sleeve; he started up, and the same old citizen stood before him.

“Are you ill? where do you live? have you been here all day?” were some of the questions asked by the old man. After hearing his answers, the old man took him home to a small house close by, in a back street. They entered a glovemaker’s shop, where a woman sat sewing busily. A little white poodle, so closely shaven that his pink skin could 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 forth from its mouth. The little boy still sat astride on its back, when he felt something pulling at his clothes. He looked down, and there was Bellissima, little smooth-shaven Bellissima, barking as if she would have said, “Here I am too; why are you sitting there?”

A fiery dragon could not have frightened the little boy so much as did the little dog in this place. “Bellissima in the street, and not dressed!” as the old lady called it; “what would be the end of this?”

The dog never went out in winter, unless she was attired in a little lambskin coat which had been made for her; it was fastened round the little dog’s neck and body with red ribbons, and was decorated with rosettes and little bells. The dog looked almost like a little kid when she was allowed to go out in winter, and trot after her mistress. And now here she was in the cold, and not dressed. Oh, how would it end? All his fancies were quickly put to flight; yet he kissed the Metal Pig once more, and then took Bellissima in his arms. The poor little thing trembled so with cold, that the boy ran homeward as fast as he could.

“What are you running away with there?” asked two of the police whom he met, and at whom the dog barked. “Where have you stolen that pretty dog?” they asked; and they took it away from him.

“Oh, I have not stolen it; do give it to me back again,” cried the boy, despairingly.

“If you have not stolen it, you may say at home that they can send to the watch-house for 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 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; and the third attempt was so good, that everybody might know what it was meant to represent.

And now the glovemaking went on but slowly. The orders given by the shops in the town were not finished quickly; for the Metal Pig had taught the boy that all objects may be drawn upon paper; and Florence is a picture-book in itself for any one who chooses to turn over its pages. On the Piazza dell Trinita stands a slender pillar, and upon it is the goddess of Justice, blindfolded, with her scales in her hand. She was soon represented on paper, and it was the glovemaker’s boy who placed her there. His collection of pictures increased; but as yet they were only copies of lifeless objects, when one day Bellissima came gambolling before him: “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 her head and tail; but she barked and jumped, and so pulled and tightened the string, that she was 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 most ungrateful, good-for-nothing, wicked boy, and forbade him to enter the house again. Then she wept, and kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. At this moment the painter entered the room. In the year 1834 there was an exhibition in the Academy of Arts at Florence. Two pictures, placed side by side, attracted a large number of spectators. The smaller of the two represented 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 string to its head and tail, to keep it in one position. The truthfulness and life in this picture interested every one. The painter was said to be a young Florentine, who had been found in the streets, when a child, 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 he was about to be sent away for having tied up madame’s favorite little dog, and using it as a model. The glovemaker’s boy had also become a great painter, as the picture proved; but the larger picture by its side was a still greater proof of his talent. It represented a handsome boy, clothed in rags, lying asleep, and leaning against the Metal Pig in the street of the Porta Rosa. 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 on one corner of the frame a laurel wreath had been hung; but a black band, twined unseen among the green leaves, and a streamer of crape, hung down from it; for within the last few days the young artist had—died.

1. Opposite to the grave of Galileo is the tomb of Michael Angelo. His bust stands upon it, with three figures, representing sculpture, painting and architecture. Close by is a monument to Dante, whose body is buried in Ravenna. On this monument Italy is represented pointing to the colossal statue of Dante, while poetry weeps over his loss. A few steps farther is Alfieri’s monumnet, which is adorned with laurel, the lyre, and dramatic masks: Italy weeps over the grave. Machiavelli is the last in the list of these celebrated men.

Ñ ​​佛羅倫薩的城市，來自不遠處的廣場Piazza del Granduca的，運行一個小街上叫的Porta羅莎。在這條街上，就在市場的地方，蔬菜銷往全國前面，矗立著一頭豬，由黃銅製成，並好奇地形成。明亮的顏色已經由年齡為墨綠色改變; 但明確的，新鮮的水從鼻子，發出光芒，猶如經拋光處理，所以確實有，數百窮人和兒童的把握在他們手中，他們把自己的嘴巴貼近動物的口盆滿缽滿，喝。這是一個相當圖片可查看半裸男孩緊緊抱住了良好的生物的頭，因為他按下了反對它的顎紅潤的嘴唇。每個人誰訪問佛羅倫薩可以很快找到的地方; 他只要求他遇見了金豬第一乞丐，他會被告知在哪裡。

它是在一個冬天的深夜; 山上覆蓋著白雪，但月亮放射出美麗的光彩，和月光在意大利是像一個沉悶的冬日在北方; 的確是更好的，清晰的空氣似乎提高我們在地球之上，而在北方寒冷，灰色，鉛灰色的天空中出現按我們腳踏實地，即使在寒冷潮濕的泥土須於我們一天記者在墳墓。在大公的宮殿的花園，一個翅膀，其中千朵玫瑰盛開在冬天的屋簷下，一個衣衫襤褸的小男孩一直坐在了整整一天長; 一個男孩，誰可以作為一個意大利式的，可愛的，面帶微笑，但仍然痛苦。他又飢又渴，但沒有人給他; 當它變得黑暗，和他們即將關閉的花園，看門的把他翻出來。他站在一個很長的時間在沉思橫跨阿諾的橋樑，看著閃閃發光的星星，體現在他和典雅的大理石橋之間流動的水德拉的Trinità。然後他走開了朝金豬，半跪下，緊緊地握住它與他的手臂，然後把他的嘴閃亮吻，喝新鮮水吃水深。附近，打下了一些沙拉葉和兩個栗子，這是要服務於他的晚飯。沒有人在街上，但他自己; 只有它屬於他的，所以他大膽地坐在自己對豬的背部，身體前傾，使他的大腦袋可以休息的動物的頭，並且，之前他知道，他睡著了。

已經是半夜了。在金豬抬起身子輕輕的，男孩聽到他說很明顯，“抱緊，小男孩，因為我將要運行”，以及遠離他開始了最美妙的旅程。首先，他們來到了廣場Piazza del Granduca的，和金屬馬負有公爵的雕像，neighed出聲來。繪大衣胳膊上的老議會內部照般透明的圖片，和米開朗琪羅的大衛拋出他的吊索; 這是因為，如果一切有生命。數字，其中是英仙座和薩賓的強姦的金屬組，看上去像生的人，和恐怖的呼喊從他們一切聽起來整個高貴的廣場。由宮德利阿布魯烏菲齊，在商場，那裡的貴族聚集的狂歡節，在金豬停了下來。“堅守”之稱的動物; “抱緊，為我準備了樓梯。”

小男孩一句話也沒有說; 他是一半高興，一半害怕。他們進入了一個很長的畫廊，那裡的男孩已經之前。牆壁上燦爛的繪畫; 站在這裡的是雕像和半身像，都在一個明確的光，就好像它是一天。但最宏偉的出現，當旁邊的房間的門開了; 小男孩能記得什麼美麗的東西，他看到那裡，但今天晚上一切都照在其最明亮的顏色。站在這裡的是一個美麗的女人的身影，如雕刻精美盡可能由偉大的大師之一。她曼妙的肢體似乎移動; 海豚撲向她的腳，並從她的眼睛裡閃爍著不朽。世界稱她為維納斯美第奇。她身旁人的雕像，其中生活的精神在石頭呼吸; 男性人物，其中一人激起了他的劍，並被評為磨床; 摔角鬥士形成另一組，劍已經磨他們，他們爭取美的女神。該男孩被這麼多眼花繚亂的閃耀; 為牆壁用明亮的色彩閃爍，都出現了活生生的現實。

當他們經過從大廳到大廳，處處美景呈現本身; 而作為金豬去一步從一個畫面到另一個步驟中，小男孩能看到這一切明明白白。榮光黯然失色他人; 但有一個畫面是固定本身對小男孩的記憶，更特別的快樂兒童它所代表的，因為，對於這些，小男孩在白天見過。許多通過這幅畫與冷漠，但它包含的詩意一寶; 它代表基督降入地獄。他們是不是失去了誰的觀眾看到，但古代的異教徒。佛羅倫薩，Angiolo Bronzino，畫這幅畫; 最漂亮的是兩個孩子，誰似乎有充分的信心，他們將在最後到達天堂的臉上的表情。他們互相擁抱，和一個小傢伙伸出他的手推向另一個誰站在他下面，並指向自己，好像在說：“我要去天堂。”老人們站在彷彿不明朗，但充滿希望，他們在簡陋的崇拜低頭的主耶穌。在這張照片上的男孩的眼睛休息時間比任何其他：在金豬站定之前。低嘆息也沒有。它來自的圖片或從動物？男孩舉起雙手朝微笑的孩子，然後把豬跑了。他通過公開前庭。

“謝謝你，謝謝你，你美麗的動物”之稱的小男孩，撫摸著金豬，因為它跑下台階。

“多虧了你自己也”，回复了金豬; “我已經幫你，你幫了我，因為只有當我有在我的背上一個無辜的孩子，我收到運行功率。是的; 正如你看到的，我什至可以在燈的光線冒險，在麥當娜的照片面前，但我可能不會進入教會; 還從沒有，雖然你是在我的背上，我可以通過敞開的門看的。別失望的是，因為如果這樣做，那麼我將是沒有生命的，因為你們已經看見我在的Porta羅莎。“

“我會陪著你，我親愛的生物，”小男孩說。所以後來他們繼續以迅猛的速度穿過佛羅倫薩的大街小巷，直到他們來到廣場的教堂前，聖十字教堂。的折門突然打開，並從祭壇通過教會的無人地帶方形光流。光一個美妙的火焰從左側過道的古蹟之一流，千動人明星似乎形成圓它的榮耀; 即使是外套，武器上的墓，石照耀，並在藍色領域一個紅色的階梯燦爛如火災。這是伽利略的墳墓。該碑是樸實的，但紅梯是藝術的象徵，標誌著該方式來榮耀帶領了一個閃亮的階梯，在其心目中的先知升到天上，像老埃利亞斯。在教堂的右邊過道每一個雕像，雕刻華麗的石棺彷彿被賦予了生命。在這裡，站在米開朗琪羅; 有但丁，與桂冠圓他的額頭; 阿爾菲和馬基雅維裡; 在這裡並排安息意大利的偉人-的驕傲。¹教堂本身很漂亮，甚至比在佛羅倫薩的大教堂大理石更漂亮，雖然不是那麼大。它彷彿刻法衣攪拌，因為如果他們覆蓋了大理石人物抬頭走高，因顏色鮮豔的光輝祭壇那裡的白袍男孩掄起金色的香爐，在一片音樂和歌曲凝視，而強烈的香味香充滿了教堂，和流出來進入廣場。男孩伸出他的手走向光明，並在同一時刻的金豬又開始得如此之快，他不得不緊緊地抱住他。吹了聲口哨在他耳邊的風，他聽到教堂的門吱吱其鉸鏈，因為它關閉，並在他看來，彷彿他已經失去了他的感官，然後越過他感冒不寒而栗，他醒了過來。

這是早晨; 在金豬在老地方站上的Porta羅莎，而男孩發現他已經下滑近了它的後面。恐懼戰兢臨到他，因為他想到他的母親; 她那天送他出來之前，得到一些錢，他沒有這樣做，現在他又飢又渴。他又一次緊握著他的金屬馬脖子，吻了它的鼻子，點點頭告別它。然後，他悄悄地溜走了成一個最窄的街道，那裡有幾乎沒有餘地加載毛驢來傳遞。一個偉大的鐵結合門口站著半掩; 他穿了過去，爬上樓梯磚，用骯髒的牆壁和一根繩子的欄杆，直到他來到一個露天走廊上掛著破布。從這裡的步驟飛行的帶領下來到法庭，其中來自井水章是由鐵輥的房子不同的故事，和那裡的水水桶掛相映成趣。有時輥和鬥舞在空中，濺水滿場。從畫廊另一個破舊的樓梯領導和​​兩名俄羅斯水手跑下來，幾乎打亂了可憐的孩子。他們從每晚圓盤傳送帶要來。一個女人年紀不小了，有一個不愉快的臉和黑色的秀發，跟在他們後面。“你有什麼帶回家？”她問。當她看到男孩。

“別生氣，”他懇求道; “我收到了什麼，我什麼都沒有，”他抓住他母親的禮服和會吻了一下。然後他們走進一個小房間。我需要的不是形容它，但只能說是有它站在一個瓦盆帶手柄，舉行火，這在意大利被稱為製成marito。這鍋，她參加了她的腿上，溫暖她的手指，並推動了男孩她的胳膊肘。

“當然，你必須有一些錢，”她​​說。男孩哭了起來，然後她打了他與她的腳，直到他哭了出來大聲。

“你安靜點？不然我就打破你的頭尖叫，“她繞著火煲這是她在她的手舉行，而男孩蹲在地球和尖叫。

然後，鄰居進來了，她也有一個marito在她的胳膊。“FELICITA，”她說，“你在做什麼給孩子？”

“孩子是我的，”她回答; “我可以殺了他，如果我喜歡，你也GIANNINA。”然後她繞著火煲。其他的女人舉起她為自己辯護，和兩個盆一起發生衝突如此激烈，他們成了肉醬，與火和灰燼亂飛的房間。男孩衝出的視線，穿過庭院加速，並從屋裡逃走。這個可憐的孩子跑了，直到他已經上氣不接下氣了; 最後他停在教堂，其中的門被打開了他的前一天晚上，走了進去這裡一切都是明亮的，男孩跪在他的右邊，米開朗琪羅的墳墓第一墓，抽泣起來彷彿他的心臟都要碎了。人們來了又走，進行質量，但沒有人注意到這個男孩，除一位年長的公民，誰站著不動，看著他一會兒，然後就走了樣休息。飢餓和乾渴制服的孩子，他變得非常微弱和虐待。最後，他悄悄潛入背後的大理石紀念碑一個角落，睡覺去了。到了傍晚，他被一拉他的袖子驚醒; 他開始了和老公民，站在他面前。

“你生病了嗎？你住在哪裡？你來過一整天？“被一些問老人的問題。聽了他的回答後，老人帶他回家的小房子附近，在一個背街。他們進入了一個glovemaker的店，那裡的一位婦女正忙著坐在縫紉機。一個白色的小獅子狗，如此緊密剃光他的粉紅色的皮膚可以清楚地看出，搜身在房間裡，並gambolled到了男孩。

“無辜的靈魂是很快親密，”女人說，她撫摸著兩個男孩和狗。這些善良的人給孩子的食物和飲料，並說他應該留在他們整個晚上，而第二天，老人，誰被稱為朱塞佩，會去和他的母親說話。有點溫馨的床上為他準備了，但他誰曾因此經常睡在堅硬的石塊這是一個皇室沙發上，他甜甜地睡，夢想燦爛的圖片和金豬的。朱塞佩出去，第二天早上，可憐的孩子是不是很高興看到他走，因為他知道，老人去了，他的母親，而且，也許，他會要回去。他哭了在思想，然後他與小，活潑的狗玩，吻了一下，而老婦人親切地看著他，鼓勵他。並沒有朱塞佩帶來什麼消息了？起初，男孩聽不見，因為他談了很多，他的妻子，她點點頭，撫摸著男孩的臉頰。

然後她說，“他是個好小伙子，他要和我們住在一起，他有可能成為一個聰明的glovemaker，像你這樣的。外觀纖細的手指，他已經得到了; 麥當娜打算他一glovemaker“於是，男孩和他們呆在一起，和那個女人自己教他縫; 和他吃不好，睡不好，而且變得非常快樂。但最後他就開始逗的Bellissima，因為小狗被調用。這讓女人生氣，她罵他，威脅他，這讓他很不爽，他去了，坐在自己的房間裡充滿了悲傷的思緒。此腔期待後街上，在掛著皮膚乾燥，並有在他的窗口粗鐵條。那天晚上，他躺在床上，想著金豬的; 的確，它總是在他的想法。突然，他好像聽到外面的腳去坑，劈劈啪啪。他如雨後春筍般湧現下床，走到窗前。難道是金豬？但沒有什麼可看; 不管他聽說已經過去了。第二天早上，他們的鄰居，藝術家，經過，背著一個油漆盒和一大卷帆布。

“幫助君子以進行他的箱子顏色，說：”女人對男孩; 他立即服從，接過盒子，跟著畫家。他們走著，直到他們到達了圖片庫，並安裝在同一個向上的樓梯，他曾乘坐當晚的金豬。他記得所有的雕像和圖片，美麗的大理石維納斯，並再次他看著麥當娜的救主和聖約翰。這些圖片由Bronzino，在基督表示為矗立在較低的世界，與孩子們在他面前微笑，在進入天堂的甜美期望之前停止; 而可憐的孩子笑了，在這裡是他的天堂。

“你可以回家了，說：”畫家，而男孩站著看著他，直到他成立了他的畫架。

“我可以看看你畫的？”問男孩; “可我看你把圖片上這個白色帆布？”

“我不會畫畫呢，”回答的藝術家; 然後他帶出了一支粉筆。他的手迅速移動，他的眼睛測量的大畫面; 雖然沒有出現，但淡淡的線，救主的數字更清楚地在彩色圖像中可見。

“你為什麼不走？”之稱的畫家。然後，男孩徘徊默默回家，和自己坐在桌子上，並學會了縫手套。但整天他的想法是在圖片庫; 所以他被刺傷了，是尷尬。但他並沒有挑逗的Bellissima。到了晚上，房子的門開著，他溜了出去。這是一個明亮，美麗，晚上的星光，而是寒冷。離開他經歷了本已冷清的街道，很快來到了金豬; 他彎下身子，吻了吻它閃亮的鼻子，然後坐了下來在它的後面。

“你高興的生物，”他說; “我是如何渴望為您服務！我們一定要乘坐今天晚上。“

但金豬躺著一動不動，而新鮮的流湧出了從它的嘴。小男孩仍然坐在橫跨在它的後面，當他感覺到有什麼東西在拉他的衣服。他低下頭，並有的Bellissima，有點光滑剃光的Bellissima，吠叫，彷彿她會說，“我在這裡過; 你為什麼坐在那裡？“

一個火龍不可能嚇壞了的小男孩這麼多，因為做了小狗狗在這個地方。“的Bellissima在大街上，不穿衣服！”為老太太把它稱為; “這將是該結束了嗎？”

狗從來沒有在冬天，除非她身著一點點小羊皮大衣已經作出的她; 它被固定輪的小狗的脖子和身體用紅絲帶，並飾以花環和小鈴鐺。狗看起來幾乎像一個小孩子的時候，她被允許出去在冬天，和她的女主人後一路小跑。現在這裡，她是在寒冷的，而不是穿衣服。呵呵，怎麼會什麼時候結束？他所有的幻想都迅速投入到飛行; 但他吻了金豬一次，然後拿著的Bellissima在他的懷裡。可憐的小傢伙都在發抖，冷，那個男孩跑回家的一樣快，他可以。

“你有沒有逃跑？”問了兩個人，他遇到了警察，並在其中的狗叫。？“你去哪兒偷來的那個漂亮的狗”他們問; 他們拿走了他。

“哦，我還沒有偷來的; 你把它給我回來，“男孩叫道，絕望。

“如果你沒有被偷了，你可能會說在家裡，他們可以傳送到手錶內部的狗。”然後他們告訴他，那裡的手錶房子，就走了用的Bellissima。

這裡是一個可怕的麻煩。男孩不知道他是否有更好的跳進阿諾，或回家坦白一切。他們肯定會殺了他，他想。

“好吧，我會很高興地被殺死，”他的理由; “因為那時我就死了，去天堂：”等他回家，幾乎希望​​死亡。

門被反鎖，他無法達到環。沒有人在街上; 於是他舉起一塊石頭，並用它製成的在門口的巨大噪音。

“誰在那裡？”問某人來自內部。

“是我，”他說。“的Bellissima走了。打開門，然後殺了我。“

那麼的確有一個很大的恐慌。杜莎夫人是如此非常喜歡的Bellissima的。她立刻看了看牆上的地方，狗的衣服通常掛; 並有小羊皮。

“的Bellissima在手錶內部！”她哭著說。“你壞小子！你是怎麼引誘她出來？可憐的小微妙的東西，那些粗糙的警察！她會被凍結冷。“

朱塞佩去了一次，而他的妻子感嘆，男孩哭了。幾個鄰居進來了，在他們之中的畫家。他把男孩雙膝之間，並質疑他; 並且，在破碎的句子，他很快就聽到整個故事，同時也對金豬，和美妙的乘坐圖片畫廊，這當然是頗為艱澀。畫家，然而，安慰小傢伙，並試圖軟化小姐的憤怒; 但她不會被平息，直到她的丈夫一起返回的Bellissima，誰曾與警方。再有就是大喜，和畫家愛撫男孩，並給了他一些圖片。哦，多麼美麗的畫面這些都是 - 數字！與有趣的負責人; ，首先，在金豬也在那裡。哦，沒什麼比這更令人愉快。通過幾筆的手段，它是為了出現在紙張上; 甚至那站在它背後的房子已經勾勒英寸哦，如果他只能畫畫！他誰可以做到這一點可以在他面前變出所有的世界。在第二天的第一款休閒一刻，男孩得到了鉛筆，並在其他圖紙之一的後面，他試圖複製的金豬的繪圖，他成功了。當然，這是相當歪，而向上和向下，一條腿厚，薄的另一個; 還是有人喜歡的副本，和他喜出望外的他做了什麼。鉛筆不會去比較，因為它應該， - 他已經發現了這一點; 但第二天，他又試了一次。第二個豬是由第一側拉，這看起來好一百倍; 第三個嘗試是那麼好，大家可能知道這是什麼意思來表示。

現在的手套用繼續但速度緩慢。通過在鎮的商店發出的指令並沒有很快結束; 在金豬曾教導說，所有的對象可於紙上繪製的男孩; 和佛羅倫薩是一個圖畫書本身對於任何一個誰選擇交出其網頁了。在廣場戴爾大分三神矗立著一座修長柱子，它是正義的女神，蒙住眼睛，與她在她的手秤。她很快就表示在紙面上，它是glovemaker的男孩誰放在她那裡。他的照片的收集增加; 但至今他們沒有生命的物體只有副本，當有一天的Bellissima來到他面前gambolling：“我將你畫得很漂亮，把其中我的收藏”“站著別動，”他喊道，

但的Bellissima不會坐以待斃，所以她必須快速的在一個位置的約束。他綁她的頭和尾巴; 但她咆哮跳了，所以又拉又緊的弦，她幾乎被勒死; 就在這時，她的女主人走了進來。

“你這個惡毒的小男孩！可憐的小傢伙！“是她能說出。

她把男孩從她的，把他推開她的腳下，稱他為最忘恩負義，好換什麼，邪惡的男孩，並禁止他再進家門。然後，她哭了，吻了她的小半勒死的Bellissima。此時畫家走進房間。在1834年有一個在藝術學院在佛羅倫薩的展覽。兩張圖片，並排擺放，吸引了大批的觀眾。兩者的較小代表一個小男孩坐在一張桌子，繪畫; 在他面前是一個白色的小獅子狗，好奇地剃光; 但是作為動物不會坐以待斃，它已被系上一個字符串的頭部和尾部，使其保持在一個位置。在這張照片的真實性和生活感興趣的每一個。畫家被說成是一個年輕的佛羅倫薩，誰曾在街頭被發現，當一個孩子，一個老glovemaker，誰給他帶來了起來。男孩已經自學畫：也有人說，一個年輕的藝術家，現在出名了，發現了人才，在孩子就在他即將被送走已經捆綁夫人最喜歡的小狗，並用它作為一種模式。該glovemaker的男孩也成為一個偉大的畫家，如圖片證明; 但其副作用較大的圖片是他的天賦更大的證明。它代表了一個帥氣的男孩，衣衫襤褸衣，躺在睡著了，在臨街靠在金豬的Porta羅莎。所有的觀眾知道點好。孩子的手臂呈圓形豬的脖子上，他是在深睡眠。麥當娜的照片前燈扔在孩子的臉色蒼白，精緻的臉龐一個強大的，有效的光。這是一幅美麗的圖畫。一個大型的鍍金框包圍它，並在框架的一個角落裡的桂冠已經掛; 但一個黑色帶，纏繞在綠葉當中看不見，和黑紗的流光，掛下來; 對於在過去幾天的年輕藝術家已經-死了。

1. 相反伽利略的墳墓是米開朗琪羅的墓。他的半身像矗立在其上，有三個數字，代表的雕塑，繪畫和建築。酒店附近有一座紀念碑，以但丁，他的屍體被埋葬在拉文納。在這座紀念碑意大利表示指向但丁的巨大雕像，而詩歌哭泣在他的損失。幾步遠就是阿爾菲的monumnet，這是裝飾用月桂樹，七弦琴，和戲劇性的面具：意大利在哭泣的墳墓。馬基雅維利是最後在這些慶祝的人的名單。