theboyraisedhishandstowardsthesmilingchildren,andthenthepigranoffwithhimthroughtheopenvestibule.

"thankyou,thankyou,youbeautifulanimal,"saidthelittleboy,caressingthemetalpigasitrandownthesteps.

"thankstoyourselfalso,"repliedthemetalpig;"ihavehelpedyouandyouhavehelpedme,foritisonlywhenihaveaninnocentchildonmybackthatireceivethepowertorun.yes;asyousee,icanevenventureundertheraysofthelamp,infrontofthepictureofthemadonna,butimaynotenterthechurch;stillfromwithout,andwhileyouareuponmyback,imaylookinthroughtheopendoor.donotgetdownyet,forifyoudo,thenishallbelifeless,asyouhaveseenmeintheportarosa."

"iwillstaywithyou,mydearcreature,"saidthelittleboy.sothentheywentonatarapidpacethroughthestreetsofflorence,tilltheycametothesquarebeforethechurchofsantacroce.thefolding-doorsflewopen,andlightstreamedfromthealtarthroughthechurchintothedesertedsquare.awonderfulblazeoflightstreamedfromoneofthemonumentsintheleft-sideaisle,andathousandmovingstarsseemedtoformagloryroundit;eventhecoat-of-armsonthetomb-stoneshone,andaredladderonabluefieldgleamedlikefire.itwasthegraveofgalileo.themonumentisunadorned,buttheredladderisanemblemofart,signifyingthatthewaytogloryleadsupashiningladder,onwhichtheprophetsofmindrisetoheaven,likeeliasofold.intherightaisleofthechurcheverystatueontherichlycarvedsarcophagiseemedendowedwithlife.herestoodmichaelangelo;theredante,withthelaurelwreathroundhisbrow;alfieriandmachiavelli;forheresidebysiderestthegreatmen-theprideofitaly.thechurchitselfisverybeautiful,evenmorebeautifulthanthemarblecathedralatflorence,thoughnotsolarge.itseemedasifthecarvedvestmentsstirred,andasifthemarblefigurestheycoveredraisedtheirheadshigher,togazeuponthebrightlycoloredglowingaltarwherethewhite-robedboysswungthegoldencensers,amidmusicandsong,whilethestrongfragranceofincensefilledthechurch,andstreamedforthintothesquare.theboystretchedforthhishandstowardsthelight,andatthesamemomentthemetalpigstartedagainsorapidlythathewasobligedtoclingtightlytohim.thewindwhistledinhisears,heheardthechurchdoorcreakonitshingesasitclosed,anditseemedtohimasifhehadlosthissenses-thenacoldshudderpassedoverhim,andheawoke.

itwasmorning;themetalpigstoodinitsoldplaceontheportarosa,andtheboyfoundhehadslippednearlyoffitsback.fearandtremblingcameuponhimashethoughtofhismother;shehadsenthimoutthedaybeforetogetsomemoney,hehadnotdoneso,andnowhewashungryandthirsty.oncemoreheclaspedtheneckofhismetalhorse,kisseditsnose,andnoddedfarewelltoit.thenhewanderedawayintooneofthenarroweststreets,wheretherewasscarcelyroomforaloadeddonkeytopass.agreatiron-bounddoorstoodajar;hepassedthrough,andclimbedupabrickstaircase,withdirtywallsandaropeforabalustrade,tillhecametoanopengalleryhungwithrags.fromhereaflightofstepsleddowntoacourt,wherefromawellwaterwasdrawnupbyironrollerstothedifferentstoriesofthehouse,andwherethewater-bucketshungsidebyside.sometimestherollerandthebucketdancedintheair,splashingthewateralloverthecourt.anotherbroken-downstaircaseledfromthegallery,andtworussiansailorsrunningdownitalmostupsetthepoorboy.theywerecomingfromtheirnightlycarousal.awomannotveryyoung,withanunpleasantfaceandaquantityofblackhair,followedthem."whathaveyoubroughthome?"