George, he was always seen there so long as the sun was in the heavens.
Many times the hearts of the two women stood still when they saw him
climb to the highest point of the scaffolding in order to direct the work
from there. Fate had only to make his foot slip one little inch or
decree that a wasp should sting him on the finger to put an end to his
existence. The poor mother was doubly anxious because he seemed so
unconscious of the risk he ran up there and looked about him even more
boldly and self-reliantly than usual.

The dome was already perfectly round. Why wasn't it finished, and why
must he go on climbing again and again that frightful scaffolding?

"Nonna, Nonna, you must look, I can stand it no longer," she cried one
day after she had been regarding the glass for a long time. "Hold me--he
is going to jump. Nonna, is he safe? I can no longer see." And the
glass shook in her hand.

"Oh!" the old woman answered, heaving a sigh of relief, "there he stands
as solidly and firmly as the statue of Wendelin I. in the market-place.
See. . . ."

"Yes, yes, there he is," the duchess cried and fell on her knees to
thank Heaven.

The nurse continued to look in the glass. Suddenly she shrieked aloud
and her mistress sank together and covered her face with her hands.
"Has he fallen? Is he dead?" she groaned.

But Nonna, despite her gout, sprang up and ran to her mistress with the
mirror in her hand and stammering, half laughing and half crying, like