l, and castle, and Porter! We went at such a pace that
the wind nearly blew my hat off. Right and left, villages, towns, and
vineyards flew past in a twinkling; behind me the two painters were
seated in the carriage, before me were four horses and a gorgeous
postilion, while I, seated high up on the box, bounced into the air
from time to time.

It had happened thus: Arrived at B., while we were as yet in the
outskirts a tall, thin, crusty gentleman in a green plush coat came to
meet us, and, with many obeisances to the two painters, conducted
us into the village, where, beneath the tall linden beside the
post-station, stood a fine carriage with four post-horses. Herr
Lionardo meanwhile insisted that I had outgrown my clothes, and in a
trice he produced another suit from his portmanteau, and I had to put
on a beautiful new dress-coat and vest; very fine to see, but they
were too long and too wide for me, and absolutely fluttered about me.
And I also had a brand-new hat, which shone in the sunlight as if it
had been smeared with fresh butter. Then the crusty stranger gentleman
took the bridles of the two horses which the painters had been riding,
the painters themselves got into the carriage, I mounted upon the
box, and we started, just as the postmaster poked his head out of the
window, in his nightcap. The postilion blew his horn merrily, and we
were off for Italy.

I led a magnificent existence up there, like a bird in the air, except
that I did not need to fly. I had absolutely nothing to do but to sit
on the box day and night, and bring out food and drink to the carriage
from the inns, for the painters never alighted, and in the daytime
they shut the carriage windows close, as if the sun would have killed
them; only now and then Herr Guido put his pretty head out of the
carriage window and chatted kindly with me, laughing the while at Herr
Lionardo, who always seemed to dislike these talks. Once or twice I
nearly fell into disgrace with my master--the first time because on a
clear starry night I began to play the fiddle up there on my box, and
then because of my sleeping. It _was_ strange! I longed to see all
that I could of Italy, and opened my eyes wide every fifteen minutes.
And yet, after I had gazed steadily about me for a while, the sixteen
trotting feet before me would grow indistinct and dreamy, my eyes
would gradually close, and at last I would fall into a slumber so
profound and invincible that it was imp