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.”