41446	----	Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. The frequent use of ellipses has been retained as printed. On page 19, "I had better tried" should possibly be "I had better try". THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO [Illustration: "BUT SMELL THIS" ... AND WHILE HE SPOKE THE RASCAL OF A PINOCCHIO TOOK IN BOTH HIS HANDS THE DISH AND HELD IT CLOSE TO STOLZ'S NOSE] THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO _New Adventures of the Celebrated Little Puppet_ _By_ COLLODI NIPOTE (_Paolo Lorenzini_) _Adapted from the Italian by_ VIRGINIA WATSON _With Drawings by J. R. Flanagan_ HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON _The Twilight Series_ Imaginative Stories and Fairy Tales Illustrated--Jackets Printed in Colors THE HOLLOW TREE AND DEEP WOODS BOOK. By A. B. Paine THE HOLLOW TREE SNOWED-IN BOOK. By A. B. Paine HOLLOW TREE NIGHTS AND DAYS. By A. B. Paine ALICE IN WONDERLAND. By Lewis Carroll THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS. By Lewis Carroll HOME FAIRY TALES. By Jean Mace DANISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. By J. Christian Bay FAVORITE FAIRY TALES. Illustrated by Peter Newell TWILIGHT LAND. By Howard Pyle THE DWARF'S TAILOR. By Zoe Dana Underhill FAIRY BOOK. By Edouard Laboulaye LAST FAIRY TALES. By Edouard Laboulaye PINOCCHIO. By Carlo Collodi THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO. By Collodi Nipote THE WATER BABIES. By Charles Kingsley THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO Copyright, 1919, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. _How Pinocchio Discovered that He Had a Heart and Had Become a Real Boy_ 1 II. _How Pinocchio Recognized the Advantages of His Wooden Body_ 22 III. _How Pinocchio Sent a Solemn Protest to Francis Joseph to Rectify an Official Bulletin_ 33 IV. _How Pinocchio Learned that War Changes Everything--Even the Meaning of Words_ 62 V. _In Which Pinocchio Discovers that Sometimes When You Want to Advance You Have to Take a Step Backward_ 78 VI. _Wherein We See Pinocchio's Heart_ 92 VII. _How Pinocchio Came Face to Face with Our Alpine Troops_ 110 VIII. _How Pinocchio Made Two Beasts Sing--Contrary to Nature_ 135 IX. _How Pinocchio Complained Because He Was No Longer a Wooden Puppet_ 151 X. _Many Deeds and Few Words_ 177 XI. _And Now--Finished or Not Finished_ 199 ILLUSTRATIONS "_But smell this_" ... _and while he spoke the rascal of a Pinocchio took in both hands the dish and held it close to Stolz's nose_ _Frontispiece_ "_I see the suet-eaters_" _Facing page_ 36 _He saw a rag tied to a pole waving_ " 42 "_You beastly little creature, what game are you playing?_" " 46 _One day he managed to capture a pig and to drag it along behind him_ " 62 _His foot caught Cutemup right in the stomach and knocked him breathless_ " 88 _Pinocchio did his best to get on his feet, but couldn't succeed_ " 116 _Ciampanella, the company cook_ " 134 INTRODUCTION Dear Boys and Girls,--Let us hope that none of you has been so unfortunate as to have missed the pleasure of watching sometime or other a puppet show. Probably Punch and Judy is the one you know best, but there are many others with jolly little fellows who dance in and out of all sorts of adventures. So you can imagine Pinocchio, the hero of this book, as one of those lively puppets. And, in case you have never read the earlier book about him, you will want to know something of what happened to him before you meet him in these pages. One day a poor carpenter, called Master Cherry, began to cut up a piece of wood to make a table-leg of it when, to his utmost amazement, the piece of wood cried out, "Do not strike me so hard!" The frightened carpenter stopped for a moment, and when he began again and struck the wood a blow with his ax the voice cried out once more, "Oh, oh! you have hurt me so!" The carpenter was now so terrified that he was only too glad to turn the piece of wood over to a neighbor, Papa Geppetto, who cut it up into the shape of a boy puppet, painted it, and named it Pinocchio--which means "a piece of pinewood." As soon as he had finished making him, Pinocchio grabbed the old man's wig off his head and started in to play tricks. Papa Geppetto then taught the puppet to walk, and when naughty Pinocchio discovered he could use his legs, he ran away. Then began all kinds of adventures, and Pinocchio was sometimes naughty and selfish, and sometimes kind and considerate, but always funny and jolly. In this new book Pinocchio's heart has grown through love and consideration for others, so that he becomes a real boy and takes part in the war to help his beautiful country, Italy. THE TRANSLATOR. THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO [Illustration] THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO CHAPTER I _How Pinocchio Discovered That He Had a Heart and Had Become a Real Boy_ He yawned, stuck out his tongue and licked the end of his nose, opened his eyes, shut them again, opened them once more and rubbed them vigorously with the back of his hand, jumped up, and then sat down on the sofa, listening intently for several minutes, after which he scratched his noddle solemnly. When Pinocchio scratched his head in this way you could be sure that there was trouble in the air. And so there was. The room was empty, the windows closed, and the door as well; no noise came from the still quiet street; a deep silence filled the air, yet there, right there, close to him, he heard queer sounds like blows--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock. [Illustration] It sounded like some one who was amusing himself by rapping with his knuckles on a wooden box--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock. "But who is it?" called out the puppet, suddenly, jumping down from the sofa and running to peer into every corner of the room. When he had knocked over the chest, rummaged the wardrobe with the mirror, upset the little table, turned over the chairs, pulled the pictures off the walls, and torn down the window-curtains, he found himself seated on the floor in the middle of the room, dead tired, his face all smeared with dust and spider-webs, his shirt in tatters, his tongue hanging out like a pointer's returning from the hunt. Yet there, close to him, he still heard that strange tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock ... and it seemed as if those mysterious fingers were rapping even more quickly upon the mysterious wooden box. Pinocchio would have pulled his hair out in desperation if Papa Geppetto hadn't forgotten to make him any. But as the desperation of puppets lasts just about as long as the joy of poor human beings, Pinocchio, laying his right forefinger on the point of his magnificent nose, calmly remarked: "Let me argue this out. There is no one else in here but me. I am keeping perfectly quiet, not even drawing a long breath, yet the noise keeps up.... Then, since it is not I who am making the noise, some one else must be making it, and as no one outside me is making it, whatever makes it must be inside me." This seemed reasonable, but Pinocchio, who had not expected he would come to such a conclusion, gave a start, kicked violently, and began to roll around on the ground, yelling as if he would split his throat: "Help! Help!" The thought had suddenly come to him that during the night a mouse had jumped into his mouth and down into his stomach and was searching about in it for some way to get out. But the quieter he kept the noisier grew the tick-tock; in fact, so loud that it seemed to cut off his breath. Fear made him calm. "Let me argue this out," he said again, laying his forefinger against his nose. "It cannot be a mouse; the movement is too regular, so regular that if I weren't sure that I went to bed without supper I should think I had swallowed Papa Geppetto's watch by mistake.... Hm! If he hadn't told me time and time again that I am only a little puppet without a heart I should almost believe that I had one down inside me, and that this tick-tock were indeed ..." "Just so!" "Who said 'Just so'? Who said 'Just so'?" called Pinocchio, looking around in terror. Naturally no one answered him. "Hm! Did I dream it?" he asked himself. "And even if there is any one who thinks he can frighten me with his 'just so' he will find himself much mistaken. A brave boy does not know what fear is, and I begin to think ... "'Just so' or not 'just so,' if any one has anything to say to me let him come forward and he will learn what kind of blows I can give." [Illustration] He turned round and stepped back a few steps. It seemed to him that some one was making a threatening gesture at him. Without hesitating a moment, he rushed forward with his head down, thrashing out blows like a madman. Then he heard a terrible smashing of glass. Pinocchio had hit out at his own image in the wardrobe mirror, which naturally was shattered to bits. There is no need for me to tell you how he felt, because you will have no trouble in picturing it for yourselves. "But how did I come to make such a blunder?" he asked himself, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "How did I happen not to recognize myself in the mirror? Am I really so changed...? Can I indeed be changed into a real little boy or am I a puppet as I always was?" "Just so! Just so! Just so!" This time there could be no doubt about it. Pinocchio sprang toward the window, opened it, and stuck his head out. There below, a few feet lower down, was a beautiful terrace covered with flowering plants. In the midst of the plants was a stand, and on the stand a magnificent green parrot who just at that moment was scratching under his beak with his claw, and looking around him with one eye open. Down in the street below there was not a soul to be seen. "Oh, you ugly beast! Was it you who was chattering 'just so, just so, just so'?" The parrot burst out into a crazy laugh and began to sing in his cracked voice: "Coccorito wants to know Who the glass gave such a blow. Coccorito knows it well And the master he will tell." "Hah! Hah! Hah!" And he burst out into another guffaw. Patience, which is the only heritage of donkeys, was certainly not Pinocchio's principal virtue. Moreover, the parrot laughed in such a rude manner that he would have annoyed Jove himself. [Illustration] "Stop it, idiot!" "Idiot, idiot, 'yot, 'yot." "Beast!" "Beast!" "Take care ..." "Take ca-a-a-re." "I'll give it to you." "You, you, you." "Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Who the glass gave such a blow? Coccorito knows it well And the master he will tell." "Will you? I'll make you shut up. Take this, you horrid beast!" There was a large terra-cotta pot with a fine plant of basil in it standing on the window-sill, and the furious Pinocchio seized it in both hands and hurled it down with all his force. Coccorito would have come to a sad ending if the god of parrots had not protected his topknot. The flower-pot grazed the stand and was shattered against the marble parapet, and the pieces, falling down, hit against the large stained-glass window opening on to the terrace and broke it. Pinocchio, who could hardly believe that he had done so much damage, stood still a moment and gazed stupidly at the pile of broken pieces and at the parrot, who laughed as if he would burst. But when Pinocchio saw a big officer rush angrily over the terrace, with his hair brushed up on his head, a huge mustache beneath his curved nose, and a thick switch in his hand, he was seized with such a fright that he threw over his shoulders the first thing in the way of clothing he could lay his hand on, rushed to the door, opened it with a kick, ran through a small room adjoining, sped down the stairs at breakneck speed, flung open the street door and--Heavens! He felt a violent blow on his stomach and, as if hurled from a catapult, he was thrown into the air and fell down the rest of the steps, his legs out before him. But he didn't stay still when he got to the bottom. He sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, rubbed himself on the injured part, and was off again. He seemed to see some one strolling there in the middle of the street; he thought he heard himself called twice or thrice by a well-known voice, but the fear which was driving him bade him run, and he ran with all the strength he had in his body. [Illustration] Poor Papa Geppetto! It was indeed he who was strolling in the middle of the street and who, seeing Pinocchio flying out of the house like a madman, wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain, had called to him imploringly. And so it was--in his hurry Pinocchio had thrown over his shoulders one of the curtains of his room, and if I must tell you all the truth, he was a perfectly comical sight. Soon Pinocchio had a string of people at his heels crying out: "Catch the madman! Give it to the madman!" Catch him! That was easy to say, but it was no easy matter to grab hold of the rascal. Indeed, his pursuers were soon weary, and Pinocchio might have thought himself safe if a dog hadn't suddenly joined in the game. It was a large jet-black poodle that had come from no one knew where. With a couple of bounds he had caught up with Pinocchio and had seized the curtain in his teeth and was dragging it through the dust. Suddenly he stiffened on his four legs and Pinocchio gave a little whirl and found himself face to face with the animal. "Ho, ho, ho! What do I see? Oh, Medoro, don't you recognize me? Give me your paw." Medoro growled and shook the curtain violently, which was still knotted about Pinocchio's waist. It was only then that he noticed the strange covering he had on and burst out laughing. "Oh, Medoro! What do you really want to do with this rag? I'll give it to you willingly." He had scarcely undone the knots when Medoro made a spring and was off down the street they had come, the curtain in his teeth. The puppet stood there, quite upset. Medoro had given him a lesson. The dog that had been so friendly had turned on him and, after having pulled the miserable old curtain off him, had made off without paying any further attention to his old friend. [Illustration] "A fine way of doing!" he grumbled. "I'll catch cold running around after that rag. Papa Geppetto won't even thank him.... I had better tried to mend the mirror of the wardrobe or the general's window." The thought of all the troubles he had caused the poor man in so short a time made Pinocchio rather melancholy, and two big tears shone in his bright little eyes. But suddenly he sighed a deep sigh, shrugged his shoulders several times, and with his head high and his hands on his hips, set off again on his way, whistling a popular song. He had not gone a hundred steps when he stopped suddenly, cocked his ear, listened a moment quietly, and then flung himself into the fields which bordered the street. The wind brought from far off the gay notes of a military band. There was a huge crowd, but Pinocchio didn't give that a thought, in spite of the fact that he was very tired with his long run. By pushing and poking and kicks in the shins he got up into the front row. Soldiers were passing. At the head was a company of bicycle sharpshooters (bersaglieri), then the band, then the regiment, the Red Cross ambulance, and soldiers, and a long line of sappers. Everybody clapped, threw kisses and flowers, and overwhelmed the bersaglieri with little gifts. The soldiers broke ranks and mingled with the crowd and answered the applause with loud cheers for Italy, the King, and the Army. Some of them marched along in the midst of their families; weeping mothers begged their sons to be careful; the fathers bade them be brave, reminding them of the fighting in '48, '66, '70--the glorious years of our emancipation. The little boys kept close to their fathers, proud to see them armed like the heroes of old legends, and many of the girls besought their sweethearts: "Write to me, won't you? Every day I want you to write to me. If I don't get letters from you I shall think that you are dead and I shall weep so bitterly." Dead! This word affected Pinocchio so that suddenly he felt his heart beating loudly--that strange tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock which had startled him earlier that morning. Dead? "Oh! where are they going?" he asked a sprightly old man who was standing near by, shouting, "Hurrah for Italy!" as if he were a boy. "They are going to the war." "Are they really off to war? Will they fire only powder from their guns, or real, lead bullets, too?" "Indeed yes, real bullets, too." "And will they all die?" "We hope not all of them--but they are going to fight for the honor and greatness of their country, and he who dies for his country may die happy." Pinocchio did not breathe. He scratched his head solemnly, and with his eyes and mouth made such a face that if the little old man had seen it he would probably have boxed his ears for him. This "die happy" was silly. Death had always frightened him whenever he had come near to it. "Have you been to war?" Pinocchio asked the little old man, half ironically. "Can't you see?" and he pointed to a row of medals pinned on his coat. "And you would go back?" "Certainly, if they would take me as a volunteer." This reply brought a strange longing to Pinocchio, all the more that the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock in the box inside of his body was making so much noise that it rang in his ears. And then the gay notes of the band, the joyous air of the soldiers, the cheers of the crowd, suddenly brought a strange idea into his head. The war, with its cannon, marches on one side, fighting on the other, horses dashing, flags waving in the wind, songs of victory, medals on the breast, prisoners tied together like sausages, war trophies, danced before his eyes in a fantastic dance. The war must be just the place for him, all the more so when he thought that it couldn't be easy to get to it if the little old man who had been there so often couldn't go now. "I, too, will go to the war with the soldiers," he said, in a low voice, and without wasting a moment he pushed his way between the troops, who, now that they were approaching the station, began to close up the ranks. He found himself by the side of a young blond soldier, who seemed more lonely and sad than the others. "Will you take me with you?" Pinocchio asked, pulling at his coat. "Where?" "To the war." "You? Are you crazy?" "No, indeed." "And you ask me to take you with me?" "Whom, then, must I ask?" "There is the guard down there, that one with a blue scarf over his shoulder." When Pinocchio got an idea in his head he had to work it out at any cost. So he repeated his demand to the lieutenant of the guard, who, smiling under his mustache, pointed out the captain inspecting the troops. But the captain could decide nothing without the consent of the battalion commander, who, for his part, would have had to ask the approval of the colonel. He advised Pinocchio to hasten matters by going to the adjutant, who could present his request directly to the general. They were now in the station. The soldiers took their places in the huge cars, around which crowded their families, friends, and the cheering, curious throng. At the end of the train some first-class carriages were attached into which the orderlies carried the hand-baggage of their higher officers. In front of one compartment reserved for one of these was piled up a regular mountain of small objects--little packages, boxes, rugs, furs, which a cavalry soldier was trying to carry inside. The adjutant, a few feet away, was looking on, trembling with impatience and vexation. "Quick! Quick! You lazybones! Quick! Quick! Mollica. General Win-the-War will be here in a minute and his things are not yet inside. I'll put you under arrest for a fortnight." "I respectfully beg the adjutant to observe that I have only two hands for the service of my general and of my country." "And I beg you to observe that the train is about to start off." "If the adjutant would order some one to give me a hand ..." "There isn't any one to be had, confound it!" Just at that moment Pinocchio advanced resolutely toward the adjutant to put forward his request to be enlisted. "Mr. Adjutant ... I have come ... to ..." The adjutant didn't let Pinocchio say another word, but caught hold of him under the chin, squeezed him, shook him gently ... and said: "Good! I understand ... you want to do something for the army.... Good boy! You are the best kind of a volunteer. Fine! Help Private Mollica to carry in all this stuff and your country will be grateful to you. And you, Mollica, hurry up. I beg you to observe that now you have the four hands you requested for the job. We understand each other, heh?" Then he was off toward a group of soldiers who were chalking on the door of one of the railway carriages in large letters: "_Through Train--Venice--Trieste--Vienna_." A big crowd had gathered around, stopping the traffic. "Ho, boys, who told you to write _through train_? Next time ask permission from your superior officer.... There will be a little stop before we get there." "Doesn't matter, sir, as long as we _get_ there." "Well! You can tell when a train leaves, but not whether it will ever arrive." "Hurrah for Italy!" "Good boys! I like that. But rub out what you have written. You are first-class soldiers, you are. We understand each other, heh?" And off he went. With Pinocchio's aid Private Mollica performed miracles. In a few minutes the general's things were inside, beautifully arranged in the baggage-racks. "You are a prodigy, boy, I tell you. You have done me a great service and my adjutant will be so pleased that if you will promise to keep guard here a moment I will go to tell him so that he can thank you in the general's name." "Go along; I'll stay," Pinocchio replied, and took up a position in front of the door that was so soldierly you might have taken him for a distant relative of Napoleon the Great before St. Helena. But a minute had not gone by and Mollica had not got a hundred steps away when Pinocchio turned as pale as death and trembled so with fright that he almost fell off the step. He had caught sight a short way off of General Win-the-War surrounded by a crowd of officers; and with his marvelous vision had recognized in him Papa Geppetto's furious tenant, whose stained glass he had shattered a few hours before, all on account of saucy Coccorito. He was lost; there was no possible way of escape! Win-the-War was coming direct to his compartment and the adjutant was guiding him. The crowd in the way divided before him and the soldiers stood stiffly at attention. Even Mollica stood there straight as a ramrod.... Pinocchio gave a leap into the compartment, hoping to escape by the opposite door. But it was not possible to open it.... He heard the sound of the approaching steps, the ring of the spurs.... Pinocchio flung himself down on the floor of the compartment and hid himself, face downward, under one of the seats. The general, a colonel, and the adjutant got in. A band struck up the national air; thousands of voices cheered the King, Italy, and the Army. The soldiers responded with youthful courage.... You heard a continual medley of good-bys and good wishes, and the quick, sharp repetition of commands. A hundred voices were singing, "Farewell, my dear one, farewell"; a hundred others sang Garibaldi's Hymn.... There was a profound silence in the compartment. Perhaps the superior officers felt the great responsibility of the moment and were moved by it. Pinocchio didn't dare breathe for fear of betraying himself, but in his breast the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock beat so loudly that he thought it must resound all along the wooden walls of the carriage. The notes of the national air seemed to be quicker ... the cries of the crowd louder ... the locomotive whistled shrilly a desperate good-by ... the train began to move.... "Gentlemen," said the general to his two companions, "let Italy's fate now be fulfilled. To-morrow we shall cross the frontier, for the glory of our King and for the greatness of our country. Long live Italy!" There was so much emotion in the old soldier's voice that Pinocchio felt as if a rope were strangling his throat. When the train was under way, rumbling noisily along the rails, he burst out crying and discovered that he had a heart just as if he were a real boy! CHAPTER II _How Pinocchio Recognized the Advantages of His Wooden Body_ "So, Colonel, you understand? This afternoon we shall be at ---- (censor); we shall bivouac the troops; to-morrow morning at two we must be on the march. We shall cross the frontier at ---- (censor) and we shall descend toward ----. I expect rapid and united advance until we encounter serious opposition. Remind the soldiers of the respect due to property in the conquered lands and to the beaten foes taken prisoners.... I have been told by the commander-in-chief that it has been discovered that there is a host of spies who are working to injure us. I command you to be very severe with spies caught in the act, no matter what their age, race, or social standing. Tell your officers to keep absolutely secret all orders which they receive. If there is the slightest suspicion that an order relating to our advance has reached the ear of a person suspected even in the slightest degree, take him out, stand him with his face to the wall, and give him eight bullets in his back. You understand--without fear of consequences or that you may be mistaken. It would be better than to allow--let us suppose such a case--a whole regiment to be destroyed." [Illustration] Pinocchio, who had been beginning to enjoy the adventure, the swaying of the train, which, as he lay on his face, tickled his stomach, and the conversation of the general, which greatly interested him, was so terrified at these words that his body felt like goose-flesh. For a moment he thought he would faint. His ears rang loudly and he burst into a sweat. Heigh-ho! The general was not a man to say such things as a joke: "If there is the slightest suspicion that an order relating to our advance has reached the ear of a person suspected even in the slightest degree, take him out, stand him with his face to the wall, and give him eight bullets in his back." It was clear. As clear as it could be! Instead of a _single_ order, Pinocchio had overheard a number ... they would certainly take him for a spy, and most certainly the eight bullets would not be lacking. "Eight!" he exclaimed to himself as soon as he had managed to grow a little calmer. "Eight! One would be enough for me, and even that would be too much! But I don't want to die with bullets in my back.... I am not a spy at all. Well ... how can I persuade that orang-outang that I am in this compartment and under this seat for no other purpose than to go to war against my country's enemies, and because the authorities certainly wouldn't let me go in a more decent way? And suppose he recognizes me as the one who smashed his stained-glass window that opened out on his terrace, instead of eight bullets, he will order me a couple of dozen.... What a pity! Poor me! Poor Papa Geppetto, what will he say about me? But, to sum it up, I am not a spy, and when any one wants to pretend to be what he is not he must find out the way to show them that he is not what they believe him to be.... The best way, I think, would be to slip off quietly. No one saw me come in here ... all I have to do is to get out without any one's seeing me. It can't be very difficult to do that; I'll just stay quietly until the train gets to its destination, then let these gentlemen step out, and a minute later I'll fade away." If you could have poked your head under the seat and seen Pinocchio's face at this moment you would have been made happy by his joyful smile. This little bit of reasoning had so quieted his mind that if they had pressed eight muskets against his back to shoot the famous eight bullets into him he would have begun to laugh as if they were doing it only to tickle him. He stretched himself out slowly, and, lulled by the swaying of the train, was soon overcome by such a tranquil slumber that he couldn't have slept better in his own little bed. "Poor Pinocchio!" I think I hear you say. "What is going to happen to him now?" Yes, that's the way. It is the usual rule in this world that when a person thinks he can enjoy a moment of blessed repose some misfortune is lying in wait for him. If Pinocchio, instead of letting himself be overcome with sleep, had kept his eyes and ears open while the train was slowing down and the locomotive ahead was puffing noisily he would have heard General Win-the-War let out a yell of pain. Of course, he should have kept it back, but in time of war we pardon certain things, particularly when a general about to make an attack suffers from the torture of rheumatic sciatica, an old trouble of his. "What's the matter, General?" "My leg. My pain has come back; it's worse than an Austrian bullet." "Perhaps you have taken a little cold." "Perhaps.... It doesn't seem warm here, for a fact, does it, Colonel?" "No, indeed." "We are in the mountains and still climbing, and the temperature is going down." "Gracious me! so it is. They ought ... Major, do me the favor at the next stop to ask if it is possible to heat the compartment. If the rest of you don't like the heat you can just go into the next compartment." "The idea!" At the next stop, which was not long in coming, the colonel asked permission of his superior officer to go off for an inspection of his men, and the major went off to see about heat for his commanding officer. It was not a hard matter to obtain what he wanted. The general was traveling in an up-to-date carriage, one of those that have under the seats special steam coils which can be connected with the exhaust pipes of the locomotive's boiler, and, by a simple adjustment, begin to send out heat immediately. The signal for departure had already been given when the major returned joyfully to the compartment. "Well?" "The connection is made and we have heat on." "Or rather we shall have it, because just now ..." "Excuse me, General, all we have to do is to push that handle where the sign says 'cold' and 'hot' and ..." The general, who was following the maneuver attentively, uttered an "Oh!" of relief as if the compartment were suddenly transformed into a hothouse, and stretched his legs out comfortably, resting his feet on the opposite seat. I can't tell you where Pinocchio's thoughts were at this moment. But I can assure you that he was dreaming and that they must have been pleasant dreams, because there was a beautiful smile on his face. But suddenly the expression changed to one strange and painful. Perhaps in his dreams, while he was seated at a table that was spread with the most delicious dainties, he felt himself slipping down, down, and suddenly found himself on a hot gridiron with St. Lawrence in person. It is certain that when he opened his eyes it was impossible to breathe the air beneath the seat, and where his back touched it, it was hot enough to bake a loaf of bread. He started to jump out, but caught sight, right in front of his nose, of the little wheels in the adjutant's spurs. The sight of these brought him back to his real situation. "But what is the matter?" he said to himself. "Is the axle of the wheel on fire? And can I keep from burning? But if they notice it, too? If no one moves that means that there is no danger ... but, Heavens! it burns! Ouch! I am covered with sweat, but I have got to stand it.... If I get out there will be the eight bullets in my back. Poor me! How much better it would be if I were still nothing but a wooden puppet!" [Illustration] Well, I can't help him. It's too much for me. It would indeed have been convenient at that moment to be made of wood, for he was in a situation such as no one would wish for any creature of flesh and blood--for me or you, for instance. He had either to stand being steamed on the boiling pipe of the heating apparatus or to give himself up into the hands of the general, who wouldn't delay long the threatened shooting. Pinocchio was a hero, also a regular martyr, because he stood the torture more than half an hour, turning himself from side to side, moving restlessly, and drawing up his body in one way and another like the aforesaid St. Lawrence of blessed memory, the only difference being that the saint expected to be well cooked on one side and then to turn over and be cooked on the other; while Pinocchio, when he discovered that a certain part of him was about to be cooked in earnest, let out a loud scream and followed it by calls for "Help! help!" General Win-the-War and the adjutant jumped to their feet like jacks-in-the-box, threw themselves down on the ground, and, without paying any attention to the blow on the heads they gave each other, ran their arms under the seat, and with outstretched hands seized hold of Pinocchio and dragged him out. They nearly tore him in two like a tender chicken, one pulling him on one side and one on the other. "You wretch!" "You scoundrel!" "Who are you?" "Speak, you miserable creature!" "General, he is a spy." "We must question him in German ... he must be an Austrian." "_Wer sind Sie?_" No answer. "What language do you speak, you little beast?" Poor Pinocchio couldn't even draw a long breath. The general clutched him by the collar with such a military firmness that he turned the color of a ripe cherry. A little more and he would have been strangled to death. The adjutant saved him by respectfully bidding the general remember that in questioning a prisoner it is necessary to allow him to breathe if you wish an answer. "Mr. General ... forgive me. I am not a spy. It would be a real crime if you had me shot ... just as soon as we arrive at ... Give me a gun and I will go to war with the troops." "Oh, you wretch! So you listened to all we said?" "How could I help it? I was under here when the train started. It was I who helped Private Mollica to put all your stuff inside." "Even this leather case?" "Certainly I, I myself." "Even the despatch-case with the plans! Major, give me your revolver so that I can shoot him like a dog." "But why do you want to shoot me, Mr. General? I haven't done anything.... I wanted to go to the war to hear the cannon, but I never spied on any one, not even when I went to school.... Can you really take me for a Boche? No, for gracious' sake, no.... Look at my features.... No, no, no, for Heaven's sake! Keep your weapon quiet.... Don't you know who I am?... I am Pinocchio, Papa Geppetto's Pinocchio ... who only this morning broke your stained-glass window...." At that point the general uttered such a roar that Pinocchio felt his breath leave him. But he saw the officer hand back the pistol to the major and take up from the seat a big leather bag; then he didn't see the bag again, but he felt it several times and with great force exactly on the part of his body which had suffered the most from the heat of the steam coil.... But Pinocchio was saved by his sincerity. General Win-the-War could certainly not have bothered to beat a real spy, but I can tell you that at that moment Pinocchio would have preferred to be still a wooden puppet. CHAPTER III _How Pinocchio Sent a Solemn Protest to Francis Joseph to Rectify an Official Bulletin_ May had come with her blossoms, but up there a sharp wind was blowing so that it seemed still February. Pinocchio, half naked as he was, shivered like a leaf, and every now and then let out a sneeze which sounded like a bursting shell. At every sneeze Mollica gave him a kick, Corporal Fanfara a box on the ear, and Drummer Stecca a pinch. The only one who didn't abuse him was Bersaglierino, the blond young soldier, more melancholy than his companions, whom he had first accosted in the station when they were setting out. I have told you that Pinocchio trembled with cold, and I will tell you that it was almost a good thing for him to do so; otherwise they would have seen him tremble with fear. If this had happened, his teasing companions would have driven him to despair. Pinocchio was to be pitied. He was at the front, the frontier several miles behind them, and any minute might bring Austrian bullets whistling through the air. The general had spared the youngster from being shot in the back, but he had given orders to put him in the very front line during the advance and to keep him well guarded. In one case the guns of the enemy would do justice to the suspected spy; in the other, Pinocchio would clear himself by his conduct and at the same time would lose his desire for a close view of the enemy. Private Mollica was furious with him. "Che-chew! che-chew! che-chew!" "Plague take you!" Another kick. "Keep still, you little beast! If you let the enemy spot us I'll stick this bayonet in your backbone." "I can't stand it any longer. I am frozen--che-chew!" "Stop it!" Another box on the ear. "You are all right. You wanted to be a volunteer; now you see how much fun it is." "I?" "Yes, you.... You were the cause of the fine talking-to my general gave me, and you made me lose my place as an orderly where I had a chance to make extra soldi. If you hadn't gone and told him that you had helped me to carry his things and if you hadn't slipped under the seat of that same officer to listen to what he said, I shouldn't have been punished by being sent to the front." "Are you afraid, then, Mollica?" "I afraid? But don't you know that if I catch sight of an Austrian I'll eat him?" "Like the food you took from the general," that rascal of a Pinocchio dared to remark. There was a chorus of laughs that stopped as if by magic at the sound of a certain roar in the distance and of something whistling through the air and very near. "There they are!" "We're in it." "Where?" "Where are they?" Who paid any attention now to Pinocchio? All of them had drawn close to one another and had rushed to the edge of the road, their guns pointed, to examine the distant landscape. The mountain was very steep there and covered with thick vegetation. Down at the bottom, toward the plain, there seemed to be an unexpected rise ... after the steep descent a green stretch through which a river ran like a silver ribbon. Still farther, was a chain of low mountains, almost like a cloud on the edge of the peaceful horizon. There was the roar of some more shots and the whistling of the shells, and a branch of a tree was splintered and fell. Pinocchio, alone in the middle of the road, felt a creeping up and down his spine and experienced a trembling in his legs that shook like a palsied man's. The second time he heard a shell whistle he felt that he must find a hole in which to hide himself. He looked about him and caught sight near by of an enormous larch-tree which pointed directly toward the heavens. I don't know how to explain it, but the sight of it took away from Pinocchio the desire to hide himself under the ground and made him wish to climb toward the stars. He gave a spring and shinned up the big trunk in a flash. I bet you a plugged soldo against a lira that you would have done the same.... [Illustration: "I SEE THE SUET-EATERS"] "I see them! I see them!" "Who?" "Whom do you see?" "Where are they? Where are you that we can't see you?" "I am up here." "Bravo! And whom do you see?" Bersaglierino asked. "I see the suet-eaters." "Where are they?" "Down there where there is a kind of slope there is a town hidden among the trees ... up here you can see a roof and the spire of a bell-tower ... you can see people on the roof ... you can see something glisten ... now they are firing." This time there were several reports, but they seemed to be aiming in another direction, because there was not the usual whistle in the air. "Whom are they 'strafing'?" Corporal Fanfara asked himself. "I'll 'strafe' that scoundrel Pinocchio. If you don't come down alive I will bring you down dead with a bullet in the seat of your trousers." "But listen! Look down there and see whom they're giving it to," cried the enraged Bersaglierino, pointing out a marching column which was hurrying below them. "Our infantry!" "Yes, indeed. They will beat us to it. It's a shame." "Our company ought to start off at a double-quick." "It must be a half-mile away." "But the bersaglieri must get there first ... even if there are only the four of us." "Sure thing." "Do you hear?" "Forward, Savoy!" And, heads lowered and bayonets fixed, they rushed down the slope. * * * * * "Ho! boys! Ho! Mol-li-ca! Cor-po-ral!... Oh! They are going off without me! What a mean thing to do! They leave me here at the top of this tree and run off.... But if they think they can play me such a trick they are mistaken.... I am hungry as a wolf, and if I don't get them to feed me, whom can I join? Run, run.... We'll see who gets there first!" He climbed down the tree, grumbling as he went, tightened the belt of his trousers, drank in several deep breaths of air, and then tore off like an express train behind time. I will tell you at once, not to keep you in suspense, that the bersaglieri got there the first, the infantry second, and Pinocchio ... a good third. I call it a "good third" merely as a way of expressing it, because when he arrived at the village our soldiers had already passed through it and had advanced some distance beyond, following the Austrians, who had taken to their heels and who were suffering a sharp fire at short range. The village was so small that it didn't even deserve the name of one. There were ten houses in all besides the church with the bell-tower, and a long shed over which waved the white flag with the red cross. There was a deathlike silence everywhere. On the little square before the church some bodies of Austrian soldiers were lying; among them was that of an officer so ugly that he seemed to have died of fright, but there was a red spot on his back. Pinocchio was terrified at the sight of him, but he had such a longing for his sword, his automatic pistol, his handsome belt, his light-blue cape, and his cap that he persuaded himself it was perfectly silly to be afraid of a dead Austrian, particularly when they weren't afraid of live ones. Without too much reflection, he buckled on the dead man's belt, armed himself with the pistol, wrapped himself in the blue cape, and pressed the cap down on his head. He was good to look at, I can assure you. [Illustration] The Hapsburg army had never had an officer who could be compared with this puppet who had now become a real boy. Pinocchio was prancing up and down in his new disguise, his sword clanking against the pavement, just like any little lieutenant, when he heard a horrible roar high up overhead, then, a moment later, an explosion which shook the ground! When he lifted up his head to see what had happened he thought he caught sight of some one walking about on the church's bell-tower. He saw a rag tied to a pole waving and, as if in reply to a signal, brumm! another shot that fell closer. Pinocchio, who was suspicious, went into the vestry and, pistol in hand, rushed up the steep little wooden stairs. He got to the top without even making the old worm-eaten stairs squeak. In the space where the bells hung a man in civilian's clothes had his back turned toward him. He was looking off from the balcony, and kept on waving the red cloth. You could see the vast expanse of the plain, and among the green a strange, intermittent flash ... then a puff ... then you heard a roar, followed by a crash, like a moving train rapidly approaching, then a tremendous explosion. The shells never fell as far as the town, but burst all around it, sending up columns of earth and smoke. And off there Pinocchio could see the bersaglieri, the soldiers of his country. The traitor with his signals was directing fire on the Italian troops. Tell me truly, what would you have done if you had been in Pinocchio's place? Would you have fired at the traitor? Yes or no. Well, Pinocchio did the same--cocked his pistol, shut his eyes, pulled the trigger, and pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum, seven shots went off. He had expected only one, and was so frightened that he pitched his weapon away and took to his heels, down the steps, without thought of the wretch, who, for his part, did no more signaling, I assure you! When he had got down to the square Pinocchio rushed across it, and was about to run in the direction where he had seen his bersaglieri fighting, when, passing by the shed where the Red Cross flag waved, he thought he heard the sound of several voices in a lively discussion. He stopped suddenly and very, very quietly approached a big window closed merely by a wire netting. Inside he saw on one side of the large room two rows of beds, in the middle a group of rough-looking soldiers, with waxed mustaches, completely armed, who were busy plotting together. Just at that moment they separated to go to bed. They took off their weapons, hid them under the sheets, and slipped themselves into bed, drawing the covers up to their noses. [Illustration: HE SAW A RAG TIED TO A POLE WAVING] "_Wunderschön!_" ("Fine.") "When Italian pigs come we make a colossal festival," grunted a Croat and laughed boisterously. "We sick get well, and Italians all croak." "I'll croak you," muttered Pinocchio, who in a twinkle had understood the deviltry the wretches were planning. He made himself as small as he could, so that the cape dragged on the ground like a petticoat, slunk along the walls of the shed, then rushed off at full speed toward the fields. He was just passing the last house of the village when he found himself unexpectedly surrounded by a score of Austrian soldiers in a half-tipsy condition, so that they took him for their superior officer. He thought himself lost. "Lieutenant, don't go farther. 'Talians still near and make croak all Croats." "Croat? I a Croat!" "'Talians make croak Slovaks, too." "Oh! Mamma!" "_Ja, ja!_" "_Ja, ja!_" Pinocchio had a flash of intuition; he hid his hand under his cape, unsheathed the sword, and, assuming so martial a manner that then and there he could have been taken for a handsome brother of William, he yelled and swore some doggerel which the dolts might think was Hungarian, Dalmatian, or Rumanian, spun 'round and continued on his way to the Italian position. The Austrians followed him, bayonets fixed, convinced that the spirit of Tegetoff had come to life and was leading them to victory. But instead, when they had gone a hundred yards they were showered with bullets and had to fling themselves on the ground in order to escape immediate extermination. Pinocchio saw that he was being shot at more than the others, and didn't know why. All around him the torn-up earth was strewn with plumes. "I should like to know why they are after me especially, who am not even firing, while they are sparing these monkeys who have followed me and are shooting like mad. Oh! Perhaps it is on account of the uniform of that miserable officer. If that is the case, my dear ones, enough of your sport. 'Oho! I am an Italian. Stop firing, for Heaven's sake, so that I can tell you something important. Oho! Enough, I say!'" And standing up straight, he hurled the cape and the cap away from him, and with no thought of danger, made for the spot from which came the Italian fire. Then came the end of the scene. The Croats behind him jumped to their feet like so many jacks-in-the-box, threw their arms about and waved their hands in the air.... From a hedge not far off, a company of bersaglieri came running up and surrounded them, yelling, "Surrender!" "If one of them moves, stick him like a toad," commanded a lieutenant. "Don't worry, sir, I'll spit him for your roasting." "Secure their officer." "Heh, boys! don't joke ... lower your bayonets. I'm no Austrian officer. I am Pinocchio. Mollica, don't you recognize me?" "You beastly little creature, what game are you playing? But I'll run you through, all the same." "What's up now?" "Lieutenant, Mollica wants to make believe that I am an Austrian lieutenant, because I was the cause of his losing his place as orderly with General Win-the-War, but I am Pinocchio. Do you know me? I am glad. Order these twenty apes, which I have brought all the way here, to be bound, and then if you give me thirty men I will guarantee to catch some others that I have put to bed in the big barracks under the protection of the Red Cross, who pretended they were ill, but who had hidden their guns under the covers to 'croak Italian hogs.'" "Where are they?" "I'll tell you now ... then I'll show you up on the tower what a pretty thing I found--a traitor who was making signals to some one far off, and then, boom! there came one of those shells that burst. I meant to let him have one little bullet, but the pistol fired so many at him that I threw everything away...." "But come on! Come on! Show me the way!" "Right away, but on one condition--that when I have guided you, you will give me something to eat, because I am so hungry that I could eat that miserable Mollica." [Illustration: "YOU BEASTLY LITTLE CREATURE, WHAT GAME ARE YOU PLAYING?"] "Come on, boy, to the village. Double quick!" * * * * * Who would have imagined that his regiment had been fighting continuously for ten hours, leaving some dead on the field and sending not a few wounded to the ambulance? There on the square of the village won by Italy, beneath the shadow of the red, white, and green flag that waved from the summit of the little tower, the brave boys gave vent to unrestrained joy. It was time for rations. In the camp kitchens big pots were steaming, but the soldiers did not crowd around them as usual to fill their canteens. The bersaglieri's attention was held by a sight which put them in good humor, and good humor in war is a rare thing. Pinocchio was eating! He had swallowed three platefuls of soup in five minutes, and as he continued to grunt that he was hungry, they had given him a canteen full to the top and slipped into it a piece of meat that would have been sufficient to satisfy the hunger of four city employees. "Look out for bones!" "Are you going to eat them all?" "If he stays with us he'll break the Government." "Look out, boys, he'll end by bursting." "Don't you split open with all the Austrians you have eaten, for pork is more indigestible than asses' meat." "Heh! don't find fault with the food." "And what kind of meat do you call this?" "The best beef." "Lie! I am familiar with animals ... you give beef to the officers; donkey-meat to the soldiers." "Look out, you Pinocchio, you'll get into trouble with that tongue of yours." "Then let me eat in peace. You are all staring at me as if I were a Zulu chewing a hen with her feathers on. My tongue can't be dainty both talking and eating." "Let's murder him." And then there was a loud burst of laughter from all. Pinocchio was shoveling food into his mouth with both his hands, so that his face was red as a cock's comb and he could scarcely breathe. They were already as fond of him as if he were their son. His achievements had won for him a certain respect even from the officers whom he amused with his monkeyshines. It had been decided to adopt Pinocchio as the "son of the regiment" and to keep him at the front as a mascot. He was to live with the troops and to wear the uniform of a Boy Scout. The soldiers with common accord had put off his costume to an opportune moment. Do you want to know the reason? The brave boys were afraid to stick Pinocchio into puttees with so many spiral bands because his little thin legs would have frightened people. For the time being they had him put on a pair of short trousers which dragged behind him on the ground, a little cape like a bersagliere's, and a fez with a light-blue tassel so long that it touched his heels. This tassel was Pinocchio's delight, who, in order to look at it, always walked along with his head over his shoulder, and so would keep bumping into first one thing and then another. One day the mischievous Mollica made him run into one of the quarter-master-corps mules, and Pinocchio saluted and asked its pardon. But when he ran into officers, sergeants, corporals, and soldiers, instead of saluting he swore at them all. It is three days later. General Win-the-War's troops have not advanced. Our bersaglieri are still in camp near ----. It is a sultry, thundering afternoon. Many of the soldiers are sleeping. The Bersaglierino is playing cards with Mollica. Corporal Fanfara is shaving. Stecca is practising on his cornet, trying a variation on a well-known tune. Pinocchio, in the back of the tent, is snoring so loudly that Mollica every now and then hurls a handful of earth at his nose to make him lower his note. Suddenly the boredom is broken, every one jumps up and runs out to a certain point and crowds around an automobile that has just arrived. Pinocchio wakes up with a start, finds his mouth full of grit, his nose dirty, and hears all the noise about him--has a terrible fright, lets out a yell, and rushes out of the tent. But he is scarcely outside before he feels himself caught up by his legs and whirled around on the ground. He gets up again and is face to face with Bersaglierino, who has not left his post and who laughs loudly at Pinocchio's plight. "What has happened?" "The mail has come." "And you're making all this racket for that? I thought it was the Austrians." "You little coward, you!" "That's enough, Bersaglierino, if you say that to me again I'll give you such a kick that will change your shape. But why don't you, too, go to see if you have any letters?" [Illustration] "Who do you think would write me? I am as alone in the world as a dog, just like you, it seems." "Yes, that's so," replied Pinocchio, swallowing hard, because he had suddenly felt his throat tighten at the thought of Papa Geppetto, from whom he had had no news for many a long day. "It is a red-letter day for the others. Mollica will have a letter from his father, Fanfara news from his two babies, Stecca kisses from his wife.... I might be killed to-morrow by a bullet in the stomach and they would let me rot in a ditch and that would be the end." Mollica came back, his arms full of newspapers. His father, a news-dealer in Naples, sent him a copy of every unsold publication, knowing that anything may come in useful in war-times, even old news. "Heh! Bersaglierino! You want us to play the postman and yet you don't take any trouble to get your scented letter." "You are joking?" "No, it's no joke. Here is one really for you, and I congratulate you because if you are engaged she must be at least a countess." The Bersaglierino took the letter his comrade held out to him and read the address over several times. There was no doubt; it was his name that was written on the scented envelope the color of a blush rose. He turned pale and stood for a moment undecided, then he tore it open and read: DEAR BERSAGLIERINO,--I saw how sad and alone you were at the moment of your departure, so I felt it was my duty as a patriotic Italian girl to write to you. Go and fight for our country; do your duty bravely, and remember that in thought I follow and will follow you every minute. If you return valorously I will meet you and tell you how happy I am; if you fall wounded I will go to your hospital bed to soothe your suffering; if you die for your country my flowers shall lie on your grave and your name will always be written in my heart. Long live Italy! Your war-godmother, FATINA. "Long live Italy!" Bersaglierino shouted like mad. He caught up his hat with its cock plumes and tossed it in the air with all his force, seized Pinocchio who was standing by him, and lifted him up in both his arms, pulled his cap off his head, and then twirled it round on his pate, scratching the poor boy's nose. "What's got into you? Are you crazy?" "Am I crazy? I am happy! I am not alone any more, do you understand? I am no longer an unlucky fellow like you with no one belonging to him. But I am fonder of you than ever. Give me a kiss ..." and he pressed such a hearty kiss on his nose that his comrades laughed. But Pinocchio longed to cry. The heart in his body beat a violent tick-tock, tick-tock. "Have you read what Franz Joe's newspapers say?--'Italian soldiers are brigands who do not respect civilians or the wounded in the hospitals.' That means you, dear Pinocchio, because you shot the traitor on the tower. You can be sure that if the suet-eaters win they will make you pay for the crime." "Me?" "Yes, indeed, you! You don't intend to say that I killed him, do you? And you, thank God, are not an enlisted Italian soldier, therefore ..." "I understand." The camp was quiet once again; indeed, I might say that tender memories had softened its youthful exuberance. The voices from home were keeping the soldiers silent. It was as if every letter their eyes fell on was speaking to them quietly and they were blessed in listening, their faces shining with happiness. Corporal Fanfara held a sheet of paper on which there was nothing but some strange scrawls. He gazed at it with delight, and while two big tears ran down his cheeks he murmured in his Venetian dialect, "My darling little rascals!" These scrawls of theirs were more welcome to him than the letter from his wife which told of privations, anxiety, and troubles. Private Mollica was acting like a detective, searching through the newspaper pages for his father's dirty finger-marks; and as there was little trouble in finding them he kept repeating every moment, "This was made by my dear old man." Then he kissed the marks so often that his whole mouth was black with printer's ink. Shortly after every one was writing, some bent over their writing-tablets, some on the back of a good-natured comrade, some stretched out on the ground, some on the edge of a bench, on the staves of a barrel, on a tree-trunk, with pencils, fountain-pens, on post-cards, envelopes, letter-paper spilled out miraculously from portfolios, bags, and canteens. Every one was writing. The Bersaglierino seemed to be composing a poem. He gesticulated, whacked himself on the ear, beat time with his pen that squirted ink in every direction, and every now and then declaimed under his breath certain phrases that were so moving that they made even him weep. Pinocchio was as silent and gloomy as the hood of a dirty kitchen stove. Squatting at the entrance to the tent, he kept glancing at his companions, and every now and then he would scratch his head so vigorously that he might have been currycombing a donkey. When Pinocchio scratched his head in that way ... Well, now you know that matters were serious, but I tell you they were so serious that he had the courage to interrupt the Bersaglierino in his literary studies. "Excuse me, but will you do me a favor?" "What do you want? Keep quiet ... leave me alone ... you make me lose my thread of thought ..." "So you write with thread, do you? Are you aware that they don't use this any more?" "Stop your nonsense. Leave me alone, puppet." "Do me a favor and then ..." "What is it? Spit it out!" "Lend me a pencil and a piece of paper." "You want to write, too?" "Yes." "Then you, too, have some one in the world who interests you?" "Yes ... perhaps." "A godmother like mine?" "Hum! No indeed." "You are serious about wanting to write?" "Yes." "Here's paper and pencil, then. Do you know how to write?" "Once I knew how." "All right. Then let me see it." "Gladly." Pinocchio rested his elbows on his knees, chin on his clasped hands, and, biting his pencil, lost himself in profound meditation. * * * * * "Excuse me, Bersaglierino." "Ho! Finished already?" "No ... that is ... yes, I have finished beginning, but ... I don't know what you put before the beginning." "Write, 'Dear So-and-so,' or 'My darling, etc., etc.'" "But you see I can't put either 'dear' or 'my darling.'" "So you are writing to a creditor?" "Something like that." "Heavens! Put his first name, his last name, swear at him, and that's enough." * * * * * "Excuse me, Bersaglierino..." "Oh, are you still there?" "Yes.... I haven't been able to start the beginning because ..." "Do you or do you not know how to write?" "Like a lawyer." "Then?" "I don't know what his last name is." "Whose?" "Franz Joe's." "Writing to him? You want to write to him? To that miserable Hapsburg?" The news spread like lightning through the camp. The soldiers passed it from mouth to mouth, laughing like mad: Pinocchio was writing to Emperor Franz Joseph! This was interesting. They must know what the letter said. It would certainly be something to amuse them. So walking quietly, as if they were all eager to take him in the very act, they approached the tent where Pinocchio was composing his missive, not without difficulty. He had not been writing for several minutes and the words seemed so long to put down on paper. He had to keep thinking of the spelling, and the verbs bothered him terribly. When he raised his head to draw a breath of relief before re-reading what he had managed to write, he found himself surrounded by all the regiment. "Oh, you are well brought up, aren't you? Who taught you to stick your noses into other people's business?" "To whom have you written?" [Illustration] "To the one I wanted to." "Let's see the scribbling." "Look in your mirror and you will see worse lines on your own face." "We want to read the letter." "But if you are a pack of illiterates ..." "Listen, either you will let me see it or I will take you by one ear and the letter with the other hand, and I'll carry you both off to the censor, who will haul you before a court martial that will condemn you to be shot in the back." "Oh, do you really want to see it, Mollica?" "You heard what I said." "On one condition." "What's that?" "That you will take charge of it and see that it gets to its address." "All right. Hand it here, you puppy. Listen to what he writes: "MR. FRANZ HAPSBURG, In his house in Austria, "You wrote in the papers that the Italian soldiers are rascals because they kill civilians and wounded Ostrians. I want you to know that you are mistaken, because as you know the traitor was killed by a pistol that shot off Ostrian bullets by itself while it was in my hands who am not in the army. That's how our soldiers found the traitor already dead, the traitor who made signals from the church tower, so that the shells fell on the ruins. As for the wounded in the horspital I can asshure you that they were better off than me and you, and that they had guns between their leggs under the sheets. He who tells lies goes to hell and you will certainly go there, but just now I'd like to send you there myself who don't give a hang for you. "PINOCCHIO." I can't describe to you what took place after the letter had been read. They gave the poor youngster such a feast that they had to put him to bed in a hammock. Before Private Mollica went to sleep he kept repeating: "I have promised to take your letter to Franz Joseph.... You see if I don't send it through all the ranks till it reaches his own hands. On Mollica's honor!... I have promised to take your letter to Franz Joseph!" CHAPTER IV _How Pinocchio Learned That War Changes Everything--Even the Meaning of Words_ The bersaglieri had passed the Isonzo and were intrenched at ---- (censor). You certainly know now what the Isonzo is, because war teaches geography better than do teachers in the schools; so I don't intend to explain it to you. Pinocchio had followed his friends, and I assure you no one regretted his coming. When there were orders to carry to the rear or purchases to be made, it was Pinocchio who attended to them. Slender as a lizard and quick as a squirrel, he was out of the trenches without being seen and slipped along the furrows and ditches and the bushes with marvelous dexterity. He had been absolutely forbidden to approach the loopholes, and when they caught him about to disobey he got such boxes on the ears that he had to rub them for half an hour afterward. Mollica, and the Bersaglierino in particular, kept their eyes on him, so that they punished him often. [Illustration: ONE DAY HE MANAGED TO CAPTURE A PIG AND TO DRAG IT ALONG BEHIND HIM] "I'd like to know why it is you two can stand with your noses against the hole and I mayn't." "Because of the _mosquitoes_." "Who cares for them? I haven't the slightest fear of mosquitoes." But when he saw them carry off a poor soldier hit in the middle of the forehead and understood that the "mosquitoes" were Austrian bullets, he gained a little wisdom. While the soldiers were suffering from the trench life which restrained their ardent natures, keeping them still and watchful, the rogue of a Pinocchio amused himself with all kinds of jokes. Dirty as he could be, he was always grubbing with his nails in the ground to deepen the trench, to make some new breastwork, to build up an escarp. If they sent him out to find logs of wood to repair the roofs of the dugouts he would come back laden with all sorts of things. Hens and eggs were his favorite booty. One day he managed to capture a pig and to drag it along behind him. But when they got near the trenches the cussed animal began to squeal so horribly that the Austrians opened up a terrific fire on him. For fear of the "mosquitoes" Pinocchio had to let him go, and the pig ran to take refuge among his brothers, the enemy. That evening it rained cats and dogs. The trench was one slimy pool. The rain dripped everywhere, penetrating, baring the parapets which collapsed, squirting mud and gluing the feet of the soldiers, who, wet to the bone, had to scurry through the wire to carry ammunition to safety and to repair the damage done to the trench. Pinocchio, barelegged, ran back and forth, bemired up to his hair, to give a helping hand to his friends. "What fun! We seem to be turning into crabs." "You are a beastly little puppy!" "Poor Mollica! You really make me sorry for you." "I make you sorry for me?" "Certainly. I shouldn't want to be you in all this downpour." "Why?" "Because this rain will melt your sugary nature." Mollica, to convince him of the contrary, started to administer one of his usual boxes on the ear, but he slipped and fell, face down, into the mud. [Illustration] "Are you comfortable, Private Mollica? Tell me were you ever in a softer bed than now?... You look to me like a roll dipped in chocolate.... Bersaglierino, come and see how ugly he is! All chalky up into his hair.... I never saw any one look such an idiot!" [Illustration] "I wish they would murder you, you beastly little puppy!" After struggling about in the mud he managed to get to his feet again and had almost caught him, but in one spring Pinocchio was far away. The telephone dugout was a little deeper than the trench and the water was rapidly filling it up. It was already up to the operator's knees. A crowd of soldiers were working hard to stop the flood. "What are you doing, stupids? Do you think you can bail out this puddle with a cap? You are green. We ought to have big Bertha...." He didn't get in another word. They took hold of him by his arms and legs and soused him into the dirty water and held him under till he had drunk a cupful. The telephone operator would have liked to see him dead, then and there. "Hold him under till he is as swollen as a toad. He was calling down misfortune on us, wishing that a shell would fall on us. As if this rain weren't enough (che-chew, che-chew!); we are chilled to the marrow (che-chew!) and are likely to die bravely of cold ... (che-chew!)." "Enough! Let me go! Help! Bersaglierino! Mollica-a-a!" "What are you doing to him? Let him go. Shame on you!" yelled Bersaglierino, running up. "But don't you know that he was wishing a shell would hit us, the little wretch?" "Just as if we hadn't enough troubles now." "Of course you have enough, and one of your troubles is that you are regular beasts," cried Pinocchio as soon as he could get his breath. "I said I wished for Bertha, the cook in Papa Geppetto's house, to sweep away the water in here, but now I wish I had a broom in my hand to break its handle against your ribs." "But don't you know that a 'Big Bertha' is a Boche gun that would have blown us into a thousand pieces?" "So, little devil, do you understand? And now that you have learned your lesson, be off with you." There was nothing else for poor Pinocchio to do but to spit out the mud still in his mouth and turn on his heel. "Bersaglierino, I would have believed anything but that words change their meaning in this way. With these idiots you have to pay attention to what you say. They made me swallow so much ditch-water that it will be a miracle if I don't have little fish swimming around in my stomach." It stopped raining, but as if the Austrians didn't want to give the bersaglieri time to repair the damages caused by the bad weather, they began a furious bombardment of the trench. The "mosquitoes" kept up a terrible singing. Huge projectiles churned up the ground all around, digging out deep holes, raising whirls of earth, throwing off shreds of stone and steel in every direction. One shell had fallen near the telephone and had done great damage. The soldiers couldn't venture any distance from the dugout to aim at the enemy who was firing at them with such accuracy. Mud prevented their movements. They couldn't change their positions because the slippery earth offered no foothold. It was impossible to excavate deep because the earth slid down. It was a critical moment. Several men had been killed, the wounded were moaning bitterly, the dying were groaning.... But the Italian bersaglieri did not lose courage and stood up against the foe, showing a genuine disregard for their lives. Pinocchio longed to cry. He wasn't thinking of the danger to himself, but of the fact that if this devilish fire kept up much longer all his bersaglieri would be killed. Wasn't there anybody to look out for them? What was our artillery doing? Did they really intend to let them all be massacred? He had scarcely thought this when he heard behind him the thunder of Italian guns. A quarter of an hour later and the Austrians were quite quiet. But the situation hadn't improved. Orders had come from the second line to hold out at all costs because it wouldn't be possible to relieve them until the next evening. An attack in force was expected every minute. The captain assembled his company and said: "Men, we must stick and be ready for anything. We can't have reinforcements, but to-night they will send us _chevaux de frise_ and barbed wire. But I don't want to be caught like a bird in a net. We have plenty of 'jelly.' If two would volunteer to carry a couple of pounds of it under the entanglements of those gentlemen over yonder we might be able to change our lodgings. They have a fine trench of reinforced concrete with rooms and good beds and bathroom. We'd be better off there than in this mud. What do you say, boys? Is there any one who ..." They didn't even let him finish. All stepped forward, and, if I am to tell you the truth, Pinocchio, too, but no one noticed him. Mollica and the Bersaglierino were chosen. It grew dark. Some of them, completely worn out, dozed leaning up against the side of the trench. The Bersaglierino was writing rapidly a letter in pencil. Mollica had pulled out of his knapsack the old newspapers his father had sent him and seemed about to take up his old studies of fingerprints. There were tears in his eyes. "Heh! Mollica, you look as if you weren't pleased with the duty the captain has given you." "Well?" "But you ought to let me go." "You? But how do you suppose they would let a boy like you carry jelly?" "Do you think I would eat it all up? I won't say that I mightn't taste it, especially if it is that golden-yellow kind that shivers like a paralytic old man, but I would carry out the order like any one else.... Only, I can't understand how for a little bit of jelly those scoundrels will give up their comfortable trench. It's true that they eat all sorts of miserable kinds of food and that Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, but ..." "Shut up, you chatterbox! You'll see what will happen. I'll explain to you that 'jelly' in war-time is what we call a mixture of stuff that when put in a pipe under the wire entanglements and set off by a fuse will blow you up sky-high in a thousand pieces, if you don't take to your heels in time." "And you ... want to go and be blown up?" "No. I hope to come back safe and sound, and I have still to send your letter to Franz Joey." Pinocchio was silent and hid himself in a corner without another word. I can't tell you exactly if he had some sad presentiment or if his disillusion resulting from Mollica's technical explanation of "jelly" had put him in a bad humor. There was no doubt about it--war had changed the dictionary. He was still more certain of this when, an hour later, he saw the "Frisian horses" arrive. He was expecting beasts with at least four legs, and instead he saw them drag in front of the trenches a huge roll of iron wound up in an enormous skein of barbed wire. But there was still a greater surprise in store for him. That very night he was to find out that in war-time not only the value of words changes, but that there are some which are canceled from certain persons' vocabulary. It was night ... and there was nothing to be seen and you couldn't even hear the traditional fly. From the Austrian trench there came a dull regular noise. It seemed as if a lot of pigs were squealing. Instead, it was the Croats who were snoring. No one slept in the Italian trenches. There was a strange coming and going, a fantastic flittering of shadows. There was low talking, commands were passed from mouth to mouth and whispered in the ear--every one was making preparations. Mollica and the Bersaglierino had put steel helmets on their heads and had shields of the same metal on their arms. "But what are you going to do? You look like the statue of Perseus in the costume of a soldier." "I would almost rather be in his place and with no more clothes than he has on instead of in this get-up ... but what's there to be done about it? I promised you to take the letter to Franz Joey." A little later Mollica and Bersaglierino left the trench and wriggled along the ground like serpents, carrying with them big metal boxes. The bersaglieri took their places behind the loopholes, their muskets in position, and stood there motionless, anxious, and restless. Pinocchio, too, wanted to see what was happening, and, taking advantage of his guardians' carelessness, slipped out of the trench and squatted down in a big hole which an enemy projectile had hollowed out twenty yards away. The poor youngster was very sad. The black night, the silence everywhere, the preparations he had watched and could not understand, were the causes of his melancholy. "But how under the sun did it ever enter Bersaglierino's head to offer himself for this expedition?" he thought. "He might have let some one else go. Not so bad for Mollica. He'll eat up the Austrians like waffles. If any one dares to play a trick on him he'll land him a few good blows and put him where he belongs, but Bersaglierino ... so little and so frail.... If any misfortune happens to him ..." Some time went by, I can't say how long, but it was quite a little while, because Pinocchio had almost fallen asleep, when the air was shaken by two tremendous explosions. He woke with a start, saw two red flashes shining for an instant on a shower of fragments thrown up to a great height ... then blackness and the fiendish rattling of the machine-guns and crackle of musket fire. Suddenly a long white shaft of light broke the darkness, coming from no one knew where, waving to the right and to the left, and fixing itself on the ground between the two trenches, which were immediately showered by shells. "And Bersaglierino? And Mollica?" Pinocchio asked himself, anxiously, feeling his throat tighten up. Suddenly a black shadow was outlined in the gleam of a searchlight that was operated from a distance. It crawled along the ground, moving by starts. They had seen it, too, from the trenches and there were confused cries of, "Come on!" ... "Bravo!" ... "A few more steps!" ... "Stick to it!" And the figure seemed to gain new strength and to bound like a wild beast. But who was it? Surely the Bersaglierino. The form was small, slender, and very quick. Mollica was large and slow. What had become of him? Between the roar of the explosions and the whistle of the shells there came a shrill cry of anguish. The little shadow slid along, then a leap in the silvery ray, and it was lost in the blackness of the earth torn by the rain of steel. "Oh, beasts that they are! They have murdered him!" Pinocchio screamed. "Enough! Enough! Wretches! Don't you see that he has ceased to move? Stop shooting.... Give him time to recover.... Perhaps he is wounded." It seemed that the Austrian fire grew even more murderous. Pinocchio, beside himself with fury, rushed out of his hiding-place and in a couple of bounds was back in the trench. "They have wounded Bersaglierino.... He is there ... out there in the No Man's Land.... Help him ... don't let him die so." They sprang over the top to rescue their wounded comrades, but had scarcely gone a step before they were lost to him. Pinocchio lost his head. He sprang out of the dugout and ran as fast as he could into the spot still illuminated by the ray of silver. He stumbled, fell, got up again, fell once more, but kept on crawling on his hands and knees.... He heard a groan, felt a body, lifted it in his arms, and, gathering all his strength together, began to drag it toward the trench. All at once he felt his legs give way and he let out a yell of terror. He was answered by another from a hundred valiant throats; he saw a strange flash, felt a hurricane strike him, a wave roll over him ... but before losing his senses there came to him the cry of victory. The Italian bersaglieri had bayoneted those who had wounded Bersaglierino and had won from the enemy one more portion of their country. A little later the stretcher-bearers were able to gather up the wounded from the field of honor. CHAPTER V _In Which Pinocchio Discovers That Sometimes When You Want to Advance You Have to Take a Step Backward_ For a long while Pinocchio didn't know whether he was alive or dead. Then after a time he seemed to be dreaming, but the dreams were so queer that ... just imagine, he thought he was a puppet again, asleep on a chair with his feet resting on a brazier full of lighted charcoal, that one of his feet was on fire and that the flame, little by little, was creeping up his leg. And, just as once before when something similar had happened, the dream became a painful reality. However, there was another dream that comforted him. A lovely woman's smiling face would come close to him and he would hear soft, affectionate words. It was the queerest thing possible! It seemed to him that this face was set in a lovely frame of light-blue hair which came down like a veil, like a cape enfolding the graceful form of a young girl. Some one had told him that her name was Fatina, and he kept repeating the name, as once ... when he was still a little puppet and the girl with blue hair ... But what had happened to him? * * * * * One morning he opened his eyes and discovered that he was in a little white bed in a white room, and that to right and left of him in two other beds were two wounded men all enveloped in bandages. [Illustration] "Bersaglierino! Bersaglierino!" cried Pinocchio, trying to raise himself up in bed. But a horrid pain made him fall back on the pillow and forced him to scream loudly. The door of the little room opened and a Red Cross nurse in her blue uniform entered swiftly. "Oh! At last! But be good and don't try to move! The Bersaglierino is here on your right; he is better, but you must let him be quiet, and you, too, need to rest." "Tell me, Fatina, is the Bersaglierino really alive?" "Don't you see him? Here he is. When he wakes up you can say a few words to him. Yesterday he was so eager to know about you, but you couldn't speak to him." "Listen, Fatina, and I ... am I really alive?" "It seems so to me." "But am I ... made of wood or ..." "You are made of iron." "Of iron? Don't joke so with me, Fatina. If you want my nose to grow longer, dearest lady, or if you want me to turn back into a wooden puppet, I am ready to do so; but not of iron, no. I am too afraid of rust." "But what are you talking about? Let me feel your pulse. No, that's all right, no fever. I said you were made of iron because you have come out of it all so wonderfully. You were threatened with gas gangrene, and if they had not amputated at once, it would have been the end of you, but instead ..." "Please, please ... what did they do to me?" "They cut off your injured leg." "My leg!" "Yes, indeed; they couldn't help it." "And when did they cut it off?" "Three days ago." "You are perfectly certain of this?" "I was present." "And I ... wasn't I present?" "I think so." "And how is it I didn't know anything about it?" "You were asleep." "I think it was you who were dreaming. Look." Before Fatina could stop him Pinocchio caught the covers and threw them off. One leg was indeed missing and just the one which he had dreamed had been burned by the brazier. He saw a heap of bloody bandages and let out such a scream that he made the other two wounded start up. The one on the left, who looked like a monk in a hood, because from under the bands which bound his head a long shaggy beard was sticking out, cried in annoyance: "Heh! What is it, a locomotive? You are making as much noise as an enemy's cannon." "Be quiet, be quiet!" "Bersaglierino, have you seen what they did to me? They've carried off one of my legs without asking my permission." "And they took off one of my arms, and they've made a hole in my head and cut open my stomach." "But what kind of dirty tricks are these? I want my leg.... I want my leg!" "If it were still on you it would be all swollen and black. Be silent, shut up, and thank God that they haven't taken the other one. Because Major Cutemup is here, and when he begins to amputate it is hard to get him to stop. Imagine, they wanted to cut off my nose." "I want my leg!" "Be good." "Fatina, I beg you, make them make me another one. Write to Geppetto to make me another one, even of wood, but I want to be able to walk and run. I want to go back to the war, I do!" The patient on the left jumped out of his bed and, in giving him a kiss, brushed his face with his bushy beard. "There, you are a brave boy. You please me.... We will have another leg made for you, and if you want to go back to see the Boches you can come with me. Sister Fatina, is it not true that they're going to make him a new leg?" "Certainly." "Of wood?" "And with machinery inside so that you can move it as if it were a real leg." [Illustration] "Then ..." "Will you be good?" "Yes ... but as soon as I catch sight of Major Cutemup I'll tell him a few things I think of him." "How are you, Bersaglierino?" "Better, Fatina dear." "Be brave." Then she moved softly away, as noiseless as a dream. "Did you see, Pinocchio? Fatina kept her word. She had scarcely heard that I was wounded before she hurried to my bed. She is an angel and I am quite happy. But I owe it to you that I am alive. I had four bullets in my back.... Those dogs had got the range on me, and if you hadn't come to my aid they would have finished me.... And you weren't lucky, either--they shot your leg to pieces, and if the company hadn't appeared ... But we won! Hurrah for Italy!" "And Mollica?" "Dead. They found him near the wire, surrounded by a heap of dead enemies. He made a regular slaughter. He had your letter to Franz Joseph stuck on the end of his bayonet. Every time that he hit a foe he cried, 'Beast of a potato-eater, take this letter and carry it to your Joey.'" "Poor Mollica! If I am able to get back there I'll avenge you." "I told you I wanted you with me. You will see what we'll do to those creatures. I am Captain Teschisso, of the Second Regiment of Alpine Troops. What fights we have had! How we have 'strafed' them! A shell splinter gave me a whack and carried off one of my ears, but if you join me we'll have dozens of them every day." "Will I go with you? Yes, indeed, if the Bersaglierino ..." "As far as I am concerned, do what you've a mind to. I shall never return to the regiment now.... You can't make war without an arm, but ..." Just at this moment the door of the little white room opened and Major Cutemup, followed by two young lieutenants, Fatina, and some men nurses, came in. He was a short, squatty little man, with smooth face and tiny eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, and with a stomach that would have made an alderman jealous. He looked more like a cab-driver than like an officer, and even more like a butcher who has risen to be master of a shop by selling old beef for veal. "Good morning, boys. You are getting on finely, eh? When I take hold of you you either die or are better off than you were before anything happened to you. Let's look at you, Bersaglierino. The arm's doing well ... the wound in your head will be healed in ten days or so. Thank God that I saved your eye. It was a risk ... we ought to have taken it out if we had followed the usual method.... No, no, I find you in good condition, so good, in fact, that I can tell you a piece of news ... they have recommended you for the silver medal. I believe his Majesty will come in person to pin it on your breast. It would be a real honor for our hospital. "And you, lad? But really I don't need to bother about you, either. Boys are like lizards--you can cut them in pieces and they keep on living." "Please, please, Mr. Major Carve-Beefsteak, I should like to know who gave you permission to cut off my leg." "What? What? You dare ..." "There's no good lecturing me, because I am not in the army, as poor Mollica used to say, so you don't frighten me worth a soldo. So I am just asking you who gave you permission to ... carry off my claw." "Your claw? The femur was broken, the tibia cracked, the patella shattered, your temperature up over a hundred, delirium, threatened with gas gangrene.... I couldn't wait until you had gone to the devil before asking your permission to amputate. And, moreover, no more words about it. I cut when it's my duty to cut. If, in spite of the operation, the gangrene had continued I should have amputated your other leg as well. So let's look at it. Nurse, undo the bandages." In a minute the bloody flesh was uncovered. Pinocchio bit his lips in order to keep from yelling with pain. Cutemup approached in a solemn manner, and, nearsighted as he was, had almost to stick his nose into the wound to make his examination. "Fine.... The healing process has already begun ... the granulation is splendid, but have you any pain in the groin, boy?" "How in the world do you expect me to know what that is?" "Does it hurt you here?" "No." "Have you any pain in the sound leg?" "No." "Can you move it?" "Yes." "Bend it at the knee." "I am doing it." "Again, again, again. Does it pain you?" "No." "Fine!... Now stretch it out." He should never have said that. Pinocchio stretched it out with such agility that there was no difference from the way he usually administered his solemnest kicks. His foot caught Cutemup right in the stomach and knocked him breathless into the arms of the young lieutenant, who had to resort to artificial respiration to revive him. The Alpine soldier broke out into such an astonishing laugh from beneath his bandages and his beard that the others, Fatina included, had to echo him. Pinocchio played 'possum, perfectly still with his eyes half closed. When Cutemup, quite recovered, sprang toward him to give vent to his just vengeance, he seemed much surprised to see him in such a state. He examined him attentively, and, keeping himself a respectful distance away, poked with his forefinger two or three times the leg which had given him such marvelous proof of vitality and energy, then, turning to his colleagues, he began to speak in an imposing manner: "The accident which befell me was the result of the nervous depression of the patient. The reflex motions have superiority over the will centers. The muscles slacken at the lightest pressure, like a cord of a strung bow. The vitality shown by the patient is due to a nervous over-excitation, not noticeable until now. I shall keep the patient under observation. If you come across similar cases, take notes of them that I may include them in my article. I shall order extra nutrition and care in building up the patient as soon as the wound has healed completely. Sister Fatina, note for the boy special rations of filet of beefsteak, roast chicken, eggs, custards well-sweetened, at dinner and again at supper." [Illustration: HIS FOOT CAUGHT CUTEMUP RIGHT IN THE STOMACH AND KNOCKED HIM BREATHLESS] At this bill of fare Pinocchio's leg by some strange phenomenon began to bend again from the knee. The major, thoroughly absorbed in his lesson, did not notice it: "So, then, that is understood. You, Captain Teschisso, are doing splendidly; in a few days we'll take the bandage off you. Gentlemen, let us go into the next room." They had scarcely gone out and the door was scarcely closed before Pinocchio burst out into such a hearty laugh that the captain and Bersaglierino had to laugh, too. "You don't seem too much depressed." "What were you doing with that leg in the air?" [Illustration] "Do you know, Captain, as my first kick had gained special nourishment for me, I wanted to give him another one so that I could get a double quantity; then there would have been something for all of you." "Thank you, you shaved poodle." Just then Fatina returned and was surprised to see Pinocchio laughing so hard that his tongue was hanging out with happiness. "What's this?" "Fatina, my compliments. Did you hear what the major ordered? Filet of beefsteak, chickens, custards with heaps of sugar, at dinner and again at supper." "You wretch!" "I am not a wretch; I am a poor, weak invalid and no one had better feel the muscles in my legs too much who doesn't want to get kicks in the stomach." "You little beast! Suppose I go and tell the major that ..." "No, for Heaven's sake! Dear Fatina, keep quiet." "On one condition." "Let's hear it." "That you will be good, that you will be patient and let yourself be taken care of until it is time to fit your wooden leg." "I promise you. You know, once I was made of wood all over. In order to get ahead I can even make up my mind to take a step backward." CHAPTER VI _Wherein We See Pinocchio's Heart_ All three of them were now up again. It was to be for them a day of great gladness. Yet all three were in a bad humor. They didn't even talk. Captain Teschisso, dressed in a brand-new uniform, couldn't tear himself away from the mirror, which he addressed in a low voice: "Just see what they have made of me. I can't go on this way.... I am not presentable. Without an ear, with a slash on the cheek, half my beard gone ... I look like a wild animal to be shown at a circus. Lord! How many kicks I'd like to give those dogs! They've botched me so I'm no longer fit for this world.... It's against the regulations, but before I die I want to devour heaps of those curs! Who allows them to make war like this? Who permits them to reduce a captain of Alpine troops to such a sight? It would be better for me to die at once. I'm not good for anything, and that dog of a Cutemup might have made a better job of me. Let him show himself and I'll give him a piece of my mind." Poor Teschisso! He was right! His ugly scar did disfigure him. Another man would have wept at seeing himself thus; he trembled with eagerness to be revenged. Pinocchio, too, was grumbling like a stewpot, giving vent to his ill humor. They had put on him a wooden leg that was a real triumph of mechanism. It was jointed like a real one and moved with an automatic motion in harmony with his sound leg. Pinocchio had tried to run, to jump, and to balance, and had to convince himself that he had not lost anything by the exchange. But the leg had one fault--when he extended it it unbent too rapidly, hitting the heel on the ground with a noisy and annoying sound. And in addition to this the mechanism, which was still so new, rattled. "Plague take it! My own didn't need to be oiled. Who knows how much oil this one will expect me to give it? But that I'll make Mr. Cutemup pay for. If he comes up to me and repeats that I am better than I used to be I'll plant another kick in his stomach, then I'll ask how he would manage to walk if it were his, on the tip of his toes, with this heel that beats like a drumstick." [Illustration] The Bersaglierino, too, had a wooden left arm. You wouldn't even have noticed it. He could move it in any direction, and the gloved artificial hand which came out of the sleeve of his gray jacket, although a little stiff, could be moved as easily as a real hand. The wound that furrowed his forehead didn't disfigure him; indeed, it gave to his gentle features a certain air of nobility and fierceness. But the Bersaglierino was sad, so sad that if you had looked into his eyes you would have been certain that he had to make a great effort not to cry. Pinocchio noticed it. "Tell me, Bersaglierino, what was your business before the war?" "What's that to you?" "Oh, I just want to know." "I was a journalist, a writer." "Hm! Must be a horrid profession." "Why?" "Because you have to work so hard not to die of hunger." "Who told you so?" "Nobody. But if you had made a lot of money in your job you wouldn't have left it to volunteer, and as you get only fourteen cents a day as a volunteer at the front, as a civilian you must have been hard up all the year. Then ... you needn't make a face ... you don't write with the left hand ... so you can go back to being a journalist, even with ... the Austrian improvement." He hoped to drive away his sadness by saying it in this way, but instead he only increased it. "Leave me in peace, puppet!" he said, roughly and with such a stern tone that Pinocchio in his turn longed to cry. At this moment the door of the room was opened with great violence and Major Cutemup, as if hurled by a catapult, made his appearance, followed by Fatina and by a regiment of soldiers and nurses. He was red as the comb of a cock at his first crow, wheezed every now and then like a pair of bellows, and dripped sweat as a bucket just out of the well drips water. "Sister Fatina, I rely on you ... I rely on you to see that everything is in order. Four soldiers will wash the windows ... six will scrub the floors, which must shine like a mirror, and everything must be done in ten minutes. And you, boys, put on your special uniforms.... I have great news for you. His Majesty has announced his visit to the hospital; with his own august hands he will bestow the decorations. You, Bersaglierino, who are among these fortunate ones, take care to be irreproachable in your appearance. You, Captain ..." "What! What did he say? Do you think I can let his Majesty see me in this frightful condition? Half a beard, half a mustache, minus an ear, half a face ..." "But ... I don't know what you can do about it. Fix it up the best you can." "Certainly I'll fix it up, I'll ... Good Heavens! man, let me go to a barber who can make me look like a Christian, because you, Major Cutemup, have made me resemble one of Menelik's crew." "But ..." "But I swear that I won't let the dogs who got me in this condition stick their fingers on my face, I tell you." "Teschisso!" "No, I won't let them touch me." "Captain Teschisso, I must remind you of the respect due ..." "What's that? Major Cutemup ... did you think I was talking of you? Not a thought of doing so. I meant those dogs of Austrians." "A-a-a-h! Then be off to the barber's." "Thanks. I'll have him fix me up in a minute." "Boy, hurry up. His Majesty is coming." * * * * * Ten minutes later everything was shining like a mirror. The soldiers were already at work in the adjoining room. Pinocchio had disappeared. Teschisso had gone to be shaved. Fatina was arranging the white window-curtains. The Bersaglierino was seated on his bed, his right arm resting on his knee and his chin held in the hollow of his hand. "What's the matter? What is it, Bersaglierino?" He didn't answer, and Fatina, after having looked at him a minute with her large, soft eyes, came up nearer and sat down beside him on the little white bed. "Tell me what's the trouble, Bersaglierino. Why are you crying? Why don't you make yourself handsome? Didn't you hear? The King is coming to give you the medal." "Why should I care about that? What do you think that means to me, Fatina?" And then, since she seemed much astonished at his words, he continued, vehemently: "Why, indeed, should I care about that?... After they have sent me away from here I shall go back to living alone like a dog ... to fighting every day for my existence. Who will get any satisfaction from the reward the King's hand has bestowed on me? No one. Perhaps the day will come when I shall have to pin the medal on my coat to keep the boys in the streets from making fun of me, the poor maimed creature who will wander about playing a street-organ." "Oh, Bersaglierino! I never imagined you could talk like that. I don't want you to talk so." And she spoke with so much feeling that he, fearing he had offended her, started to beg her pardon: "Fatina ..." "Tell me, aren't you glad to have done your duty, to have given your blood for your country? Didn't you volunteer? Didn't you go willingly through the barbed wire to open a road of victory for your country? And now you are almost blaming yourself for the good you have done, for fear of the morrow. And you think yourself destined to end as a laughing-stock of horrid little children? Oh, but you are bad! Tell me, are you really so sure that you are alone in the world, that there is no one who will rejoice to see shining on your breast the medal your country has bestowed on you?" "Ah, if it were so, Fatina, if it were true!" "Do you believe that no one has followed you in thought through all your dangers on the field of honor, that no one suffered, knowing you were wounded, or trembled at the thought of your bed of pain? Do you really believe that there is no one to rejoice at seeing you take up again your place in the world? You are young, full of ardor and intelligence ..." "But I am poor, so poor!" "You can get rich by working. You fought the war with weapons; continue it with the pen. Write what you have seen; you will make a name for yourself and some day will be the pride of your family." "I! Don't make fun of me, Fatina. I, wounded, maimed, will never find a woman to link her life with mine." "Bersaglierino, I, too, am alone in the world, free to dispose of myself. I am not rich, but I have enough to live on; I am not a professor, but I am widely educated.... I will be frank; if to-morrow a brave man like you, in the same condition, should come and ask me ..." "To be his wife?" "I should say yes, and I should be proud. Do you understand? Proud of him and of the medal shining on his breast, which would seem like my own...." "Oh! Fatina, Fatina!" He could say no more. Tears choked him. But she looked at him tenderly with her kind eyes, and in them, too two large tears were shining. Pinocchio could not stand any more of this. For half an hour he had been hidden under the bed, had therefore listened to this noble dialogue, and had had to bite his lips to keep from crying. But as it was not amusing he could not stand it any longer. He crawled very quietly from his hiding-place, approached Fatina and Bersaglierino cautiously and without their seeing him or being able to put up any resistance, he gathered the two heads in his arms, brought them close together, and held them close, covering them both with kisses. Pinocchio's generous and lovable impulse had found the way to unite these two beings whom destiny had brought together. The picture they made was interesting and touching and would have touched every one who knew them, if at this moment Captain Teschisso had not entered, quite made over by the barber. "What ... what are you doing? Aren't you preparing for the august visit?" "Augusta? Who's she?" "What? Don't you know that the King, the commander-in-chief of our army, the first soldier of New Italy, the head of the state, the corporal of the Zouaves, like his grandfather before him, the flower of gentlemen, a good father of his family, one of the wisest sovereigns of Europe...? In short, you'll see him soon. Hurry up, because when I came in the royal automobile had been sighted.... Don't you think that dog of a barber fixed me up fine? Anyway, he was able to get rid of the half of my beard which the Germans shaved with a shell." The King? This short word frightened Pinocchio terribly. This man who commanded everybody, who could put everybody in prison, who was named Majesty, August, and Victor Emanuel all at the same time, who caused the rooms to be polished in five minutes, who set Cutemup to trembling, who kept all the wounded in the hospital in order, all of them men of valor who had held their own against hundreds of the foe--frightened him like a hobgoblin or something similar. At the very thought of having his glance fall upon him he felt goose-flesh all over his body. "It isn't fear; it is lack of courage or something of that sort, but I must get out of the way. I have never had anything to do with kings and I don't know much about the way they think. If Augusta, or his Majesty, is in a bad humor and should find my presence among the soldiers out of order, he can bat his eye at Cutemup, make him a sign, and ... whack! ... my head would roll on the ground. Wouldn't that murderer of a surgeon be glad to be revenged for the kick I gave him in the stomach? Yes, I must find some way ..." His musings were interrupted by three bugle notes which brought every one to attention. "There he is! There he is!" Then resounded enthusiastic hurrahs for the King. Pinocchio disappeared under Bersaglierino's bed ... popped up again, disguised himself, and no one noticed that ... Captain Teschisso and the Bersaglierino stood at attention at the foot of their beds, straight and immovable, awaiting the royal visit. The King in his soldier way entered without ceremony, followed by his aide-de-camp, General Win-the-War, Major Cutemup, and a number of other officers of the garrison, Red Cross nurses, and other wounded who had come from their rooms to take part in the ceremony. It didn't seem possible that the room could hold so many persons, but all of them crowded in, squeezing together in order to see the King and to be near to him. And his face, which was wrinkled, was illuminated by a kindly smile that spread out from his thick mustache grown prematurely white. He gave Teschisso a military salute, then shook his hand vigorously and said: "I am so pleased to see you recovered. I am sure that when you go back to your regiment I shall hear more of you. You Alpine troopers are all of you wonderful soldiers." "For Italy and for our King, your Majesty." "For our Italy greater than ever." "She shall be, if we have to shed all our blood." "Such is my belief." Major Cutemup had suddenly turned crimson with rage, and approached Fatina, his large, angry eyes scowling at her from behind his eyeglasses. "Why have you treated me so?" he asked, in a low, furious voice. "I?" "Yes. I told you to put everything in order." "Well?" "Look at that mess!" and he nodded toward a kind of clothes-hanger near the head of Bersaglierino's bed, on which were hung a hat with cock plumes, a coat, with a pair of trousers all torn and ragged and dirty. It was the uniform the brave young soldier had worn on the field and which Fatina had hidden under the bed a little while ago. Fatina didn't know what to say. The sudden appearance of this clothes-hanger, ... those clothes spread out, affected her so that she had no thought of the major or of his rage, which escaped in such violent outbursts that they would have started a windmill going. The King had approached Bersaglierino, and General Win-the-War presented him, with these words: "Your Majesty, this brave soldier has been proposed for the medal of valor for the following reasons: enrolled as a volunteer, he took part in the first battles with the enemy, giving an example of courage and discipline; he volunteered to blow up the enemy wire defenses; he carried out the assignment given him, and, unhurt himself, he tried to free a comrade caught on the barbed wire and managed to put to flight an enemy patrol which attacked him. Then he was hit several times by machine-gun fire. Carried to the first-aid station, he showed the greatest self-control and cheered for his King and his country when he learned that his efforts had enabled his company to take an important trench from the enemy." The King took from the hand of his adjutant a silver medal hung from a light-blue ribbon and pinned it on Bersaglierino's breast, who was so pale with emotion that he looked as if he would faint, then clasped the soldier's right hand in both of his and said: "Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! You have done your duty as an Italian soldier. Treasure this medal which your country gives you by the hand of your King. Wear it always proudly on your breast. Every one should know that you deserve it and that they should follow your example.... You are crying? But it is with happiness, is it not?" "Yes, your Majesty." "And now that you have recovered, what will you do?" "I shall go back to my profession. I am a journalist." "And ... will you be able?" "I hope so. I was very severely wounded, but ..." "You cured him, Major Cutemup?" "I myself, your Majesty; he was one of the worst cases. The left arm carried away by a shell splinter, wounded on the temple, and threatened with damage to his eye, wounded in his third upper rib and another wound in the groin with lesion in the intestines. An abdominal operation was performed, his arm was amputated and there was a suture in the occipital region.... The poor fellow has certainly had his share." "You can see that by looking at his glorious uniform; it is indeed a document." The uniform in question trembled and the plumed hat shook. "Yes ... truly ... but ..." "Would you deny it?" "No, your Majesty, I wanted to say that that uniform shouldn't be there just now. It is a glorious object, but in a hospital ward it may have infectious germs.... I had given orders to ... but ... and if your Majesty will permit, I will give orders to remove it at once." He had scarcely finished speaking when the coat, trousers, and hat suddenly fell to the ground with such a curious noise that Cutemup could not help running up to see what had happened. Imagine how he looked when he found himself face to face with Pinocchio, cold with terror. He tried to hide him with the glorious garments in order to carry him off, bundled up in them, but the King turned and asked: "What's happened?" "Your Majesty, I don't know how to explain it.... Under these clothes was hidden a wretch who ..." "Ah! I saw. I know him. Pinocchio is one of my old and dear acquaintances. I am glad to see him among my soldiers, in semi-military garb. Leave to Bersaglierino this uniform that is dear to him. It will be a glorious souvenir for his family. Good-by, brave soldier; remember your King. I called to you in the hour of need; if to-morrow you have need of me, remember that I shall never forget those who have served me on the battle-field." And the good King, the loving father, the model soldier, turned to leave, followed by his suite. Before he had crossed the threshold Pinocchio had sprung to his feet, flung him two kisses with the tips of his fingers, and began to dance like mad with happiness. His wooden leg made a horrible noise. Fatina, fearing Cutemup's anger, begged him to behave. "What? What? If Cutemup scolds me, woe to him. Did you hear? The King is an old acquaintance of mine. If he gets offended with me, I'll take out my paper and pen and inkstand and I will write: 'Dear King, you are the best and kindest man in the world, but do me the favor to cut off the head, or some other organ, from the major who amputated my leg without permission. In this world an eye for an eye, a head for a leg. Many kisses from your Pinocchio.'" CHAPTER VII _How Pinocchio Came Face to Face with Our Alpine Troops_ If you had come across him unexpectedly in his new costume I assure you you would not have recognized him. On his head was a woolen helmet from which emerged only his eyes and the point of his nose; on his back was a short coat of goatskin which swelled him out like a German stuffed with beer and sausage; his legs were lost in a pair of big boots with lots of nails. Around his waist was a huge belt of leather from which hung a number of small rope ends, and in his hand he carried a splendid stick with an iron point. Captain Teschisso was a gentleman and wanted his new orderly to be magnificently equipped. That odd creature of a mountaineer amused himself thoroughly with the rascal Pinocchio. It didn't seem real to see him struggling to conquer the mountain peaks and ready to fight those dogs of Austrians who were up there and with whom he had so many accounts to settle. They had arrived one morning at Fort ---- (censor). Teschisso had been greeted like one raised from the dead. Finally the soldiers had thrown their arms about his neck and kissed and hugged him. They all seemed like one family, and for a fact they did all resemble one another a little: tall, with extraordinary beards, with muscular legs straight as a column and hands that seemed made to give vigorous blows. [Illustration] "Where is my company?" "On ---- [oh, that censor!], at nine thousand feet altitude." "All well?" "'Most all." "And the Boches, where are they?" "Bah! We've got them on the run." "Send my things up to me with the first supply division; I'm off now at once." "Nine feet of snow and a biting wind." "Heavens! If I were sure of finding that dog who cut my beard I would go to hell itself." "I am thinking less of you than of your little orderly." "Ha! That youngster has a wooden leg and is as hardy as a goat." Pinocchio, to show off, whirled his leg around and with a shy glance convinced himself that in a wink of the eye he had won the respect of the little garrison. * * * * * "Listen, Captain, if you give me something to eat I'll go ahead; if you don't, here's where I stay." "Indeed!" "How indeed! Did you understand that I am hungry?" "And I have nothing more to give you to eat." "And I stop here." "You'll get caught in a blizzard and buried in snow and will be frozen hard like Neapolitan ice-cream." "But ... I'm hungry." "You have eaten two rations of bread, a box of conserved beef, nearly half a pound of chocolate ..." "Is it my fault if the air of these mountains makes me as hungry as a wolf? You should have told me before we left. Now I know why you are always saying that you would like to eat so many Austrians. But if you think I can get used to the same diet you are much mistaken." "Are you coming or aren't you?" "Is it much farther?" "Do you see that cloud up there?" "I defy any one not to see it." "When that is passed there is a crack in the mountain called Spaccata; we must cross that and we are there--at least if they haven't gone on ahead." "In the clouds? Really in the clouds?" "Certainly." "Listen, Captain, do I really seem to you as much of a fool as that?" "Just now, yes." "Thanks, but you can go in the clouds by yourself; I'll turn back and bid you farewell." He tried to make one of his usual pirouettes to turn around, but the snow slipped under his feet and he fell, sitting down, and, sliding on the white surface, was precipitated down the slope of the mountain with terrifying speed. [Illustration] "Help! Help!" "Stick your staff in! Stick your staff in!" yelled Teschisso, who already believed him lost. He had need to yell. Pinocchio was flying along like a little steamer under forced draught and couldn't hear anything, I assure you. Suddenly he stopped as if he were nailed to the snow. That was to be expected, you say, with that air of superior beings you assume every now and then. I know--but I can tell you Pinocchio didn't expect it, nor even Teschisso, who was leaping down to help his little friend. "Are you hurt?" "No." "Do you feel ill?" "No, not exactly ill, but I suffered terribly from--lack of courage." "Why don't you get up?" "I'm afraid of sliding off again." "Let me help you." Captain Teschisso took hold of the rope Pinocchio had tied around his waist and pulled one end of it through his leather belt, fastened the other end round his body, and, after planting his feet firmly, said: "Take hold of the rope and pull yourself up. You are quite safe; the mountain will crumble before I fall." Pinocchio did his best to get on his feet, but couldn't succeed. His hinder parts adhered to the crust of the snow as if some magician had glued them firmly. Teschisso, who had little patience and thought that Pinocchio was feigning in order not to have to climb the mountain, gave such a vigorous pull on the rope tied to the boy's belt that he jerked him up, swung him through the air for several feet, and flung him face downward on a heap of snow as downy as a feather-bed. A piece of gray cloth left behind showed the spot where Pinocchio had been miraculously halted in his precipitous descent. Teschisso glanced at it and couldn't keep back one of his loud, honest mountain laughs. Pinocchio, believing he was being swung around for fun, sprang to his feet, so furious that the captain's hilarity grew even stronger and louder. "Heavens! And you can thank Heaven that you are still in the land of the living. Look there and feel the back of your trousers. Hah, hah, hah! Don't you understand yet what has happened to you? You were caught in a wolf-trap which the Austrians put there to catch some of us, and instead you were the one, which isn't the same thing at all." [Illustration: PINOCCHIO DID HIS BEST TO GET ON HIS FEET, BUT COULDN'T SUCCEED] Notwithstanding the laughter of the captain, Pinocchio's anger evaporated in a second. His eyes were fixed on the scraps of his trousers that still hung on the teeth of the trap and his hands were rubbing the frozen surface left uncovered. He longed to cry, and felt so ridiculous that he was almost on the point of flinging himself again down the snowy slope. "Come on, come on! There's no time to lose. There is a long road to go and the clouds are hanging lower. There's no sense in your staying there like a macaw, weeping for the seat of your breeches. When we arrive up there I'll have the company's tailor mend them for you. You've got to march, and no more nonsense. Forward, march!" "Captain, it's impossible." "Heavens alive! How impossible?" "I am not presentable." "Why?" "If we find the enemy and the Austrians see me with my trousers in such a state, they will say that the Italian army ..." "Fool! The Italian army never turns its rear to the enemy, and you won't, either." "But ..." "If you are afraid of taking cold in your spine that's another matter. If that's the case let's see what can be done." Captain Teschisso turned Pinocchio over, took a copy of a newspaper out of his pocket, folded it over four times, and stuck it into the hole of the trousers. And he did it so well that the "Latest News" with the headlines seemed to be framed in the ragged edges of the cloth. "There you are. Are you satisfied?" To tell the truth, he would have preferred to consider a little before answering, but the captain didn't give him the time. He started off with a quick stride, pulling the rope after him which he had fastened to his belt, as if bringing a calf to the butcher. * * * * * I do not know if you, my children, have ever been up in the high mountains. You must know that after you reach a certain altitude, whether because the air becomes rarefied or because of the silence that surrounds you, you seem to be living another life in another world. Your breath grows shorter; it seems as if you could not draw a long one, while the lungs are so full of oxygen that the heart beats more rapidly; then fatigue is followed by a condition of strange torpor. Nevertheless, you continue to climb without effort, as if the legs moved automatically. If you speak, the voice reaches the ears faintly as if it came from a distance. Sometimes you have a certain discomfort called mountain-sickness, which makes the temples throb and brings with it such a languor that the traveler is forced to give up his ascent. Pinocchio, who for some time had been experiencing all these sensations peculiar to the high mountains, found himself suddenly hidden in a fog so thick that he couldn't see a hand's-breath before his nose. Not seeing Teschisso any more, and not feeling his numbed legs move, and feeling himself dragged upward and upward through the darkness as if by some prodigious force, he really imagined himself to have entered a new world, and was seized by such a terror that he began to scream as if his throat were being cut. But, seeing that his voice didn't carry far and that Teschisso was not affected by it, he thought it easier to let himself be dragged along and to spare his breath for a better cause. "I'd like to know where that creature is dragging me," he began to grumble in a low voice like a somnambulist in the dark to give himself courage. "I'd like to know where he is taking me. I am almost beginning to believe that I am really in the clouds, but I'd like to know what need there is to climb 'way up here to fight when there is plenty of room down below. Anyway, I don't believe that we'll find a single Austrian up here in the clouds; it's just a fancy of the captain, who must be a trifle crazy. Once I heard a country priest say that the Heavenly Father lives in the clouds to let the water down when the peasants need it to water their cabbages and turnips, and to keep the sun lighted to warm those who have no clothes. It looks to me as if He had let the Alpine troops take His place. "Hum! Let's see how this is going to come out. All I care about is to fill my stomach when we arrive, because I am hungry and can't stand it any longer. I've been eating snow for an hour now, but I don't get any nourishment from that. I am beginning to think I was better off where I was before. If Bersaglierino hadn't been injured I'd still be with him and his fine regiment. At least down there I could hear some noise ... patapin! patapum ... pum! Here there's nothing but snow and ice, not a living person to be seen. I should just like to know with whom we can fight. In any case, if the Austrians are up there it seems to me it'll be hard to get close enough to bother them.... But it's easy to see that the air up there isn't for me; I can scarcely go on, but if I slip I'd have to fall all the way, as I did this morning. If I hadn't been so frightened I should almost have enjoyed it. I went along like a trolley-car, and such speed! But I left my trousers on the way. A nice sight I'll be when I'm introduced to the company with the newspaper on ... the rear front! And, to tell the truth, it doesn't keep me very warm. I feel a little cold in my back. I don't know whether it really comes from that, but I feel it, almost--if I didn't feel so well--as if I were going to be sick." Teschisso noticed the dead weight on the rope he was pulling and absent-mindedly quickened his pace, so terrifyingly horizontal. If the boy had fainted it wouldn't be an easy matter to carry him to safety in such weather. Although he knew the rocks inch by inch, it was not easy to find the way in the whiteness of the snow nor to judge how much more of the road there still remained to cover, on account of the fog which hid the landscape. He was reproaching himself for not having listened to the advice of his comrades at the fort, who had advised him to delay his climb, when he heard a strange metallic noise which grew stronger each moment. "No so bad. Here we are!" He took a few steps more, then, pulling from his pocket a horn whistle, he blew several short, shrill blasts. He was answered by a dozen voices, one deep one calling: "Who goes there?" "Friends." "Pasquale." "Pinerolo." "I'm well. Who are you?" "Captain Teschisso." "Bah! Don't believe it." "Here, you dog! I tell you it is I." "Captain Teschisso is killed. Too bad. I saw him fall down in the valley." "Oh, did you, Sergeant Minestron?" "I'll be dogged if it isn't he; it really is he!" From the fog emerged several Alpine figures; they came nearer, growing more distinct, and then there was a yell of delight. "It is he in flesh and blood. Hurrah!" "Hurrah for our captain!" "Thank God that he is really alive." "Lieutenant, Lieutenant, come here ... a surprise!" "Captain, how many surprises?" "Let me get my breath; you are suffocating me with your hugs. Where are they?" "The Austrians?" "Heavens! Whom do you suppose I'm talking about? I came up here for the express purpose of getting even with them!" "They are a long distance away, Captain. We must transport our artillery up to Mount X [censor]; there we'll go for them." "And have you got the _filovia_ [aerial railway] in working order for that purpose?" "Yes, indeed! They have been working on it for three days." "And the company?" "They are intrenched in the hut on Mount X with the battalion." "It will take four good hours to get there." "Even more, Captain." "And how will I manage to tow along this lump of a Pinocchio who is half dead with mountain-sickness?" "Pinocchio?" "Where is he?" "Pull the rope and take him off my back; he has tired me out." Pinocchio, who was in a state of great weakness and curiously sleepy, felt himself lifted up and whirled around to the outburst of loud laughter. It seemed to him that something slipped down his throat which burned and made him cough and sneeze ... then he thought he was stretched out on a bed that was rather hard, but covered with warm and heavy coverings; then ... he experienced a strange feeling of comfort disturbed only by a long, monotonous, persistent humming. If he had been able to notice what was happening to him he would either have died of fright or he would have believed himself in the very hands of God. Fastened to the gun-carriage of a six-inch cannon, suspended in the car of a _filovia_, he was traveling over the abyss which separates two of our giant Alps. Below him was a sea of clouds, above the beautiful blue sky, all about him the gleam of white snow, and on the snow here and there a group of little gray points, like grains of sand lost in all this immensity. Those were our Alpine troops, the dear big boys who were laughing at the joke played on Pinocchio, and defying serenely all the obstacles that nature opposed to their victorious advance on Italian soil which Austria's power had for so many years disputed with us. * * * * * When Pinocchio regained his senses he found himself lying on the ground wrapped up in coverlets and warm as a bun just out of the oven. Above his head dangled horizontally the huge basket from which he had been flung by the shock of its sudden halt, and which swung on the steel cables of the _filovia_ as if it were weary of being up there and eager to set about its job. All about was the gleam of the snow, even though the light was growing paler every moment. I bet you a soldo against a lira what hour it was. But Pinocchio guessed it from the odor of cooking which sweetened the air all about, an odor which would have brought a dead dyspeptic to life. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound, rolled his eyes in every direction, in all corners, to discover the spot whence came the delicious fragrance, but couldn't see anything but snow, nothing, not even a curl of distant smoke. He was so hungry that he thought he would faint. "I am dreaming with eyes open. How is it possible that there should be in this desert pastry covered with caramel sauce? Because I know I am not mistaken ... the odor I smell is just that. If I had only a piece of bread, by means of my nose and by means of my mouth I could fool myself into believing that I was dining magnificently, but ..." But the odor affected him so strongly that he had to get up to limber up his muscles. He had scarcely got to his feet when a strange thing happened--from the very spot where he had been lying a puff of smoke rose gently upward, and this smoke had precisely the odor of pastry covered with caramel sauce. [Illustration] Pinocchio crossed his hands over his empty stomach and stood for a moment pondering. Never in all his life had he had presented to him so difficult a problem as this to solve. He thought and thought, and, like Galileo, had recourse to the experimental method. He knelt down in the snow and began to scrape it away with his hands on the spot where his body, covered by the latest issue of the newspaper, had left an impression. The smell of caramel sauce kept growing more fragrant, and Pinocchio's tongue licked the end of his nose so solemnly that he would have made the inventor of handkerchiefs blush with shame. Suddenly a deep opening appeared under the snow. Pinocchio stuck his arms in up to the elbows and uttered a shriek of terror. His hands and wrists were held as in a fiery vise and his arms were pulled so violently that he was jerked face down on the earth and his nose stuck into the snow. If he had not been in such an uncomfortable position and had been able to look over his shoulder he would have seen four devils of Alpine troopers advancing very quietly, guns pointed and bayonets fixed. It could be only a starved Austrian who would attempt to enter through the dugout's little window cut through the snow into the officers' mess, and they intended giving him a fine welcome. A corporal with a reddish beard which hung down to his stomach stood two paces away, ready to give him a bayonet thrust that would have run him through like a snipe on a spit, but suddenly he focused his eyes on a certain point, advanced on his hands and knees, and began to read the "Latest News" which he had caught sight of in the seat of Pinocchio's trousers. The Alpine troops are the bravest soldiers in the world; if any one doubts this let him ask the hunters of that foolish gallows-bird of an emperor; but they are not all well educated, and for this reason Corporal Scotimondo, as soon as he had spelled out the interesting headline, signaled to his comrades to advance cautiously. You can't have the faintest idea of how important a newspaper becomes, even if it is not a particularly late one, up there among those snow-clad peaks where our soldiers were fighting for a greater Italy. So this editorial, which contained the news of the miraculous conquest of the Col di Lana, deserved to be preserved in the archives among the masterpieces of our glory, instead of in the seat of Pinocchio's trousers. As I have told you, Corporal Scotimondo could scarcely spell, but among his three comrades Private Draghetta was looked upon as a genius, because as a civilian he had been a clerk in Cuneo. But Draghetta, who could see the Austrians a mile off and when he saw them never failed to knock them over with a shot from his gun, was nearsighted as a mole, and when he wanted to read had to rub his nose into the print. When Pinocchio felt Draghetta's nose tickle him he began to kick like a donkey stung by a gadfly. "Hold him tight; tie him. We've taken the Col di Lana! The Col di Lana is ours!" "Really?" "Is it true?" "Read it, Draghetta ... don't be afraid ... I'll hold him for you." Scotimondo sat astride Pinocchio's back and squeezed him with his knees so hard that he took his breath away. "'Yesterday our brave Alpine troops, supported by infantry regiments, by means of a brilliant attack gained the highest summit of the Col di Lana, which is now safely in our possession.' ... Hurrah!" "Hurrah for Italy!" "Hurrah for the King!" They were crazy with joy and danced about on the snow like fiends, throwing their plumed hats up into the air, waving their guns above their heads. Suddenly, just as if they had risen from the ground, a hundred soldiers appeared and surrounded them. "What is it?" "What has happened?" "The Col di Lana is ours!" "Hurrah for Italy!" "Who told you so?" "Where did you hear it?" "In the latest news of the _Corriere_." "Are you certain?" "Where did you find it?" "If you don't believe it, ask Draghetta." All this noise, this rushing out of the trenches and the soldiers staying in the open, was against regulations, so that Lieutenant Sfrizzoli couldn't let it pass without giving vent to one of his usual fits of rage. Red as a radish, he rushed toward Draghetta, shoving apart the group of rejoicing Alpine soldiers, and stopped in front of him, legs wide apart, and with fists clenched. "Is it you, Draghetta, who have set the camp in such an uproar?" "Not I, sir; it is the Col di Lana." "What? What? What?" "We've taken it, sir." "Who told you?" "I read it myself." "Where?" "On ... on ..." "Well?" "I don't want to be lacking in respect, sir, to my superior officer, no matter what the occasion may be ..." "Stupid! Tell me where you read it." "On the frontispiece of a book without words belonging to an Austrian soldier who ..." Draghetta didn't succeed in getting out another word. Something interposed between him and the lieutenant with a lightning-like rapidity ... and he felt a terrible kick in the shins which made him roll over on the ground with pain. "Mr. Lieutenant, it is I ... the scout Pinocchio, under Captain Teschisso's protection. I took part in the campaign on the Isonzo and left a leg there and in its place I now have a wooden leg of perfect Italian manufacturing. He told you what he thought was so, but I beg to convince you of the contrary. But the news about the Col di Lana is true, as true as can be. Here is the _Corriere_ which was on the frontispiece ... of my book without words, in the seat of my trousers. But, as I can't stand the cold, I beg you to have a patch put on and to have served to me a plate of that pastry cooked under the snow, because I am so hungry I could eat even you." Shortly after the delighted Pinocchio sat in front of a dish piled high with spaghetti, and surrounded by soldiers of the company who never stopped asking him questions about how the war was going down in the plains. With his mouth full he kept turning to this one and that one, uttering inarticulate sounds that might have come from a sucking pig. * * * * * The arrival of Captain Teschisso was the signal for a furious attack. He had seen in the distance a long file of the enemy clad in white shirts moving across the snow; he had hurried to the dugout to give the alarm and, taking command of the company, had flung himself on the foe, who, relying too much on the secrecy of his attack, was beaten and put to flight. Pinocchio had assisted in the action at a loophole in the trench, armed with the finest of spy-glasses. The Alpine troops had performed prodigious deeds of valor. The captain came back with two prisoners, one a Hungarian and one a Croat, whom he held by the collars as if they were two mice surprised while robbing tripe from the larder. "Heavens! What blows!" he cried, happily, to the soldiers who surrounded him, rejoicing. "But, boys, I won't let them sleep to-night. We must get ready for an attack in force. We must make these pigs sing!" There was no time to pay any attention to them. A few moments later a rain of shells began to fall around the neighborhood of the dugout. The Austrians wanted to revenge themselves from a distance for their sudden rout. Teschisso ordered four mountain guns which had just arrived by the _filovia_ to be mounted on the gun-carriages, assembled his men, and ran to take up his position in an excavation nearly a mile away whence it was possible to observe the enemy's position. Pinocchio and Ciampanella, the company cook, remained behind to guard the dugout, and to them had been assigned the care of the two prisoners from whom Teschisso hoped later to obtain some definite information. [Illustration: CIAMPANELLA, THE COMPANY COOK] CHAPTER VIII _How Pinocchio Made Two Beasts Sing--Contrary to Nature_ Excuse me, my children, for not having presented Ciampanella to you before. Ciampanella was a pure-blooded Roman, born under the shadow of the Capitol, like--the wolf kept at the cost of the City Commune. If Francis Joseph had seen him he would have appointed him at once as royal hangman because he had a gallows countenance and a body like a gigantic negro. Yet he was the best-hearted man in the world, so good that he wouldn't harm a fly. This evening he was in such a good humor that he made even Pinocchio laugh, whom the charge of the prisoners had made as serious as a judge. "Listen, youngster, don't bother yourself with these two scoundrels whose throats I'll cut some day with my kitchen knife as if they were pigs, and so you will be freed from the care of them, and I win back the honor which I lose in feeding the enemies of my country." "Are you crazy?" "Why?" "Didn't you hear what my captain said? We must make them sing." "Them sing? It's easier to make the statue of Marcus Aurelius sing that's of bronze and won't move from the Capitol for fear the Councilors of the Commune might take it to a pawnbroker's." "But I've found out already what their names are." "I, too." "Let's hear." "Pigs." "That is their family name, but the real name of the Croat is Stolz and the Hungarian's is Franz." "And then?" "We've got to find out how many of them are down there in the trenches; if there are others behind them; how many pieces of artillery they have and where; from what point their munitions and supplies come, and how many officers are in command of the troops." "That's the easiest thing possible." "You think so?" "You ask them and they will answer." "And if they pretend not to hear?" "Leave it to me, youngster. I have a special way of making myself understood, even by the deaf. I didn't read for nothing _The Spanish Inquisition_. Bring to me here those two satellites of Franz Joe and you'll hear the speeches I'll make them." Ciampanella rubbed his ears, tied an apron around his waist as when he entered upon his official functions, filled up the little stove with charcoal and lighted a fine fire. When Pinocchio returned to the kitchen, followed by the prisoners, a pair of tongs and a shovel were heating on the red-hot charcoal. At the sight of these the Croat and the Hungarian exchanged glances and a few quick, dry phrases in their language. Ciampanella advanced triumphantly to within a foot of them, bowed like an actor to an applauding audience, and unfolded one of his most polished discourses: "Gentlemen, our officers say that we must respect the enemy, and I respect you according to command; but in case any one should persist in refusing to speak, just like the beasts, I should feel it my duty to treat him like a beast, and my superiors would say to me, 'Ciampanella, you're right.' I explain this because we have need of certain information, so we take the liberty of asking you in secret certain things which you, gentlemen, can answer, after which we will give you special attention in our culinary service. This is said and promised, so I begin my questions. We want to know how many men and how many officers that big simpleton of your emperor has whipped up together against us." No answer. "What? Are you deaf? Don't you understand modern Italian? Then I'll talk ancient Roman to you." Ciampanella grabbed from the stove the red-hot shovel and waved it before the Austrians' noses. Their eyes popped out with fright, but they didn't utter a word. "You will either answer or I will give you two kisses with the shovel on your right cheeks and two on your left." "'Talian pigs! Brigands!" "May you be skinned alive! To call me a brigand! Me! Pinocchio, which creature is this, Spitz or Spotz?" "Franz." "Listen, Franz, if you dare insult me another time, I'll untie your hands and then I'll give you so many boxes on your ear that'll make you more of an imbecile than your emperor." "You kill us, we die mouths shut." "We, we ... Wait before you talk in the plural; wait till I put this red-hot shovel to Stolz's ear, and then ..." Ciampanella came closer to the Croat, armed with his other heated iron, but suddenly he felt a blow on his eye which half blinded him. "... they can ..." He couldn't finish because Pinocchio burst out laughing so wildly that he had to hold his stomach. Ciampanella, who had been taken unaware by the glass of water Pinocchio had thrown at him, let out all his anger on him. "Youngster, look out for yourself. I won't stand nonsense from you. I owe to our enemies the respect enjoined by regulations, but you I can take by the nape of the neck and set you down on the stove, and I'll roast you as if you were beef." Pinocchio became suddenly serious and began to swing his wooden leg so nervously that if Major Cutemup had seen him he would have turned as yellow as a Chinaman with fear. If the descendant of Romulus and Remus had had the slightest idea of the kick which menaced him at this moment he would have grown calm as if by magic. But Pinocchio, who had seen Franz and Stolz exchange sly glances and a smile full of irony, held himself in and, after scratching his head solemnly, approached Ciampanella, who was wiping his eye with his apron, and taking hold affectionately of his arm, said: "So you want to roast me on your stove?" "As I told you." "Wouldn't it be better to cook something on it for our supper this evening?" "This evening's supper? But you know that this evening I wouldn't light the fire if the commander-in-chief came in person to command me to. When the company is in action I am free to do what I want, and when I am free to do what I want I don't do anything. So if you are hungry you'll have to eat bread and compressed meat, and if you don't like it you'll have to fast." "Listen, Ciampanella; you reason like Menenius Agrippa, who was an ancient Roman able to make things clearer than modern Romans, but sometimes you get tangled up in your premises." "Listen, youngster, don't insult me, because as sure as Ciampanella is my name I will wring your neck like a chicken's." "But I'm not insulting you." "Then tell me what kind of things are _premises_; otherwise ..." "Otherwise you'll take me and make me sit on the stove and roast me, won't you? That proves that the fire is lighted and that the charcoal is burning for nothing, and so if, for example, the commander-in-chief should pay you a visit he would give you a fortnight's imprisonment for it, because when the company's in action you are free to do what you want, but not in the kitchen, and if you are hungry you must eat bread and compressed meat or fast." "Heh, youngster! I didn't light the stove for culinary purposes, but for strategic reasons. It was to make these two beasts talk." "But they haven't talked." "We'll fling them out and let the mad dogs eat them." "But if you, instead of heating the shovel and tongs, had roasted a young pullet and served it with one of those famous sauces ..." "Chicken in the Roman style with potato puffs ..." "Just look at Stolz. He's licking his greased whiskers as if the potatoes were cooking under his nose." "Look at Franz gaping." "They have a dog's hunger, and in order to make them sing ..." "You want me to cook a little supper such as I can cook if I set myself to it, stick it under their noses, and ... Youngster, that's a magnificent idea! When I write my _Manual of War Cookery_ I'll put you on the frontispiece as the first of kitchen strategians. Leave things to me and in half an hour I'll hand you out a couple of stews that would raise up the dead better even than Garibaldi's Hymn!" Pinocchio heaved a sigh. He had won such a battle that, if he had been a German, would have caused the people to hammer I don't know how many nails into his statue. While Ciampanella was bustling about on all sides, plucking two young fowls, peeling potatoes, frying lard and onions, melting butter in a saucepan, preparing a stew in another, Pinocchio was striding up and down the kitchen, long and narrow as a corridor, eying stealthily the two prisoners, who were beginning to show signs of a growing restlessness. They had been fasting for more than twenty-four hours and their last food had been such a mess that it might have been requisitioned from the poultry-yard and the stable. Ciampanella seemed eager to surpass himself. He hovered over his pots without paying any attention to Pinocchio, but talking in a loud voice as if he wished to impart a lesson in cookery to half the world. "Listen, youngster, when you want to eat two savory young fowls you must cook them in the Roman fashion according to Ciampanella's recipe, which, when it is written down, will not have its equal in _Urbis et Orbis_. I call it the Roman fashion, but it might also truly be called the Ostrogothic fashion ... but that's the way. Take two young fowls and cut them into pieces, put a good-sized lump of butter into a saucepan and a little onion and fry it a little; dredge the fowls with flour, and put them to simmer in the butter; when they are browned put in some tomato paste, salt and pepper, and let them cook down, later a grain of nutmeg, cover it and let it cook.... Do you smell that odor, youngster? And just think how it will taste! You'll lick your napkin like that dirty Croat who ... Ho! ho! look at his tongue hanging out.... Ho! ho! ho!" The air was filled with a fragrance so entrancing that it would have given an appetite to the mouth of a letter-box; so imagine how the miserable two felt, who, after all, were men of flesh and blood and had no other defect than of having been born under the Executioner's scepter. Stolz with his mouth wide open breathed in the air in deep breaths, tasting it hungrily as if he could really taste the odor that tickled his nostrils. Ciampanella stepped in front of him, and spouted out one of his special speeches, gesticulating with his fork. "Well, Mr. Croat? How do you think we do it? Franz Joe is worse off than the least of our Alpine troops, because we are not reduced to gnawing bones like you who make war in order to fish, as the proverb says, in troubled waters. What a delicious odor, isn't it? But don't stand there with your mouth open or I'll fill it with dish-water. Here's some!" "'Talian pig!" howled Stolz, half strangled with nausea and disgust, spitting all around. "If you call me an Italian pig again, I'll break your head in spite of the respect they teach us is due the enemy, because in this world it is tit for tat." "Listen, Ciampanella," Pinocchio interrupted at the right moment, "if the chickens are done we could sit down at the table and offer a bite to Stolz." "That's a good idea, youngster." While the boy was setting the table and the chef was dishing up the stew, from the distance came several tremendous rumblings, which brought a smile to the faces of the prisoners, who exchanged significant glances. The sound came from our six-inch guns that had been dragged with such effort to the altitude of nine thousand feet and arrived the day before by way of the _filovia_, which were now opening fire on the enemy's trenches. If Franz and Stolz had had even the faintest suspicion of this they would have changed their expressions. * * * * * "Dear Ciampanella, as a cook you should be put on the pedestal of a monument. This chicken is a masterpiece. If that imbecile of a Stolz, instead of standing there like a dog with his tongue hanging out, a foot away from the tail of a hare, could give a lick to this drumstick, I wager he would desert his emperor and demand Italian citizenship." [Illustration] "For my part, I'd rather give him the chicken than the citizenship." "I would as lief have it," Stolz risked saying, passing his tongue over his whiskers. "I guess so." "And I'll give you not only a drumstick, but half a chicken with gravy and a loaf of bread to go with it, if you'll tell me ..." "We can't talk; don't want to betray our country." "Dear Stolz, you're a fine fellow, but if you can't talk I can't give you anything to eat and we are quits. But I haven't asked you to betray either Croatia, or even Hungary, if you are afraid of Franz's hearing you." "Oh, he speaks only Magyar." "All the better; then you can tell me how many Bohemians, Slovaks, Carinthians, Poles, Germans, and Styrians are intrenched on Mount X opposite our men.... We'll leave out the Croats, your countrymen ... and, moreover, I'll wager five soldi of Victor Emanuel against a crown of your emperor that if they were here and smelled this odor they wouldn't make such a to-do about it or talk like lawyers. But smell this" ... and while he spoke the rascal of a Pinocchio took in both his hands the dish with the stew and held it close to Stolz's nose, who shut his eyes and heaved a sigh as if he were giving up his soul to the god of all the Croats. "You 'Talian scoundrel, if you give me and Franz all we can eat and drink I'll tell you what you want to know." "May the saints in Paradise reward you! If you sing and sing well, look what delicate morsels I'll give you," cried Ciampanella, jumping about with delight. He hastened to fill two plates with delicious food and two loaves of fresh bread and half of a sharp old sheep's cheese which would have brought a dead man to life. "And now there's nothing more to do except to untie your hands and to give you chairs to sit on." "We have three lines of trenches, fifteen hundred men ... two batteries placed on the Donkey's Saddle ... but you have Alpine troops and we can't get the better of you. So our colonel had marvelous plan--he had huge mine dug and thought to blow up Alpines to bust them all up. This morning we attacked on purpose. When Alpines came face to us, we go all back to retreat, but they not come to mined spot and didn't all bust up. But when Alpines enter first trench which we leave ... bum! 'Talian pigs all dead and Austrian soldiers shout hurrah for emperor. Did you hear little while ago lots of noise? I knows ... I knows what it was ... big mine blow up." "And 'Talian pigs all killed, aren't they?" yelled the enraged Ciampanella. "And you think I am going to give you food? Not by a long shot. See what game I'm going to play with you. In the mean time pray to the god of all the Croats that what you have said may not be true, because if, instead of making war as real soldiers do, your side has committed such a despicable deed, you two shall pay for it, and as truly as my name is Ciampanella, chef of the mess, you'll pay for it dearly enough." And shaking his lion head and jumping up in the air, waving his arms about violently, he took up a piece of rope and bound the prisoners tightly to a pole which supported the roof of the dugout. "And now if you can eat these good gifts of God which I leave under your nose, you'll do well, I assure you.... Come, Pinocchio, we must take this news to the officer commanding our company, because I don't believe anything wrong has happened yet." "And the prisoners?" "They won't escape, I, Ciampanella, assure you. They are tied up like two pork sausages, and, besides, you know what we'll do? When the door is shut we'll put up against it one of the bombs that they make which go off almost without touching them. I know where some of them are hidden away. If they should succeed in loosening the rope and should try to get away they'll take a ride in the air. And now we'll wish the gentlemen good appetite and be off on our own affairs." Five minutes later Ciampanella and Pinocchio were running across the snow through the dusk. CHAPTER IX _How Pinocchio Complained Because He Was No Longer a Wooden Puppet_ It was no easy matter for Ciampanella and Pinocchio to reach their company, which was intrenched about three miles away, on a declivity as sharp as a knife-blade, bordered by jagged precipices. They could not have held out against artillery up there, but the position was well chosen from which to hammer the enemy's first trench that was built on a little slope two hundred yards lower down and less than two miles away. Farther along there opened up a pass of great strategic importance which the Austrians apparently were intending to defend at all costs. Yet it had seemed strange to Teschisso that the foe with its numerous exits should try to attack his Alpine troops in force, all the more that his first line of defense might be considered as irretrievably lost. For this reason he had restrained the impulse of his brave soldiers to fight and decided to intrench them on the difficult slope to await a favorable moment for decisive action. In the mean time he had been able to hammer the enemy's position with four large pieces of artillery which he had placed on a summit above his intrenchment. When Pinocchio related to him how, with the aid of the mess-cook, he had made Franz and Stolz sing, and repeated the few words which he had heard from their mouths, he had no longer any doubt regarding the foe's strange behavior. "Heavens! Those scoundrels wanted to blow us up! Luckily I was prudent, but you'll see what a joke I'll invent to play on those dogs! Call Corporal Scotimondo." The most important duties were usually intrusted to this soldier with a face like a cab-driver's, with a large blond beard and full, ruddy cheeks, who at first sight looked so good-natured. But he was a man of exceptional energy and extraordinary courage. Calm and quiet when danger raged, he could inspire in his comrades a boundless confidence. "Corporal, from information received I have learned that we have opposite us fifteen hundred men." "All the better." "And a mined zone." "That's not so good, not good at all." "I have determined to attack the foe from the rear and force him on to the mined zone. I shall set off with the whole company, leaving only eight men in the trench, which they must hold at all costs and keep up a devilish fire to make the enemy think we are all here. Do you understand?" "Certainly, certainly." "You will command the squad." "Thanks, Captain." "I will leave you also Pinocchio and Ciampanella, so that there will be ten of you. Choose the other eight quickly, because I am going to give immediate orders to depart." "Draghetta, Senzaterra, Pulin, Cattaruzza, and the four Scagnol brothers." "All right! Go and tell them. Remember that I trust you. I am attempting a big coup, but if I succeed, Heavens, what a stroke!... They'll fly up like birds." A little later Pinocchio was witness of a marvelous and fantastic scene. The narrow trench was alive with a mass of black figures that moved noiselessly. The Alpine troops armed themselves with rope and hatchets, filled up their canteens, and replenished their cartridge-belts, whispering quick, concise sentences, interrupted with laughs, quickly smothered as the rattle of an officer's sword was heard. All these shadows grouped themselves in the depth of the trench against a heap of huge stones and merged into the profound darkness. For a time still there was to be heard coming from down below a subdued rustle, then a profound silence. Pinocchio was strangely affected and was eager to find out what had happened. He ran to the end of the trench--there was not a soul there. Where had his Alpine troops gone? Had they perhaps been swallowed up by the abyss which yawned a few feet away? He was so terrified that he began to yell desperately. "Captain! Captain Teschis ..." He didn't get the chance to finish; he felt two rough, heavy hands grab him by the ears and lift him up three feet from the ground. "Less racket here. Don't be such an idiot. Don't you know that in the trenches you've got to be as quiet as in church, and ... here I'm in command, and when I command anything I've got to be obeyed." "I'll obey," Pinocchio grumbled, keeping back a cry of pain. Corporal Scotimondo put him down gently on the ground, face to face with himself, and then asked, sharply: "What did you want with Captain Teschisso?" "I? Nothing." "Why did you call him, then?" "I thought perhaps ... something terrible had happened.... He's gone ... they're all gone." "Gone? How gone? They haven't disappeared; they've only gone down ..." "Where?" "The precipice, and then they'll climb up again on the other side, will reach the first trench, will get the better of the enemy and drive them on the mined zone. Then we'll see a fine sight. But until this minute comes we've got to keep quiet and not make a racket. Do you understand? Now go to sleep because you have been mobilized and will have to stand sentry also, and, besides, to-morrow there'll be things to do. Now march!" [Illustration] Scotimondo emphasized this command with a kick which made Pinocchio take the first steps and showed him the direction he was to go. The unexpected disappearance of the Alpine troops still seemed miraculous in spite of the simple explanation Scotimondo had given him, and Pinocchio had a profound respect for everything that smacked of magic. [Illustration] "Yes, gone down," he grumbled to himself while he was nearing the other end of the trench. "That's quickly said, but I'd just like to know how it is possible for men of skin and bones to do such a thing. The precipice is so deep and so steep that if Ciampanella had not pulled me by the collar I should never have got here. And how will they manage to get down it? Hum! I am almost beginning to believe that these Alpine soldiers are in league with the devil. I saw two of them yesterday with some kind of shoes a couple of yards long which flew over the snow like airplanes. I wanted to ask the mess-cook to explain it to me, but from fear he would make fun of me I kept quiet. But from now on I must keep my eyes more on those men. If I discover they really have any dealings with the devil I'll take myself off on the first occasion." He stumbled and fell face downward into a soft warm mass from which came a dull grunt. Overcome with terror, he was about to take flight when he felt himself held fast by a leg as firmly as if by a trap. "I wish you'd get killed. Couldn't you let me sleep a minute? You must be either a creditor or that tyrant of a picket officer going his rounds.... If you are a creditor come back six months after peace is declared, because now I won't pay you a soldo even if I had one. If you are the picket officer I tell you that when I have put out the fires I have a right to take my ease ... and now let me sleep ... May you be ..." "Oh, Ciampanella, let me go. Don't you recognize me? I am Pinocchio." "Oh, it's you, youngster, is it? Did you intend to make me sing like Spizzete Spazzete? I have nothing to tell you, but if you insist upon my singing something for you at all costs, I will sing for you to get up off me." Pinocchio, seeing that the mess-cook was in one of his "moments," thought it prudent to leave him in peace, so he lay down on a heap of straw that was close by, intending to go to sleep. But his sleep didn't last long. About four o'clock in the morning, when dawn was peeping over the horizon, he heard a shot that seemed to come from a spot not far from the trench. "Get your guns, boys!" yelled Scotimondo, rushing to a machine-gun, while the others, guns in hand, took their places before the loopholes. "It was Draghetta who saw the enemy. Boys, I count on you. We've got to make a racket, lots of noise as if all the company were here, and don't expose yourselves ... let them have a continuous and intense fire." His glance took in Pinocchio, who was gazing at him, his eyes wide open with terror, and Ciampanella tranquilly dozing. With a bound he caught up a gun and put it into the boy's hands. "Ho, lad, stop standing there doing nothing or I'll break your neck! I'll smash your head before the potato-eaters knock it in." With another spring he was on top of the cook, who was calmly dreaming a culinary dream, and gave him such a kick that he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. "I hope they'll eat you." "Ready to fire! Fire! for Heaven's sake!" Scotimondo screamed at him and ran to take his post, grumbling, "but why doesn't the sentinel come back? What's that scoundrel of a Draghetta doing?" Ciampanella rubbed his eyes and discovered Pinocchio, who stood there turning his gun round and round without having yet discovered what exactly it was that he held. "May the dogs eat you! Instead of standing there fiddling with your weapon that you know as much about as I know about training fleas, you would do better to give a look at the saucepan that it doesn't burn instead of making me get that kick from the corporal." "But what saucepan? Are you still asleep?" "Didn't you hear what he yelled at me when he kicked me? 'Fire! Fire!'" "Certainly, but he meant the fire of the battery, not that of the stove. Don't you know that we are expecting an attack?" "Who says so? There's no need to wait for it. You can wait if you want to, but I'm off. I don't know anything about war and don't know how to shoot. When there are necks to wring or beasts to butcher I'm ready, because they are hens or lambs or such like beasts, but Christians I _can't_, and toward the enemy I have the respect ordered by our superiors. Listen, youngster, if two bullets hit me in the rear I'll take them and won't protest, but I don't stay here at the front unless they tie me." He was just getting away when Scotimondo, who had an eye on him, turned hurriedly and poked a revolver at his back. "Oh, very well! There are certain arguments you can't dispute. I'll remain, but I'll find me a hole where I can be safe, because if I die the _Manual of War Cookery_ won't be written," and he threw himself down on a big stone, signaling to the "youngster" to follow him. A voice outside was calling for help, only a few feet away from the trench. "Stay where you are, all of you. I'll go," commanded Scotimondo, and, wriggling like a serpent, with his revolver in his hand, he set off and was lost in the darkness. Shortly after he returned, dragging in Draghetta. "What's the matter? Are you wounded?" "No, not exactly wounded, but I can't stand up. I'm afraid my feet are frozen." "Let's have a look," and he made him sit down and began to free him from his woolen puttees, his hobnailed boots, his waterproof stockings, and to rub his red, swollen feet with snow, all the time continuing to question him. "Was it you who fired that shot?" "Yes." "Is the enemy in sight?" "They tried to leave their trenches--two little groups--one of their usual nasty little ways to draw us out, and as my superiors did not see them, I thought it my duty to give the alarm signal." "You were right." "But I wasn't able to get back because my legs gave way, so I had to try to crawl on my hands and knees until I had only breath enough left to call for help, certain and sure that ..." "Heavens! Swine!" Scotimondo swore and stopped rubbing. "What's the matter?" "Nothing, nothing; take your place at the machine-gun; I'll take mine in the trench." "Why?" "You have need of rest," and he went off, growling, "poor Draghetta! He tried to warn the rest of us and couldn't get away himself." He again left the trench to reconnoiter. Half an hour later he returned, assembled his men, and told them that the foe had retreated to their trenches, but that as soon as it was lighter they would have to make themselves heard, so as to keep the enemy from attempting an attack, which would undoubtedly be fatal to the little garrison. They would have to make a lot of noise, but must not waste ammunition, because when Captain Teschisso's company came into action they would probably have to support it. "And I impress upon you the importance of not exposing yourselves. _The first who does so I'll send to the devil myself._ I have need of every one of you, and it's too much that out of ten one should be without feet, one a cook, and _one who isn't even a man_." "Did you hear that, youngster?" Ciampanella asked Pinocchio, when the laugh which followed Scotimondo's words had died down. "Did you hear? They want to send you to the firing-line. What do you think of that?" But Pinocchio didn't reply. His wooden leg just then seemed to have nervous twinges and rattled like a rusty key in a lock. The sun had scarcely begun to rise above the horizon and the snow to glisten in its rays when from the trench cut out of the slope narrow as a knife-blade came a sound of firing that was truly infernal. The machine-gun was smoking, but poor Draghetta didn't let it rest a minute. The others kept up a tremendous fire and an accurate one, because they could see that the parapet of the enemy's trench was marked by little red clouds. Every now and then above the crackle of the musketry resounded the humming of larger projectiles that had their own special tone. The Austrian commanders were evidently laying plans for the whole day because there was not even the shadow of an enemy to be seen. They contented themselves with replying with an occasional shell. But what would they have done if they had known that opposite them were only seven men, and one of them disabled, and that the formidable _ta-pum, ta-pum, ta-pum_ which rose above the whine of the musketry came from--the _mouths_ of Pinocchio and Ciampanella? The coming of the twilight cast a veil of melancholy over the little garrison, wearied by the fatigues imposed by its continual vigilance and the continual answer to the firing of the foe. They were all expecting every moment to see Captain Teschisso's company come into action, the Austrians swept from their trenches with the bayonets at their backs and thrown on the mined zone where they would all be blown up. Yet nothing of the sort was taking place. The enemy had never appeared more quiet and as sure of himself as to-day. What had happened to the company? It wasn't possible that it had been captured by superior forces. The Alpine troops would have fought like lions; the noise of their battle would have reached the trench, and some one would certainly have returned to bring the news of the disaster. It was more likely that Captain Teschisso, knowing that he would have to engage a superior force, had decided to attack at night. The surprise and the impossibility of judging the number of the assaulting force would certainly keep the enemy from resisting. But Corporal Scotimondo was not altogether satisfied with his captain's tactics. "I'm not a Napoleon," he grumbled, in his patois, striding with long steps through the narrow passageway of the trenches, every now and then making a right-about face. "I'm not a Napoleon. It's easy to say 'hold fast at all costs,' but in order to hold fast you have to have men. My men are not made of iron; I am not made of iron; they need rest and yet even to let them rest I can't allow the trench to be without sentinels all night. If I change sentries every half-hour, nobody sleeps; if I make them stay at the posts for two hours according to regulations, they'll come back to me with their feet frozen like Draghetta, and then we couldn't hold fast. Plague take it! This is certainly a situation to upset a corporal. If ..." He stopped suddenly because Pinocchio barred his way. He looked at him for a minute in amazement, gestured with his head for him to move to one side, but, seeing that he stood there as firmly as if he had taken root, he grunted, I don't know whether with anger or surprise. "Skip, boy, skip. Don't you understand anything? Don't you understand I want you to get from under my feet?" "Just a question, corporal." "What is it?" "You need a sentinel for to-night." "Yes, a new one every half-hour." "I have come to volunteer." "Why not? I like the idea ... you, too, will take your half-hour's turn, but this doesn't help me solve my problem of ..." "But I have come to volunteer for the whole night." "Really? Are you in earnest?" "Yes, indeed. You see, Corporal Squassamondo, I should have liked to remind you this morning early that I have a wooden leg, but I prefer to tell you now. Wood doesn't freeze and so I can stand guard for ten hours even without any danger, if you only give me enough to cover myself with and plenty to eat." "And the other leg?" "Ciampanella has told me that storks sleep all night standing on one leg and don't fall over. I am a man 'that's not a man,' but if I were no more good than a stork I shouldn't have got a wooden leg on the battle-field." The little lesson had sunk in and Scotimondo felt it like a pinch on the shins. He tried to be furious, but didn't succeed. He let out a terrible "Good Heavens!" then was overcome with emotion, caught Pinocchio in his arms, pressed him to himself, and kissed him again and again. * * * * * It was a night blacker than a German conscience. Two shadows glided over the snow and stopped in the shelter of a rock which dominated all the narrow slope, the enemy's trenches, the awful mass of peaks and jagged ridges. At the side of the adversary's position the snow was marked with an enormous black streak which was lost in the depth of the mountains. It was the abyss, a frightful wedge-shaped crack which looked like an enormous interrogation point drawn with charcoal on an immense white sheet. "You feel all right?" "Fine as possible." "Did they give you a good supper?" "I'm so full that I can't draw a long breath with all this stuff I've got on me. I certainly sha'n't feel cold." "In your right pocket you'll find a thermos bottle of hot coffee; in the other, chocolate." "Splendid." "Do you want a gun?" "What should I do with it? In case of alarm I'll keep sounding '_ta-pum_' like this morning." "Then you understand. You must keep a lookout down there all the time, there where the white of the snow meets the black of the sky. If you see anything white on black or black on white which moves give the alarm; if not, keep still. Take good care not to fall asleep, because if I should go the rounds and find you asleep I should be compelled to kill you at your post." "In that case wake me up ... five minutes beforehand." "Well, I'm off." "Good luck." "I want to impress it on you--no racket now." "Good-by, Scrollamondo. Don't worry." * * * * * Pinocchio had the courage of a lion that night, and if the Austrians had attempted an attack he would have felt equal to them all by himself. As soon as he was alone he took out from the pockets of his cloak, so full of food that they seemed a military depot, a thin rope a couple of yards long, knotted one end of it, stuck his head through, bending his good leg, put his foot on the rope, which he swung in front of him at the height of his knee, and, leaning against the rock, stood there still, resting on his wooden leg. [Illustration] "And now I am ready," he muttered, contentedly; "now let them come on. I'm not afraid of any one, not even of the snow. There's no denying it--my idea was magnificent. If that simpleton Toni Salandra had had one as good he would have saved the Ministry. Two feet of rope and the trench is saved. With two soldi's worth of soap he could have saved the finest Parliament our poor country has ever seen.... It's queer that I haven't the slightest sensation of fear.... It's dark, but I seem to see as well as by day. It must be that a sentinel's duty clears the sight. I could swear that I could see a flea a mile away. Besides, my duty is simple: I am to stay here and do nothing; I am not to get my feet frozen, and as far as that is concerned there's no danger; and I am to look out for white moving on black or black on white. Then, _ta-pum_, _ta-pum_, _ta-pum_, like this morning, then throw myself on the ground and creep back to the trench like a cat.... What a fire we kept up this morning, I and Ciampanella! He fired so often and so vigorously that he ended by falling over with fright.... If he hadn't had to sleep off his fatigue I couldn't have done the fine deed I'm doing. I am sure he wouldn't have let me get cold like this ... because ... I didn't feel it at first, but now I feel chills creeping up my spine!" When Pinocchio stuck his hand into his pocket it touched the rounded form of the thermos bottle. He took it out, put it to his lips, and drank a mouthful. Five minutes later the boy felt the heat mounting to his brain as if he were at the mouth of a furnace. "Ah-ha! That's good! When I am a general like Win-the-War I'll heat the railway compartment with coffee instead of with a radiator. I wish they'd 'murder' the garments I got on, as Ciampanella says: When I think that he made me run the risk of having eight bullets in my stomach I don't know what to do. But before I would have him burned up, it would be nice to sleep here under this upholstered seat, with the lullaby of the train that sounds as if my nurse were singing it. If he found me now I should like to drop into one of those dozes from which even Ciampanella's _ta-pum_ wouldn't wake me.... If I go to sleep I'll be cold. That tyrant of a Scotimondo would just as lief wake me up with a revolver at my head.... I'd like to know what's the fun of keeping a poor sentinel out in the cold where there's nothing to watch, because I bet a soldo against a lira that the Austrians are sleeping soundly to-night--I seem to hear them snoring like so many suckling pigs.... No, I said I wouldn't go to sleep, and to keep my word I won't go to sleep, but I can allow myself a nod, just a little nod. There's no black on white, or white on black; it seems to me to be getting more cloudy ... so that ... Scotimondo? But what is it? I am no Napoleon ... he said it. But even Napoleon when he found a sleeping sentinel took his gun and waited till he waked up. He would do the same ... with the difference that I haven't any gun ... so that ... not so much noise ... Scotimon ...? but where is Scotmona ... Scoti ... mon ... do..." * * * * * Just at this moment the snow began to fall gently, so gently, and as dry as flour just from the mill. The corporal, who was about to set out on his usual tour of inspection, glanced at the sky, then growled, as he rubbed his hands: "The Austrians won't come out in such weather. It will be a foot thick in less than an hour. I'll go and sleep, myself." * * * * * [Illustration] Pinocchio woke up with a start. It was dawn!... He found himself buried in the snow up to his chest. He looked about and could no longer see the enemy's trench; he looked behind him and couldn't recognize the Italian post. What under the heavens had happened? He was on the point of becoming despondent and ready to give the alarm when on the side of the enemy's position in the wide wedge-sloped cleft, which looked like an exclamation point drawn with charcoal on an immense white sheet, he thought he saw a curious movement like many ants. He fixed his eyes on it, and while his heart beat so loudly that he thought he would suffocate, he concentrated all his attention, all his mind, on the point there below. He saw the jagged rock swarming with Alpine troops, saw little clusters of men suspended over the abyss, and ropes hanging in space slowly lifting up soldiers; and at the sight of this miracle of daring and dexterity he naturally forgot the fear of his wakening. Anxiously he followed the maneuvers of these brave sons of Italy, saw them suddenly disappear.... Then a cry of terror rose from the enemy's trench, a rattle of guns and almost at the same moment two or three hundred Austrians were in flight and flinging themselves on the slope, pursued by a steady fire. It was time to give the alarm. Pinocchio wanted to let out one of his extraordinary _ta-pums_, but just then a terrible explosion shook the earth and clouded the sky.... A horrible yell, a cry from hundreds of throats struck him to the marrow ... then there was silence. Captain Teschisso, returning victorious from his expedition, found Pinocchio there, and tenderly gave him first aid, but, seeing that he didn't come to, he intrusted him to four soldiers, saying: "Take him to the first ambulance, with Draghetta and the other wounded, and tell the surgeon to care for him as my best friend. Poor youngster, who will have to have another wooden leg! But we have avenged him and given those dogs what they deserved. Heavens, what a fight!" CHAPTER X _Many Deeds and Few Words_ My dear little friends, I won't stop to show you Pinocchio in the sad surroundings of a hospital. I will tell you only that he stayed there for more than two months, and that he left it with his two wooden legs, new and well oiled, and that Fatina, by a curious coincidence, was his careful and affectionate nurse, and that Ciampanella, playing the part of a good friend, did not fail to make him frequent visits, bringing with him certain samples of camp cookery which enraptured Pinocchio. His surgeon was a most polite Piedmontese, always bowing and salaaming, who announced to him with all formality the misfortune which had again overtaken him and asked his permission two days in advance to amputate his frozen leg. "All right," exclaimed Pinocchio, "go ahead. I've got accustomed to such trifles now. But you must do me a favor." "Let me hear it." "When you give me my new wooden leg I want it to be longer than usual and that naturally you change the other one, too." "Why?" "Because I'd feel as if I were on stilts and it would amuse me to death to take steps longer than any one else." He was satisfied and left the hospital with such long legs that he was almost as tall as Ciampanella, who took Pinocchio's arm in his as if he were his sweetheart. "Heh, youngster, but you have grown! And then they say that we non-combatants never do anything! I haven't done anything, but if I were the one I have in mind I would bestow on you the medal for bravery because your legs have won it. I tell you, I, who know what I am talking about." "Even if they don't give me anything, I am satisfied all the same. All I ask is for them to leave me here and not send me home." "Come with me and I'll appoint you first adjutant of the mess kitchen, and when I have taught you how and put the ladle in your hand _we will live on the fat of the land_ and will make meat-balls with our leavings for the general, and when we don't know what else to do we'll write the _Manual of War Cookery_, which I won't risk now because I haven't a writing hand, as the saying is." "Listen, Ciampanella, I am as grateful as if you had offered to lend me a hundred lire without interest, but just now I can't accept." "Why?" "Because it requires a special constitution to be a cook. I'd be all right as far as eating the best morsels was concerned, but it would be dangerous for me to stay near the stove. I am half wooden and run the risk of catching on fire. I should have to decide to take out insurance against fire. Moreover, let's consider. To-day I have other views. Fatina here has given me a letter for my friend Bersaglierino, who is at headquarters as the war correspondent of an important newspaper. We'll see what he advises me to do." They parted good friends after a solemn feast which almost made Ciampanella roll under the table, like an ancient Roman at one of the banquets of Lucullus or Nero. [Illustration] Bersaglierino was truly delighted to see his dear little friend again and kept him with him several days for company. From him he learned a number of things he didn't know. One day he asked him: "Tell me, Pinocchio, do you know the reason for this war in which you, too, have played your small part and to which you have paid tribute of part of yourself?" "Do you imagine I don't know? It is _to make Italy bigger_." "And that seems a just reason to you?" "That's what every one says." "All those who don't know what they are talking about. If every nation had the right to let loose a war for the sole purpose of enlarging her boundaries we'd have to take off our hats to the Germans who provoked the present curse for their own purposes. We have other and nobler ideals. We have brothers to liberate, peoples to free from a foreign yoke. Certain lands which are ours because they were enriched by the labors of our fathers, because our Italian tongue is spoken in them, were until to-day exploited by the enemy, who sought in every way to embitter the existence of our brothers, paying with contempt and scorn, with persecution and oppression, their loyalty and love for the mother-country. Italian unity, begun in the revolutionary movement of 1811, was not completed in 1870 with the taking of Rome. The jealousy of other nations halted us on our way to emancipation. We were too weak then to make our will felt; we were exhausted with fifty years of continuous fighting and we had need of a little rest in order to restore our energy. To-day we are strong enough to stand up for our rights. Neither underhand dealings of wicked men nor betrayal by partizans will prevent the victory of our arms. Italy will be retempered in the war. Our destiny will be fulfilled. "I see as in a dream our borders which have been overrun won back to us, Trent bleeding with Italian blood, Goriza twice redeemed, Trieste in the shadow of the tricolor. Istria awaits us impatiently; Parenzo is preparing the way for us to Pola, which we shall take intact, with the defenses the Austrians erected there against our own brothers. Zara, Sebenico, and the coast of Dalmatia, which for so many centuries displayed the glorious insignia of the Lion of St. Mark, are longing impatiently for the moment which shall reunite them to the mother-country, that for them and with them will grow ever greater. War is a curse; this one which is being fought to-day all over the civilized world is perhaps the most terrible which humanity has ever known; yet it will not fail to bring great blessings. It has awakened the consciences of peoples and revealed the virtues and the defects of particular races. In the contest of the ancient Latin civilization with the Teuton power the might of right has been re-established, the right that has been trampled upon by force...." And so on and so on, for when Bersaglierino began to argue there was no way of stopping him, and Pinocchio stood there listening with his mouth open like a peasant absorbed by the wonderful discourse of a fakir at a fair. And who knows how long he would have stood there, but Bersaglierino had so much to do and was obliged to leave him alone, letting him stay in the rear where he could follow the progress of the war without exposing himself too much, but where he could still be doing important service for his country. He put him in the care of a captain of the commissary department, a good friend of his who had the unlucky idea of making him a baker in a camp bakery. He stayed there only two days, astounded at the enormous quantity of bread which was kneaded and baked all the time. All he did was to give a hand in filling the baskets which were loaded on automobiles that carried the bread to the front. The third day he made a figure of dough that looked like the twin brother of the captain, put it in the oven and, when it was baked, set it astraddle on the cup of coffee poured out for that officer, then hid himself behind a curtain to take part in the welcome which would certainly be given to his most valuable work of art. But the commissary officer's orderly found him and wanted to dust his trousers and pull his ears. He never succeeded in doing this. Pinocchio helped him out of the house with kicks and then hurled him into the flour-barrel. If they had not pulled him out in time he would have suffocated. The boy fled on the first automobile which left for the front, and for several days whirled back and forth between the front and rear lines, going forward on the supply automobiles and returning on the Red Cross ambulances which brought the wounded to the first-aid posts. The drivers were glad to take him on their machines because he kept them all jolly with his pranks, and he, better than any one, was able to get an idea of the gigantic and wonderful work which was being done side by side with the army which was fighting for the defense of its country. What profound respect for discipline, what order, what spirit of self-sacrifice in those brave soldiers (almost all fathers of families), continually exposed to bad weather, to the hardest fatigues, to the most complete privations! Rain, snow, ice, tornadoes of wind and of shot and shell, nothing succeeded in interrupting for a single minute the interminably long chain of wagons and lorries that carried food to the trenches, ammunition to the artillery, and cannon to the fortified positions. The drivers, dead with sleep, soaked with rain, shivering with cold, remained calmly at their wheels and at the heads of their horses. When the great caravan stopped for a moment for any reason these men, revived with new energy and by the force of their will, started the huge mechanism on its way again. For a little way Pinocchio thought he would become an automobile-driver, but when they told him that he would have to have a license and that, in order to get one, he would have to take a regular examination, he didn't proceed farther. Examiners he looked upon as even greater enemies than Franz Joe's hunters. [Illustration] After pondering the subject a long time he decided to become a military postman. At first he took pleasure in it all. When he arrived it seemed as if heaven had come down to earth. He was received like a king, with joyous cries and shouts, and he walked between two rows of soldiers like a general. When he distributed the letters it was as if he conferred a favor; when he handed out a money-order he had an air of condescension as if he were doling the soldi from his purse. When he had finished distributing the mail he would let them pay him to read their letters. I can tell you it was not an easy matter. Often he had hieroglyphics to decipher which would have given trouble to a professor of paleontology. But Pinocchio had such a quick mind that when he found he couldn't puzzle it out he invented a letter and did it so well that he earned a soldo by it and the deep gratitude of his clients. What disgusted him with the business was the postal service, which suddenly became confoundedly bad, perhaps on account of a change in the Ministry. Pinocchio saw his popularity vanish in an instant, and the soldiers made him bear the brunt of their dissatisfaction. One day he heard so many complaints that he grew furious and flung away the bag he wore about his neck and cried out to those who were disputing around him: "You are a bunch of imbeciles. Why do you come to me with your letters? Do you know what you ought to do? Go and get them, because I won't take another step for the sake of your pretty faces." His ears were boxed again and again and he replied with as many kicks, but he didn't play postman any more. He was wondering to what new service he could dedicate himself when a corporal baker gave him this note: DEAR PINOCCHIO,--I am having the one who will hand you this write these lines so that he can tell you for me that I have a great longing to see you, because I am not well and I don't know what to do, and I sign myself your most affectionate CIAMPANELLA, _Chief Mess-cook in the service of the Commander-in-chief_. Pinocchio was so affected by this letter that he set off at once in search of his friend. He found him in full performance of his noble functions, white, red, and flourishing as if he had come back the day before from taking the cure at Montecatini. "Well?" he said in astonishment, after they had embraced. "Well, youngster, I am here and I am not here in this beastly world." "But, truly ..." "You wouldn't say that I am on the downward path, to make use of the words of the chaplain, but Ciampanella is no longer himself. They have given me only a few months more to live. I don't mind for myself, you know. I think that I shall be as well off there as I have been here.... But I am thinking of humanity." "Nothing and a little less than nothing." "No joking now, youngster. Without the _Manual of War Cookery_ written by Ciampanella humanity can never be happy, because with it men will eat and laugh, and when you laugh you spend willingly, and when you spend willingly you eat well.... So that ..." "Why don't you write it?" "First of all, because I lack the knowledge of handwriting, which you've got to do; that is why I sent for you, and then ... because I am afraid that I won't have time enough to dictate it all, because the surgeon-major who examined me said that I had a disease of the liver from eating too much, and that it would be the liver that would bring me to my grave if I didn't stop immediately living on the fat of the land and drink quantities of water. Listen, youngster, I have always had a great antipathy for liver, so much so that I never even put it in patties called Strasburg and which in my _Manual_ I will rechristen 'Austro-German Trenches with Reinforcements of War Bread and Ambushed in Jelly.' But that's not the point. As I tell you, I have always had a great antipathy to liver, but also for water, so much so, I'll tell you in confidence, that sometimes I don't even use it to wash my face in. "So listen. Since they have brought me to this crossroads--either drink water and live or eat good things and let my liver take me to the next world--I have decided on the latter. Before dying I wanted to call you to my presence to tell you that as I have no one in the world I have been thinking of leaving you everything I possess: ten ladles, a carver, the change-purse, and the recipes for the _Manual_, for which, when you publish it, they will give you at least the cross of a knight, that when you put it on will make, you feel 'way and ahead of those who look at you." [Illustration] In short, Ciampanella said so much and did so much that he persuaded Pinocchio to stay with him. And certainly the boy could not find a better way of making himself useful to his country. The mess-cook was at the orders of a division. Each day he satisfied the hunger of four generals, six colonels, and a crowd of majors and captains of the General Staff. All these were men who had need of good eating that wouldn't cause indigestion. Pinocchio served ... as director of the mess. When he saw some saucepan boiling over, a pot too full, he quickly reduced them by tasting their contents generously. Sauces and ragoûts were his passion. Every now and then you might have seen him dipping half a loaf of bread into the casseroles. One day a captain who was inspecting surprised him at this, and naturally he lit into Ciampanella about it, who threatened to quit the kitchen if they didn't leave him in peace. "Do you understand, Mr. Captain? Do you imagine that standing over a fire is a great pleasure? I am beginning to believe that it is better to stay in the trenches and die _with a ball in the head_ than in the rear when you come and ruin my comfort with your inspections. But do you know what I'll do? I'll hide the ladles in a place I know of and I'll take up a musket and you'll see what you'll see." The captain had to slink off, speeded by the laughs of Pinocchio, whose nose was smeared and greasy and his mouth dripping with tomato sauce. Ciampanella, who was so lacking in respect to his superiors, obeyed the boy as if he were a head taller than he. Pinocchio had persuaded him to drink quarts of water and to take digestive tablets after his meals, and every morning a spoonful of salts in a glass of water as the surgeon-major had ordered. And he followed out this prescription so carefully that he had noticed a wonderful improvement, and he kept a big bottle full of medicine among his cans of pepper and spices. This fact had several times started an idea in Pinocchio's whimsical pate, and several times he had been on the point of exchanging this medicine for the kitchen salt, but the thought of the serious consequences which might result had kept him from doing it. Moreover, Pinocchio was called more and more often to serve the mess-table and spent less time in the kitchen. The famous captain of the inspection had thought in this way to avenge himself upon that most insolent of semi-puppets, but, to tell you the truth, he didn't find it bad. Serving at table so many grand generals seemed to him almost an honor, and he was proud of it. When he handed the dishes to the highest officers he would make low bows; the captains he treated almost with disdain. He always tried to serve his "particular" captain the last, and when there was left in the dish scarcely enough to scrape out another portion he would whisper in his ear: "Heh, Captain, blessed are those that are last!" The captain fumed, but waited for the moment when he could give him a reprimand. He thought the time had come one morning when he found a fly in the stew. "Come here, you little beast." "Yes, sir; at your orders, sir." "Look!" and he stuck the plate of stew two inches from his nose. "There is no doubt, Captain, that it is a fly, a very vulgar fly," and sticking two fingers delicately into the sauce he pulled the insect out ... "a fly indeed! But you may consider yourself lucky because in the rations of your men there will be at least twenty of them. And those who fight don't think much of it. You do the same, Captain ... in war-time don't bother about such trifles." A tank commander who was next to him laughed heartily. The captain, as green as a newly formed tomato, kept quiet and ate the stew. * * * * * That day there was a grand dinner for some French and British officers who had come on a mission to the front. Ciampanella had cooked one of his wonderful recipes. Pinocchio, who had stuck his nose and tongue into all the pots and pans, swore that even the King's cook was not equal to producing such a dinner. And he, too, wished to do himself honor. He set the table in a grassy spot surrounded by high trees and thick hedges. It wasn't possible to find a more picturesque spot, shady and safe from curious eyes, from reporters, and--spies. It was a little distance from the kitchen, but distances didn't bother Pinocchio, whose legs, longer than ordinary ones, could take steps like a giant's. He decorated the table with wild flowers and wove between the branches of the trees the flags of Italy, France, England, and America, tied together with the colors of Belgium, dressed himself afresh, and prepared to display all his good manners. All the high officers seated at the table made a wonderful sight. The uniforms, starred with crosses and ribbons, shining with gold and silver, were all the more sparkling against the green background of the trees and the meadow. Pinocchio had served the finest _consommé_ with the air of a head waiter in an expensive restaurant. When he returned to serve a magnificent capon in jelly shaped like a cannon surrounded by hearts of green lettuce which appeared on the menu under the name "William's Wishes, with Evasions of German Financiers," he was struck by a strange sight. All the diners had fled from the table and were going hurriedly behind the hedge, overcome with nausea. A terrible idea flashed through Pinocchio's mind. He turned around and, his capon in his hand, rushed to the kitchen. "Ciampanella! Ciampanella!" "What's the matter?" "The medicine?" "What's the medicine got to do with dinner?" "What did you put in the soup?" "Are you crazy, youngster? Be quiet and let the officers eat." "Ciampanella, are you perfectly sure of yourself?" "Why do you ask me if I am sure of myself?" "Because ... the officers aren't eating." "What are they doing?" "Just come and see, because I don't understand about cooking." They went running, but had scarcely passed the threshold when a bomb from an enemy airplane burst a few feet from them. They were hit in the chest by a column of air which turned them round, were hurled back into the kitchen, and buried beneath a shower of masonry. * * * * * Ciampanella remained buried there, to the great misfortune of humanity, who, after all, had to do without his _Manual of War Cookery_, but Pinocchio was dug out alive. He was carried hastily to the nearest ambulance station and fell into the hands of a splendid surgeon, who, after having set a slender fracture of the arm and of the breastbone, swore to save him in spite of fate. He hurriedly amputated an arm, and a fortnight later in the hospital of a near-by city they extracted the broken ribs, for which they substituted two silver plates. When Fatina and the Bersaglierino hurried to his bed to help him and cheer him they found themselves face to face with a poor creature who, with his artificial legs, arm, and breast, seemed indeed ... a wooden puppet. But Pinocchio was still himself, humorous, lively, and mischievous. When he noticed that Fatina was looking at him with her big blue eyes full of tears and pity, he shrugged his shoulders and, scratching his left ear vigorously, made a face and said: "Pretty object, heh? But you must be patient. In order to become a real boy I couldn't help but go back to ... the old one!" CHAPTER XI _And Now--Finished or Not Finished_ It was a beautiful morning, sparkling with sunshine and glory because the tricolor was waving from the windows of every house and the people in the streets had joy in their eyes and a smile on their lips. On the terrace of a handsome mansion, a terrace of marble decorated with exotic plants, at the end of which was a large stained-glass window, a man of mature age and military bearing was stretched out in a reclining-chair. He was smoking a large meerschaum pipe and blew out such puffs of smoke that it seemed as if he were trying to obscure the sun. By his side was a soldier awaiting orders, and near by was a stand on which a magnificent green parrot stood, scratching his head with his claw and rolling his big yellow eyes. "Heh! What do you say to that, Duretti? Are we or are we not great? To-day that we can say we have made Italy?" "Now you see Italy The general has made so free ..." chattered the wretch of a parrot. "Be quiet, Coccorito; if you keep on with that nonsense I won't give you any sunflower seeds for a week. I'd like to know who trained him to be so impertinent during my absence. If it were not ..." General Win-the-War started to get up, but a sudden twinge of pain made him cry out and keep still in his chair. After biting his lips for five minutes he began again to suck the mouthpiece of his pipe, and after smoking up the air for another five minutes he said: "Heh! My dear Duretti, it is a great satisfaction to fight for the greatness of one's country, and if it were not for that cursed Austrian shot which broke my leg I should like ..." But Coccorito wouldn't let him finish and began to sing in his horrible voice: "Every day, Pé--pé--pé, When he grew great, The soldiers he ate, Ho, ho, ho! He broke his leg, Or so he said, 'Tis gout, you know, Won't let him go ..." [Illustration] The general groaned and threw with all the strength he had left his big meerschaum pipe at the bird. Coccorito would have come to a sad end if the god of parrots had not, as he always did, held his protecting hand over his tuft. The pipe grazed his head and fell in the street, while he, with a strong tug at his light brass chain, flew off and perched himself on the window-sill of the floor above, where he laughed loudly and cried: "Ha, ha, ha! The general to the front set out, Felt a blow and down he fell, Because he suffers from the gout. He says his leg he broke--well, well-- For his King, for Italy He broke his leg--he, he, he, he!" But Coccorito could now sing in peace and be as insolent as he liked because the general was no longer paying any attention to him, for two excellent reasons. First, because, in spite of his high rank, he was not great enough to reach up to the second-floor window; second, and more important, because at the moment that his pipe fell in the street a carriage stopped in front of the house and out of it got a gentleman, a lady, and ... a small box they were carrying, and it was against this box that the strange projectile fell, making such a clatter that the lady couldn't help uttering a few words of protest. Win-the-War, who never allowed any one to outdo him in courtesy, found it necessary to explain matters, and with the help of his orderly got up from his chair and dragged himself to the railing of the terrace. "Pardon me, I beg you.... You are right to protest, but my pipe ... fell.... I threw it.... In short, it is all the fault of my parrot, who upset me and the pipe. Coccorito, show them at least ... so that the lady and gentleman may not believe ..." "But don't imagine such a thing, General. Don't bother yourself ... it is no matter." "Ha, ha, ha! The general to the front set out, Felt a blow and down he fell, Because he suffers from the gout. He says his leg he broke--well, well-- For his King, for Italy He broke his leg--he, he, he, he!" Coccorito began again. "Oh, you wretch! Did you hear him?" "Don't apologize, General. I beg your pardon. Does old Geppetto live here?" "Yes, sir, on the floor above. Ring the second bell." "Thank you." "Not at all." Old Geppetto was getting ready to mend an old table the legs of which were red with worm-holes and had in hand a piece of seasoned wood, a splendid piece. He was going to cut it with a hatchet and he had lifted up his hand holding the shining tool, when who knows what queer thoughts made his arm fall heavily. Did he perhaps remember that other famous piece of wood from which the sprightly little old man had shaped the wonderful puppet which had brought him so much bother and trouble? And what had become of him? Why had he sent no news of himself since he had gone out into the world like a real boy? Perhaps the poor little old man would have preferred to have him still at his side, a puppet as he used to be, and of wood out of which he had made him, than to be left thus alone in the last years of his life. He had tried so often to make another Pinocchio, but he had never been able to finish his work. His hands trembled; his eyes were no longer what they used to be, and even the wood--certainly it was the truth about the wood--wasn't what it used to be. When he heard the bell ring he felt his heart beat, and he ran to open the door, swaying from side to side like a drunken man. "Who's there?" "It's I, Geppetto. Don't you recognize me?" "My Fatina!" "Yes, indeed, your Fatina who has come to introduce her husband, the Bersaglierino, to you, and to see how you are, and to bring you somebody you are fond of, very fond of," she replied, as they entered. He gave her a long, questioning glance from beneath his spectacles; then he spied Pinocchio mischievously hiding behind Fatina and the Bersaglierino. "Oh, Fatina! Fatina! How did they bring my poor puppet to such a state?" sobbed Geppetto as he looked at Pinocchio. "What under the sun is all this machinery and these contraptions? I made him of wood, all of wood, and so splendidly that no one was ever able to imitate him. Why did you let them abuse him in this way? Wouldn't it have been better if you had let him stay a _real boy_ than to bring him back to me in this condition?" And the dear little old man couldn't contain himself and gave vent to his sorrow in loud weeping. Fatina and the Bersaglierino could find no words to comfort him with and looked at him compassionately, their own throats tightening. When Papa Geppetto had grown a little calmer he took his puppet in his arms and examined him carefully all over, shaking his head and drawing his lips tightly as if he wished to keep his sobs from bursting out again. He saw the artificial legs, the arm with its steel spring and the tweezers for hands; he saw the large silver plate which supported the breastbone--admired all this up-to-date mechanism, but was not in the least satisfied. The poor little old man preferred his wooden puppet _all of wood_ to the marrow ... and he no longer recognized _his_ old Pinocchio. "Oh, Fatina!" he said, sighing, "who brought him to such a state?" "Our country, dear friend." "Our country?" and for a moment he stood there, his eyes wide open with surprise. "Our country, did you say, Fatina?" Then he was lost in thought again. [Illustration] While the old man was bending over Pinocchio, Fatina and Bersaglierino quietly slipped out of the door. Papa Geppetto was again alone with his beloved puppet in the same room where he had first carved the little fellow out of pine wood. Don't you remember how Pinocchio first broke up everything before he ran away? How he knocked over the chest, rummaged the wardrobe, broke the mirror, upset the little table, turned over the chairs, pulled the pictures off the walls, and tore down the window-curtains? And don't you remember how he left everything in a mess and ran out into the street wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain? Well, Pinocchio was home again, and Papa Geppetto had long ago repaired the things Pinocchio had broken. Everything was in good order except Pinocchio himself. That was what worried the old man. He did not care much about the mirrors, wardrobes, or window-curtains, but he _did_ care about his little puppet friend whom he loved. It was getting dark and old Geppetto sat down in a large armchair and held Pinocchio on his lap. As the shadows began to gather and the room to get darker, Papa Geppetto began to nod and soon closed his eyes. With his arms clasped around Pinocchio, he went to sleep. If you could now step quietly into the room, you would see both of them asleep. The old man's head was resting on Pinocchio's head, and Pinocchio's on Geppetto's shoulder. The little puppet was sleeping quietly, but the old man was not. He seemed to be having a bad dream, judging from his sighs and groans. "Oh, Pinocchio!" he said, aloud, in his sleep, "why did you run away and go to the war? Just look at you! No legs, and one arm gone! I wish you were my dear wooden puppet again." Then the old man sighed, but kept on sleeping. After about two hours Papa Geppetto awoke. It was now quite dark, but not so dark that the old man could not see that some change had come over Pinocchio. He looked down at the little sleeping puppet and what do you think he saw? Not artificial legs and an arm. Oh no! Pinocchio was just as he was when he was first made. Pinocchio was again the little wooden puppet! Papa Geppetto was so overcome with joy that he caught up Pinocchio in his arms and hugged him so tight he nearly smothered the little fellow. And Pinocchio threw his arms around the old man's neck and kissed the top of his bald head. THE END 
16865	----	PINOCCHIO THE TALE OF A PUPPET By C COLLODI [Illustration: "HOW MUCH DOES IT COST TO GO IN?"] [Illustration] PINOCCHIO THE TALE OF A PUPPET By C COLLODI Illustrated By ALICE CARSEY WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO. RACINE, WISCONSIN COPYRIGHT 1916 BY WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO. RACINE, WISCONSIN PRINTED IN U.S.A. Transcriber's Note: The untitled illustration on page 26 was not listed in the List of Illustrations of the source book. In several cases, missing punctuation was added or wrong punctuation removed. The following typos were fixed: thouand to thousand Harelquin to Harlequin pretrified to petrified CONTENTS Chap. Page I THE PIECE OF WOOD THAT LAUGHED AND CRIED LIKE A CHILD 9 II MASTER CHERRY GIVES THE WOOD AWAY 12 III GEPPETTO NAMES HIS PUPPET PINOCCHIO 16 IV THE TALKING-CRICKET SCOLDS PINOCCHIO 23 V THE FLYING EGG 26 VI PINOCCHIO'S FEET BURN TO CINDERS 29 VII GEPPETTO GIVES HIS OWN BREAKFAST TO PINOCCHIO 31 VIII GEPPETTO MAKES PINOCCHIO NEW FEET 35 IX PINOCCHIO GOES TO SEE A PUPPET-SHOW 39 X THE PUPPETS RECOGNIZE THEIR BROTHER PINOCCHIO 42 XI FIRE-EATER SNEEZES AND PARDONS PINOCCHIO 45 XII PINOCCHIO RECEIVES A PRESENT OF FIVE GOLD PIECES 49 XIII THE INN OF THE RED CRAW-FISH 57 XIV PINOCCHIO FALLS AMONG ASSASSINS 61 XV THE ASSASSINS HANG PINOCCHIO TO THE BIG OAK 65 XVI THE BEAUTIFUL CHILD RESCUES THE PUPPET 71 XVII PINOCCHIO WILL NOT TAKE HIS MEDICINE 75 XVIII PINOCCHIO AGAIN MEETS THE FOX AND THE CAT 81 XIX PINOCCHIO IS ROBBED OF HIS MONEY 87 XX PINOCCHIO STARTS BACK TO THE FAIRY'S HOUSE 91 XXI PINOCCHIO ACTS AS WATCH-DOG 94 XXII PINOCCHIO DISCOVERS THE ROBBERS 97 XXIII PINOCCHIO FLIES TO THE SEASHORE 101 XXIV PINOCCHIO FINDS THE FAIRY AGAIN 109 XXV PINOCCHIO PROMISES THE FAIRY TO BE GOOD 116 XXVI THE TERRIBLE DOG-FISH 120 XXVII PINOCCHIO IS ARRESTED BY THE GENDARMES 126 XXVIII PINOCCHIO ESCAPES BEING FRIED LIKE A FISH 133 XXIX HE RETURNS TO THE FAIRY'S HOUSE 139 XXX THE "LAND OF BOOBIES" 147 XXXI PINOCCHIO ENJOYS FIVE MONTHS OF HAPPINESS 153 XXXII PINOCCHIO TURNS INTO A DONKEY 160 XXXIII PINOCCHIO IS TRAINED FOR THE CIRCUS 167 XXXIV PINOCCHIO IS SWALLOWED BY THE DOG-FISH 178 XXXV A HAPPY SURPRISE FOR PINOCCHIO 186 XXXVI PINOCCHIO AT LAST CEASES TO BE A PUPPET AND BECOMES A BOY 194 LINE ILLUSTRATIONS DECORATIVE TITLE PAGE 1 THE RUNAWAY PUPPET 9 GEPPETTO CARRIED OFF HIS FINE PIECE OF WOOD 12 HE SET TO WORK TO CUT OUT HIS PUPPET 16 A LITTLE CHICKEN POPPED OUT 17 PINOCCHIO THREW HIS HAMMER AT THE TALKING-CRICKET 23 UNTITLED 26 POOR PINOCCHIO'S FEET BURN TO CINDERS 29 GEPPETTO MAKES HIS PUPPET SOME CLOTHES 35 THE PUPPETS BEGAN TO DANCE MERRILY 45 PINOCCHIO MEETS THE CAT AND THE FOX 49 SPLASH! SPLASH! THEY FELL INTO THE DITCH 52 DINNER AT THE RED CRAW-FISH INN 57 PINOCCHIO ESCAPES FROM HIS ASSASSINS 61 THEY HUNG PINOCCHIO TO THE BIG OAK TREE 65 FOUR RABBITS AS BLACK AS INK ENTERED 69 THE FALCON SAVES PINOCCHIO 71 PINOCCHIO REFUSES TO TAKE HIS MEDICINE 75 TREACHEROUS COMPANIONS 81 THE JUDGE WAS A BIG APE 87 PINOCCHIO GETS HIS FOOT CAUGHT IN A TRAP 94 THE NEW WATCH-DOG 97 PINOCCHIO'S WILD RIDE ON THE PIGEON'S BACK 101 AN IMMENSE SERPENT STRETCHED ACROSS THE ROAD 104 PINOCCHIO BRAVES THE SEA TO SAVE HIS FATHER 109 "SCHOOL GIVES ME PAIN ALL OVER THE BODY" 116 PINOCCHIO STARTS OFF HAPPILY FOR SCHOOL 120 "OH, I AM SICK OF BEING A PUPPET!" 121 THE BOYS THREW THEIR BOOKS AT POOR PINOCCHIO 126 THE FISHERMAN PUT HIS HAND INTO THE NET 133 THE DOG SEIZES PINOCCHIO AND ESCAPES 139 "HERE IS THE COACH!" SHOUTED CANDLEWICK 147 THEY ARRIVE IN THE "LAND OF THE BOOBIES" 153 THE BOYS ARE TURNED INTO DONKEYS 160 THE LITTLE DONKEYS ARE SOLD 167 ALL HIS FRIENDS WERE INVITED 172 THE PUPPET WAS WRIGGLING LIKE AN EEL 178 SWALLOWED BY THE DOG-FISH 186 IT WOULD BE MORE COMFORTABLE ON THE TUNNY'S BACK 189 THE BLIND CAT AND THE TAILLESS FOX 194 [Illustration] PINOCCHIO CHAPTER I THE PIECE OF WOOD THAT LAUGHED AND CRIED LIKE A CHILD There was once upon a time a piece of wood in the shop of an old carpenter named Master Antonio. Everybody, however, called him Master Cherry, on account of the end of his nose, which was always as red and polished as a ripe cherry. No sooner had Master Cherry set eyes on the piece of wood than his face beamed with delight, and, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction, he said softly to himself: "This wood has come at the right moment; it will just do to make the leg of a little table." He immediately took a sharp axe with which to remove the bark and the rough surface, but just as he was going to give the first stroke he heard a very small voice say imploringly, "Do not strike me so hard!" He turned his terrified eyes all around the room to try and discover where the little voice could possibly have come from, but he saw nobody! He looked under the bench--nobody; he looked into a cupboard that was always shut--nobody; he looked into a basket of shavings and sawdust--nobody; he even opened the door of the shop and gave a glance into the street--and still nobody. Who, then, could it be? "I see how it is," he said, laughing and scratching his wig, "evidently that little voice was all my imagination. Let us set to work again." And, taking up the axe, he struck a tremendous blow on the piece of wood. "Oh! oh! you have hurt me!" cried the same little voice dolefully. This time Master Cherry was petrified. His eyes started out of his head with fright, his mouth remained open, and his tongue hung out almost to the end of his chin, like a mask on a fountain. As soon as he had recovered the use of his speech he began to say, stuttering and trembling with fear: "But where on earth can that little voice have come from that said 'Oh! oh!'? Is it possible that this piece of wood can have learned to cry and to lament like a child? I cannot believe it. This piece of wood is nothing but a log for fuel like all the others, and thrown on the fire it would about suffice to boil a saucepan of beans. How then? Can anyone be hidden inside it? If anyone is hidden inside, so much the worse for him. I will settle him at once." So saying, he seized the poor piece of wood and commenced beating it without mercy against the walls of the room. Then he stopped to listen if he could hear any little voice lamenting. He waited two minutes--nothing; five minutes--nothing; ten minutes--still nothing! "I see how it is," he then said, forcing himself to laugh, and pushing up his wig; "evidently the little voice that said 'Oh! oh!' was all my imagination! Let us set to work again." Putting the axe aside, he took his plane, to plane and polish the bit of wood; but whilst he was running it up and down he heard the same little voice say, laughing: "Stop! you are tickling me all over!" This time poor Master Cherry fell down as if he had been struck by lightning. When he at last opened his eyes he found himself seated on the floor. His face was changed, even the end of his nose, instead of being crimson, as it was nearly always, had become blue from fright. [Illustration] CHAPTER II MASTER CHERRY GIVES THE WOOD AWAY At that moment some one knocked at the door. "Come in," said the carpenter, without having the strength to rise to his feet. A lively little old man immediately walked into the shop. His name was Geppetto, but when the boys of the neighborhood wished to make him angry they called him Pudding, because his yellow wig greatly resembled a pudding made of Indian corn. Geppetto was very fiery. Woe to him who called him Pudding! He became furious and there was no holding him. "Good-day, Master Antonio," said Geppetto; "what are you doing there on the floor?" "I am teaching the alphabet to the ants." "Much good may that do you." "What has brought you to me, neighbor Geppetto?" "My legs. But to tell the truth. Master Antonio, I came to ask a favor of you." "Here I am, ready to serve you," replied the carpenter, getting on his knees. "This morning an idea came into my head." "Let us hear it." "I thought I would make a beautiful wooden puppet; one that could dance, fence, and leap like an acrobat. With this puppet I would travel about the world to earn a piece of bread and a glass of wine. What do you think of it?" "Bravo, Pudding!" exclaimed the same little voice, and it was impossible to say where it came from. Hearing himself called Pudding, Geppetto became as red as a turkey-cock from rage and, turning to the carpenter, he said in a fury: "Why do you insult me?" "Who insults you?" "You called me Pudding!" "It was not I!" "Do you think I called myself Pudding? It was you, I say!" "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes!" And, becoming more and more angry, from words they came to blows, and, flying at each other, they bit and fought, and scratched. When the fight was over Master Antonio was in possession of Geppetto's yellow wig, and Geppetto discovered that the grey wig belonging to the carpenter remained between his teeth. "Give me back my wig," screamed Master Antonio. "And you, return me mine, and let us be friends again." The two old men having each recovered his own wig, shook hands and swore that they would remain friends to the end of their lives. "Well, then, neighbor Geppetto," said the carpenter, to prove that peace was made, "what is the favor that you wish of me?" "I want a little wood to make my puppet; will you give me some?" Master Antonio was delighted, and he immediately went to the bench and fetched the piece of wood that had caused him so much fear. But just as he was going to give it to his friend the piece of wood gave a shake and, wriggling violently out of his hands, struck with all of its force against the dried-up shins of poor Geppetto. "Ah! is that the courteous way in which you make your presents, Master Antonio? You have almost lamed me!" "I swear to you that it was not I!" "Then you would have it that it was I?" "The wood is entirely to blame!" "I know that it was the wood; but it was you that hit my legs with it!" "I did not hit you with it!" "Liar!" "Geppetto, don't insult me or I will call you Pudding!" "Knave!" "Pudding!" "Donkey!" "Pudding!" "Baboon!" "Pudding!" On hearing himself called Pudding for the third time Geppetto, mad with rage, fell upon the carpenter and they fought desperately. When the battle was over, Master Antonio had two more scratches on his nose, and his adversary had lost two buttons off his waistcoat. Their accounts being thus squared, they shook hands and swore to remain good friends for the rest of their lives. Geppetto carried off his fine piece of wood and, thanking Master Antonio, returned limping to his house. [Illustration] CHAPTER III GEPPETTO NAMES HIS PUPPET PINOCCHIO Geppetto lived in a small ground-floor room that was only lighted from the staircase. The furniture could not have been simpler--a rickety chair, a poor bed, and a broken-down table. At the end of the room there was a fireplace with a lighted fire; but the fire was painted, and by the fire was a painted saucepan that was boiling cheerfully and sending out a cloud of smoke that looked exactly like real smoke. As soon as he reached home Geppetto took his tools and set to work to cut out and model his puppet. [Illustration: A Little Chicken Popped Out, Very Gay and Polite] "What name shall I give him?" he said to himself; "I think I will call him Pinocchio. It is a name that will bring him luck. I once knew a whole family so called. There was Pinocchio the father, Pinocchia the mother, and Pinocchi the children, and all of them did well. The richest of them was a beggar." Having found a name for his puppet he began to work in good earnest, and he first made his hair, then his forehead, and then his eyes. The eyes being finished, imagine his astonishment when he perceived that they moved and looked fixedly at him. Geppetto, seeing himself stared at by those two wooden eyes, said in an angry voice: "Wicked wooden eyes, why do you look at me?" No one answered. He then proceeded to carve the nose, but no sooner had he made it than it began to grow. And it grew, and grew, and grew, until in a few minutes it had become an immense nose that seemed as if it would never end. Poor Geppetto tired himself out with cutting it off, but the more he cut and shortened it, the longer did that impertinent nose become! The mouth was not even completed when it began to laugh and deride him. "Stop laughing!" said Geppetto, provoked; but he might as well have spoken to the wall. "Stop laughing, I say!" he roared in a threatening tone. The mouth then ceased laughing, but put out its tongue as far as it would go. Geppetto, not to spoil his handiwork, pretended not to see and continued his labors. After the mouth he fashioned the chin, then the throat, then the shoulders, the stomach, the arms and the hands. The hands were scarcely finished when Geppetto felt his wig snatched from his head. He turned round, and what did he see? He saw his yellow wig in the puppet's hand. "Pinocchio! Give me back my wig instantly!" But Pinocchio, instead of returning it, put it on his own head and was in consequence nearly smothered. Geppetto at this insolent and derisive behavior felt sadder and more melancholy than he had ever been in his life before; and, turning to Pinocchio, he said to him: "You young rascal! You are not yet completed and you are already beginning to show want of respect to your father! That is bad, my boy, very bad!" And he dried a tear. The legs and the feet remained to be done. When Geppetto had finished the feet he received a kick on the point of his nose. "I deserve it!" he said to himself; "I should have thought of it sooner! Now it is too late!" He then took the puppet under the arms and placed him on the floor to teach him to walk. Pinocchio's legs were stiff and he could not move, but Geppetto led him by the hand and showed him how to put one foot before the other. When his legs became limber Pinocchio began to walk by himself and to run about the room, until, having gone out of the house door, he jumped into the street and escaped. Poor Geppetto rushed after him but was not able to overtake him, for that rascal Pinocchio leaped in front of him like a hare and knocking his wooden feet together against the pavement made as much clatter as twenty pairs of peasants' clogs. "Stop him! stop him!" shouted Geppetto; but the people in the street, seeing a wooden puppet running like a race-horse, stood still in astonishment to look at it, and laughed and laughed. At last, as good luck would have it, a soldier arrived who, hearing the uproar, imagined that a colt had escaped from his master. Planting himself courageously with his legs apart in the middle of the road, he waited with the determined purpose of stopping him and thus preventing the chance of worse disasters. When Pinocchio, still at some distance, saw the soldier barricading the whole street, he endeavored to take him by surprise and to pass between his legs. But he failed entirely. The soldier without disturbing himself in the least caught him cleverly by the nose and gave him to Geppetto. Wishing to punish him, Geppetto intended to pull his ears at once. But imagine his feelings when he could not succeed in finding them. And do you know the reason? In his hurry to model him he had forgotten to make any ears. He then took him by the collar and as he was leading him away he said to him, shaking his head threateningly: "We will go home at once, and as soon as we arrive we will settle our accounts, never doubt it." At this information Pinocchio threw himself on the ground and would not take another step. In the meanwhile a crowd of idlers and inquisitive people began to assemble and to make a ring around them. Some of them said one thing, some another. "Poor puppet!" said several, "he is right not to wish to return home! Who knows how Geppetto, that bad old man, will beat him!" And the others added maliciously: "Geppetto seems a good man! but with boys he is a regular tyrant! If that poor puppet is left in his hands he is quite capable of tearing him in pieces!" It ended in so much being said and done that the soldier at last set Pinocchio at liberty and led Geppetto to prison. The poor man, not being ready with words to defend himself, cried like a calf and as he was being led away to prison sobbed out: "Wretched boy! And to think how I labored to make him a well-conducted puppet! But it serves me right! I should have thought of it sooner!" [Illustration] CHAPTER IV THE TALKING-CRICKET SCOLDS PINOCCHIO While poor Geppetto was being taken to prison for no fault of his, that imp Pinocchio, finding himself free from the clutches of the soldier, ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. That he might reach home the quicker he rushed across the fields, and in his mad hurry he jumped high banks, thorn hedges and ditches full of water. Arriving at the house he found the street door ajar. He pushed it open, went in, and having fastened the latch, threw himself on the floor and gave a great sigh of satisfaction. But soon he heard some one in the room who was saying: "Cri-cri-cri!" "Who calls me?" said Pinocchio in a fright. "It is I!" Pinocchio turned round and saw a big cricket crawling slowly up the wall. "Tell me, Cricket, who may you be?" "I am the Talking-Cricket, and I have lived in this room a hundred years or more." "Now, however, this room is mine," said the puppet, "and if you would do me a pleasure go away at once, without even turning round." "I will not go," answered the Cricket, "until I have told you a great truth." "Tell it me, then, and be quick about it." "Woe to those boys who rebel against their parents and run away from home. They will never come to any good in the world, and sooner or later they will repent bitterly." "Sing away, Cricket, as you please, and as long as you please. For me, I have made up my mind to run away tomorrow at daybreak, because if I remain I shall not escape the fate of all other boys; I shall be sent to school and shall be made to study either by love or by force. To tell you in confidence, I have no wish to learn; it is much more amusing to run after butterflies, or to climb trees and to take the young birds out of their nests." "Poor little goose! But do you not know that in that way you will grow up a perfect donkey, and that every one will make fun of you?" "Hold your tongue, you wicked, ill-omened croaker!" shouted Pinocchio. But the Cricket, who was patient and philosophical, instead of becoming angry at this impertinence, continued in the same tone: "But if you do not wish to go to school why not at least learn a trade, if only to enable you to earn honestly a piece of bread!" "Do you want me to tell you?" replied Pinocchio, who was beginning to lose patience. "Amongst all the trades in the world there is only one that really takes my fancy." "And that trade--what is it?" "It is to eat, drink, sleep and amuse myself, and to lead a vagabond life from morning to night." "As a rule," said the Talking-Cricket, "all those who follow that trade end almost always either in a hospital or in prison." "Take care, you wicked, ill-omened croaker! Woe to you if I fly into a passion!" "Poor Pinocchio! I really pity you!" "Why do you pity me?" "Because you are a puppet and, what is worse, because you have a wooden head." At these last words Pinocchio jumped up in a rage and, snatching a wooden hammer from the bench, he threw it at the Talking-Cricket. Perhaps he never meant to hit him, but unfortunately it struck him exactly on the head, so that the poor Cricket had scarcely breath to cry "Cri-cri-cri!" and then he remained dried up and flattened against the wall. [Illustration] CHAPTER V THE FLYING EGG Night was coming on and Pinocchio, remembering that he had eaten nothing all day, began to feel a gnawing in his stomach that very much resembled appetite. After a few minutes his appetite had become hunger and in no time his hunger became ravenous. Poor Pinocchio ran quickly to the fireplace, where a saucepan was boiling, and was going to take off the lid to see what was in it, but the saucepan was only painted on the wall. You can imagine his feelings. His nose, which was already long, became longer by at least three inches. He then began to run about the room, searching in the drawers and in every imaginable place, in hopes of finding a bit of bread. If it was only a bit of dry bread, a crust, a bone left by a dog, a little moldy pudding of Indian corn, a fish bone, a cherry stone--in fact, anything that he could gnaw. But he could find nothing, nothing at all, absolutely nothing. And in the meanwhile his hunger grew and grew. Poor Pinocchio had no other relief than yawning, and his yawns were so tremendous that sometimes his mouth almost reached his ears. And after he had yawned he spluttered and felt as if he were going to faint. Then he began to cry desperately, and he said: "The Talking-Cricket was right. I did wrong to rebel against my papa and to run away from home. If my papa were here I should not now be dying of yawning! Oh! what a dreadful illness hunger is!" Just then he thought he saw something in the dust-heap--something round and white that looked like a hen's egg. To give a spring and seize hold of it was the affair of a moment. It was indeed an egg. Pinocchio's joy was beyond description. Almost believing it must be a dream he kept turning the egg over in his hands, feeling it and kissing it. And as he kissed it he said: "And now, how shall I cook it? Shall I make an omelet? No, it would be better to cook it in a saucer! Or would it not be more savory to fry it in the frying-pan? Or shall I simply boil it? No, the quickest way of all is to cook it in a saucer: I am in such a hurry to eat it!" Without loss of time he placed an earthenware saucer on a brazier full of red-hot embers. Into the saucer instead of oil or butter he poured a little water; and when the water began to smoke, tac! he broke the egg-shell over it and let the contents drop in. But, instead of the white and the yolk a little chicken popped out very gay and polite. Making a beautiful courtesy it said to him: "A thousand thanks, Master Pinocchio, for saving me the trouble of breaking the shell. Adieu until we meet again. Keep well, and my best compliments to all at home!" Thus saying, it spread its wings, darted through the open window and, flying away, was lost to sight. The poor puppet stood as if he had been bewitched, with his eyes fixed, his mouth open, and the egg-shell in his hand. Recovering, however, from his first stupefaction, he began to cry and scream, and to stamp his feet on the floor in desperation, and amidst his sobs he said: "Ah, indeed, the Talking-Cricket was right. If I had not run away from home, and if my papa were here, I should not now be dying of hunger! Oh! what a dreadful illness hunger is!" And, as his stomach cried out more than ever and he did not know how to quiet it, he thought he would leave the house and make an excursion in the neighborhood in hopes of finding some charitable person who would give him a piece of bread. [Illustration] CHAPTER VI PINOCCHIO'S FEET BURN TO CINDERS It was a wild and stormy night. The thunder was tremendous and the lightning so vivid that the sky seemed on fire. Pinocchio had a great fear of thunder, but hunger was stronger than fear. He therefore closed the house door and made a rush for the village, which he reached in a hundred bounds, with his tongue hanging out and panting for breath like a dog after game. But he found it all dark and deserted. The shops were closed, the windows shut, and there was not so much as a dog in the street. It seemed the land of the dead. Pinocchio, urged by desperation and hunger, took hold of the bell of a house and began to ring it with all his might, saying to himself: "That will bring somebody." And so it did. A little old man appeared at a window with a night-cap on his head and called to him angrily: "What do you want at such an hour?" "Would you be kind enough to give me a little bread?" "Wait there, I will be back directly," said the little old man, thinking it was one of those rascally boys who amuse themselves at night by ringing the house-bells to rouse respectable people who are sleeping quietly. After half a minute the window was again opened and the voice of the same little old man shouted to Pinocchio: "Come underneath and hold out your cap." Pinocchio pulled off his cap; but, just as he held it out, an enormous basin of water was poured down on him, soaking him from head to foot as if he had been a pot of dried-up geraniums. He returned home like a wet chicken, quite exhausted with fatigue and hunger; and, having no longer strength to stand, he sat down and rested his damp and muddy feet on a brazier full of burning embers. And then he fell asleep, and whilst he slept his feet, which were wooden, took fire, and little by little they burnt away and became cinders. Pinocchio continued to sleep and to snore as if his feet belonged to some one else. At last about daybreak he awoke because some one was knocking at the door. "Who is there?" he asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "It is I!" answered a voice. And Pinocchio recognized Geppetto's voice. CHAPTER VII GEPPETTO GIVES HIS OWN BREAKFAST TO PINOCCHIO Poor Pinocchio, whose eyes were still half shut from sleep, had not as yet discovered that his feet were burnt off. The moment, therefore, that he heard his father's voice he slipped off his stool to run and open the door; but, after stumbling two or three times, he fell his whole length on the floor. And the noise he made in falling was as if a sack of wooden ladles had been thrown from a fifth story. "Open the door!" shouted Geppetto from the street. "Dear papa, I cannot," answered the puppet, crying and rolling about on the ground. "Why can't you?" "Because my feet have been eaten." "And who has eaten your feet?" "The cat," said Pinocchio, seeing the cat, who was amusing herself by making some shavings dance with her forepaws. "Open the door, I tell you!" repeated Geppetto. "If you don't, when I get into the house you shall have the cat from me!" "I cannot stand up, believe me. Oh, poor me! poor me! I shall have to walk on my knees for the rest of my life!" Geppetto, believing that all this lamentation was only another of the puppet's tricks, thought of a means of putting an end to it, and, climbing up the wall, he got in at the window. He was very angry and at first he did nothing but scold; but when he saw his Pinocchio lying on the ground and really without feet he was quite overcome. He took him in his arms and began to kiss and caress him, and to say a thousand endearing things to him, and as the big tears ran down his cheeks he said, sobbing: "My little Pinocchio! how did you manage to burn your feet?" "I don't know, papa, but it has been such a dreadful night that I shall remember it as long as I live. It thundered and lightened, and I was very hungry, and then the Talking-Cricket said to me: 'It serves you right; you have been wicked and you deserve it,' and I said to him: 'Take care, Cricket!' and he said: 'You are a puppet and you have a wooden head,' and I threw the handle of a hammer at him, and he died, but the fault was his, for I didn't wish to kill him, and the proof of it is that I put an earthenware saucer on a brazier of burning embers, but a chicken flew out and said: 'Adieu until we meet again, and many compliments to all at home': and I got still more hungry, for which reason that little old man in a night-cap, opening the window, said to me: 'Come underneath and hold out your hat,' and poured a basinful of water on my head, because asking for a little bread isn't a disgrace, is it? and I returned home at once, and because I was always very hungry I put my feet on the brazier to dry them, and then you returned, and I found they were burnt off, and I am always hungry, but I have no longer any feet! Oh! oh! oh! oh!" And poor Pinocchio began to cry and to roar so loudly that he was heard five miles off. Geppetto, who from all this jumbled account had only understood one thing, which was that the puppet was dying of hunger, drew from his pocket three pears and, giving them to him, said: "These three pears were intended for my breakfast, but I will give them to you willingly. Eat them, and I hope they will do you good." "If you wish me to eat them, be kind enough to peel them for me." "Peel them?" said Geppetto, astonished. "I should never have thought, my boy, that you were so dainty and fastidious. That is bad! In this world we should accustom ourselves from childhood to like and to eat everything, for there is no saying to what we may be brought. There are so many chances!" "You are no doubt right," interrupted Pinocchio, "but I will never eat fruit that has not been peeled. I cannot bear rind." So good Geppetto peeled the three pears and put the rind on a corner of the table. Having eaten the first pear in two mouthfuls, Pinocchio was about to throw away the core, but Geppetto caught hold of his arm and said to him: "Do not throw it away; in this world everything may be of use." "But core I am determined I will not eat," shouted the puppet, turning upon him like a viper. "Who knows! there are so many chances!" repeated Geppetto, without losing his temper. And so the three cores, instead of being thrown out of the window, were placed on the corner of the table, together with the three rinds. Having eaten, or rather having devoured the three pears, Pinocchio yawned tremendously, and then said in a fretful tone: "I am as hungry as ever!" "But, my boy, I have nothing more to give you!" "Nothing, really nothing?" "I have only the rind and the cores of the three pears." "One must have patience!" said Pinocchio; "if there is nothing else I will eat a rind." And he began to chew it. At first he made a wry face, but then one after another he quickly disposed of the rinds: and after the rinds even the cores, and when he had eaten up everything he clapped his hands on his sides in his satisfaction and said joyfully: "Ah! now I feel comfortable." "You see, now," observed Geppetto, "that I was right when I said to you that it did not do to accustom ourselves to be too particular or too dainty in our tastes. We can never know, my dear boy, what may happen to us. There are so many chances!" [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII GEPPETTO MAKES PINOCCHIO NEW FEET No sooner had the puppet satisfied his hunger than he began to cry and to grumble because he wanted a pair of new feet. But Geppetto, to punish him for his naughtiness, allowed him to cry and to despair for half the day. He then said to him: "Why should I make you new feet? To enable you, perhaps, to escape again from home?" "I promise you," said the puppet, sobbing, "that for the future I will be good." "All boys," replied Geppetto, "when they are bent upon obtaining something, say the same thing." "I promise you that I will go to school and that I will study and bring home a good report." "All boys, when they are bent on obtaining something, repeat the same story." "But I am not like other boys! I am better than all of them and I always speak the truth. I promise you, papa, that I will learn a trade and that I will be the consolation and the staff of your old age." Geppetto's eyes filled with tears and his heart was sad at seeing his poor Pinocchio in such a pitiable state. He did not say another word, but, taking his tools and two small pieces of well-seasoned wood, he set to work with great diligence. In less than an hour the feet were finished: two little feet--swift, well-knit and nervous. They might have been modelled by an artist of genius. Geppetto then said to the puppet: "Shut your eyes and go to sleep!" And Pinocchio shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. And whilst he pretended to sleep, Geppetto, with a little glue which he had melted in an egg-shell, fastened his feet in their place, and it was so well done that not even a trace could be seen of where they were joined. No sooner had the puppet discovered that he had feet than he jumped down from the table on which he was lying and began to spring and to cut a thousand capers about the room, as if he had gone mad with the greatness of his delight. "To reward you for what you have done for me," said Pinocchio to his father, "I will go to school at once." "Good boy." "But to go to school I shall want some clothes." Geppetto, who was poor and who had not so much as a penny in his pocket, then made him a little dress of flowered paper, a pair of shoes from the bark of a tree, and a cap of the crumb of bread. Pinocchio ran immediately to look at himself in a crock of water, and he was so pleased with his appearance that he said, strutting about like a peacock: "I look quite like a gentleman!" "Yes, indeed," answered Geppetto, "for bear in mind that it is not fine clothes that make the gentleman, but rather clean clothes." "By the bye," added the puppet, "to go to school I am still in want--indeed, I am without the best thing, and the most important." "And what is it?" "I have no spelling-book." "You are right: but what shall we do to get one?" "It is quite easy. We have only to go to the bookseller's and buy it." "And the money?" "I have got none." "Neither have I," added the good old man, very sadly. And Pinocchio, although he was a very merry boy, became sad also, because poverty, when it is real poverty, is understood by everybody--even by boys. "Well, patience!" exclaimed Geppetto, all at once rising to his feet, and putting on his old corduroy coat, all patched and darned, he ran out of the house. He returned shortly, holding in his hand a spelling-book for Pinocchio, but the old coat was gone. The poor man was in his shirt-sleeves and out of doors it was snowing. "And the coat, papa?" "I have sold it." "Why did you sell it?" "Because I found it too hot." Pinocchio understood this answer in an instant, and unable to restrain the impulse of his good heart he sprang up and, throwing his arms around Geppetto's neck, he began kissing him again and again. CHAPTER IX PINOCCHIO GOES TO SEE A PUPPET-SHOW As soon as it stopped snowing Pinocchio set out for school with his fine spelling-book under his arm. As he went along he began to imagine a thousand things in his little brain and to build a thousand castles in the air, one more beautiful than the other. And, talking to himself, he said: "Today at school I will learn to read at once; then tomorrow I will begin to write, and the day after tomorrow to figure. Then, with my acquirements, I will earn a great deal of money, and with the first money I have in my pocket I will immediately buy for my papa a beautiful new cloth coat. But what am I saying? Cloth, indeed! It shall be all made of gold and silver, and it shall have diamond buttons. That poor man really deserves it, for to buy me books and have me taught he has remained in his shirt-sleeves. And in this cold! It is only fathers who are capable of such sacrifices!" Whilst he was saying this with great emotion, he thought that he heard music in the distance that sounded like fifes and the beating of a big drum: Fi-fie-fi, fi-fi-fi; zum, zum, zum. He stopped and listened. The sounds came from the end of a cross street that led to a little village on the seashore. "What can that music be? What a pity that I have to go to school, or else--" And he remained irresolute. It was, however, necessary to come to a decision. Should he go to school? or should he go after the fifes? "Today I will go and hear the fifes, and tomorrow I will go to school," finally decided the young scapegrace, shrugging his shoulders. The more he ran the nearer came the sounds of the fifes and the beating of the big drum: Fi-fi-fi; zum, zum, zum, zum. At last he found himself in the middle of a square quite full of people, who were all crowded round a building made of wood and canvas, and painted a thousand colors. "What is that building?" asked Pinocchio, turning to a little boy who belonged to the place. "Read the placard--it is all written--and then you will know." "I would read it willingly, but it so happens that today I don't know how to read." "Bravo, blockhead! Then I will read it to you. The writing on that placard in those letters red as fire is: "THE GREAT PUPPET THEATER." "Has the play begun long?" "It is beginning now." "How much does it cost to go in?" "A dime." Pinocchio, who was in a fever of curiosity, lost all control of himself, and without any shame he said to the little boy to whom he was talking: "Would you lend me a dime until tomorrow?" "I would lend it to you willingly," said the other, "but it so happens that today I cannot give it to you." "I will sell you my jacket for a dime," the puppet then said to him. "What do you think that I could do with a jacket of flowered paper? If there were rain and it got wet, it would be impossible to get it off my back." "Will you buy my shoes?" "They would only be of use to light the fire." "How much will you give me for my cap?" "That would be a wonderful acquisition indeed! A cap of bread crumb! There would be a risk of the mice coming to eat it whilst it was on my head." Pinocchio was on thorns. He was on the point of making another offer, but he had not the courage. He hesitated, felt irresolute and remorseful. At last he said: "Will you give me a dime for this new spelling-book?" "I am a boy and I don't buy from boys," replied his little interlocutor, who had much more sense than he had. "I will buy the spelling-book for a dime," called out a hawker of old clothes, who had been listening to the conversation. And the book was sold there and then. And to think that poor Geppetto had remained at home trembling with cold in his shirt-sleeves in order that his son should have a spelling-book. CHAPTER X THE PUPPETS RECOGNIZE THEIR BROTHER PINOCCHIO When Pinocchio came into the little puppet theater, an incident occurred that almost produced a revolution. The curtain had gone up and the play had already begun. On the stage Harlequin and Punch were as usual quarrelling with each other and threatening every moment to come to blows. All at once Harlequin stopped short and, turning to the public, he pointed with his hand to some one far down in the pit and exclaimed in a dramatic tone: "Gods of the firmament! Do I dream or am I awake? But surely that is Pinocchio!" "It is indeed Pinocchio!" cried Punch. "It is indeed himself!" screamed Miss Rose, peeping from behind the scenes. "It is Pinocchio! it is Pinocchio!" shouted all the puppets in chorus, leaping from all sides on to the stage. "It is Pinocchio! It is our brother Pinocchio! Long live Pinocchio!" "Pinocchio, come up here to me," cried Harlequin, "and throw yourself into the arms of your wooden brothers!" At this affectionate invitation Pinocchio made a leap from the end of the pit into the reserved seats; another leap landed him on the head of the leader of the orchestra, and he then sprang upon the stage. The embraces, the friendly pinches, and the demonstrations of warm brotherly affection that Pinocchio received from the excited crowd of actors and actresses of the puppet dramatic company are beyond description. The sight was doubtless a moving one, but the public in the pit, finding that the play was stopped, became impatient and began to shout: "We will have the play--go on with the play!" It was all breath thrown away. The puppets, instead of continuing the recital, redoubled their noise and outcries, and, putting Pinocchio on their shoulders, they carried him in triumph before the footlights. At that moment out came the showman. He was very big, and so ugly that the sight of him was enough to frighten anyone. His beard was as black as ink, and so long that it reached from his chin to the ground. I need only say that he trod upon it when he walked. His mouth was as big as an oven, and his eyes were like two lanterns of red glass with lights burning inside them. He carried a large whip made of snakes and foxes' tails twisted together, which he cracked constantly. At his unexpected appearance there was a profound silence: no one dared to breathe. A fly might have been heard in the stillness. The poor puppets of both sexes trembled like so many leaves. "Why have you come to raise a disturbance in my theater?" asked the showman of Pinocchio, in the gruff voice of a hobgoblin suffering from a severe cold in the head. "Believe me, honored sir, it was not my fault!" "That is enough! Tonight we will settle our accounts." As soon as the play was over the showman went into the kitchen, where a fine sheep, preparing for his supper, was turning slowly on the spit in front of the fire. As there was not enough wood to finish roasting and browning it, he called Harlequin and Punch, and said to them: "Bring that puppet here: you will find him hanging on a nail. It seems to me that he is made of very dry wood and I am sure that if he were thrown on the fire he would make a beautiful blaze for the roast." At first Harlequin and Punch hesitated; but, appalled by a severe glance from their master, they obeyed. In a short time they returned to the kitchen carrying poor Pinocchio, who was wriggling like an eel taken out of water and screaming desperately: "Papa! papa! save me! I will not die, I will not die!" [Illustration] CHAPTER XI FIRE-EATER SNEEZES AND PARDONS PINOCCHIO The showman, Fire-Eater--for that was his name--looked like a wicked man, especially with his black beard that covered his chest and legs like an apron. On the whole, however, he had not a bad heart. In proof of this, when he saw poor Pinocchio brought before him, struggling and screaming "I will not die, I will not die!" he was quite moved and felt very sorry for him. He tried to hold out, but after a little he could stand it no longer and he sneezed violently. When he heard the sneeze, Harlequin, who up to that moment had been in the deepest affliction and bowed down like a weeping willow, became quite cheerful and, leaning towards Pinocchio, he whispered to him softly: "Good news, brother. The showman has sneezed and that is a sign that he pities you, and consequently you are saved." Most men, when they feel compassion for somebody, either weep or at least pretend to dry their eyes. Fire-Eater, on the contrary, whenever he was really overcome, had the habit of sneezing. After he had sneezed, the showman, still acting the ruffian, shouted to Pinocchio: "Have done crying! Your lamentations have given me a pain in my stomach. I feel a spasm that almost--Etchoo! etchoo!" and he sneezed again twice. "Bless you!" said Pinocchio. "Thank you! And your papa and your mamma, are they still alive?" asked Fire-Eater. "Papa, yes; my mamma I have never known." "Who can say what a sorrow it would be for your poor old father if I were to have you thrown amongst those burning coals! Poor old man! I pity him! Etchoo! etchoo! etchoo!" and he sneezed again three times. "Bless you" said Pinocchio. "Thank you! All the same, some compassion is due to me, for as you see I have no more wood with which to finish roasting my mutton, and, to tell you the truth, under the circumstances you would have been of great use to me! However, I have had pity on you, so I must have patience. Instead of you I will burn under the spit one of the puppets belonging to my company. Ho there, gendarmes!" At this call two wooden gendarmes immediately appeared. They were very long and very thin, and had on cocked hats, and held unsheathed swords in their hands. The showman said to them in a hoarse voice: "Take Harlequin, bind him securely, and then throw him on the fire to burn. I am determined that my mutton shall be well roasted." Only imagine that poor Harlequin! His terror was so great that his legs bent under him, and he fell with his face on the ground. At this agonizing sight Pinocchio, weeping bitterly, threw himself at the showman's feet and, bathing his long beard with his tears, he began to say, in a supplicating voice: "Have pity, Sir Fire-Eater!" "Here there are no sirs," the showman answered severely. "Have pity, Sir Knight!" "Here there are no knights!" "Have pity, Commander!" "Here there are no commanders!" "Have pity, Excellence!" Upon hearing himself called Excellence the showman began to smile and became at once kinder and more tractable. Turning to Pinocchio, he asked: "Well, what do you want from me?" "I implore you to pardon poor Harlequin." "For him there can be no pardon. As I have spared you he must be put on the fire, for I am determined that my mutton shall be well roasted." "In that case," cried Pinocchio proudly, rising and throwing away his cap of bread crumb--"in that case I know my duty. Come on, gendarmes! Bind me and throw me amongst the flames. No, it is not just that poor Harlequin, my true friend, should die for me!" These words, pronounced in a loud, heroic voice, made all the puppets who were present cry. Even the gendarmes, although they were made of wood, wept like two newly born lambs. Fire-Eater at first remained as hard and unmoved as ice, but little by little he began to melt and to sneeze. And, having sneezed four or five times, he opened his arms affectionately and said to Pinocchio: "You are a good, brave boy! Come here and give me a kiss." Pinocchio ran at once and, climbing like a squirrel up the showman's beard, he deposited a hearty kiss on the point of his nose. "Then the pardon is granted?" asked poor Harlequin in a faint voice that was scarcely audible. "The pardon is granted!" answered Fire-Eater; he then added, sighing and shaking his head: "I must have patience! Tonight I shall have to resign myself to eat the mutton half raw; but another time, woe to him who displeases me!" At the news of the pardon the puppets all ran to the stage and, having lighted the lamps and chandeliers as if for a full-dress performance, they began to leap and to dance merrily. At dawn they were still dancing. [Illustration] CHAPTER XII PINOCCHIO RECEIVES A PRESENT OF FIVE GOLD PIECES The following day Fire-Eater called Pinocchio to one side and asked him: "What is your father's name?" "Geppetto." "And what trade does he follow?" "He is a beggar." "Does he gain much?" "Gain much? Why, he has never a penny in his pocket. Only think, in order to buy a spelling-book so that I could go to school he was obliged to sell the only coat he had to wear--a coat that, between patches and darns, was not fit to be seen." "Poor devil! I feel almost sorry for him! Here are five gold pieces. Go at once and take them to him with my compliments." Pinocchio was overjoyed and thanked the showman a thousand times. He embraced all the puppets of the company one by one, even to the gendarmes, and set out to return home. But he had not gone far when he met on the road a Fox lame of one foot, and a Cat blind of both eyes, and they were going along helping each other like good companions in misfortune. The Fox, who was lame, walked leaning on the Cat; and the Cat, who was blind, was guided by the Fox. "Good-day, Pinocchio," said the Fox, greeting him politely. "How do you come to know my name?" asked the puppet. "I know your father well." "Where did you see him?" "I saw him yesterday at the door of his house." "And what was he doing?" "He was in his shirt-sleeves and shivering with cold." "Poor papa! But that is over; for the future he shall shiver no more!" "Why?" "Because I have become a gentleman." "A gentleman--you!" said the Fox, and he began to laugh rudely and scornfully. The Cat also began to laugh, but to conceal it she combed her whiskers with her forepaws. [Illustration: Splash! Splash! They fell Into the Very Middle of the Ditch] "There is little to laugh at," cried Pinocchio angrily. "I am really sorry to make your mouth water, but if you know anything about it, you can see that these are five gold pieces." And he pulled out the money that Fire-Eater had given him. At the jingling of the money the Fox, with an involuntary movement, stretched out the paw that seemed crippled, and the Cat opened wide two eyes that looked like two green lanterns. It is true that she shut them again, and so quickly that Pinocchio observed nothing. "And now," asked the Fox, "what are you going to do with all that money?" "First of all," answered the puppet, "I intend to buy a new coat for my papa, made of gold and silver, and with diamond buttons; and then I will buy a spelling-book for myself." "For yourself?" "Yes indeed, for I wish to go to school to study in earnest." "Look at me!" said the Fox. "Through my foolish passion for study I have lost a leg." "Look at me!" said the Cat. "Through my foolish passion for study I have lost the sight of both my eyes." At that moment a white Blackbird, that was perched on the hedge by the road, began his usual song, and said: "Pinocchio, don't listen to the advice of bad companions; if you do you will repent it!" Poor Blackbird! If only he had not spoken! The Cat, with a great leap, sprang upon him, and without even giving him time to say "Oh!" ate him in a mouthful, feathers and all. Having eaten him and cleaned her mouth she shut her eyes again and feigned blindness as before. "Poor Blackbird!" said Pinocchio to the Cat, "why did you treat him so badly?" "I did it to give him a lesson. He will learn another time not to meddle in other people's conversation." They had gone almost half-way when the Fox, halting suddenly, said to the puppet: "Would you like to double your money?" "In what way?" "Would you like to make out of your five miserable sovereigns, a hundred, a thousand, two thousand?" "I should think so! but in what way?" "The way is easy enough. Instead of returning home you must go with us." "And where do you wish to take me?" "To the land of the Owls." Pinocchio reflected a moment, and then he said resolutely: "No, I will not go. I am already close to the house, and I will return home to my papa, who is waiting for me. Who can tell how often the poor old man must have sighed yesterday when I did not come back! I have indeed been a bad son, and the Talking-Cricket was right when he said: 'Disobedient boys never come to any good in the world.' I have found it to be true, for many misfortunes have happened to me. Even yesterday in Fire-Eater's house I ran the risk--Oh! it makes me shudder only to think of it!" "Well, then," said the Fox, "you are quite decided to go home? Go, then, and so much the worse for you." "So much the worse for you!" repeated the Cat. "Think well of it, Pinocchio, for you are giving a kick to fortune." "To fortune!" repeated the Cat. "Between today and tomorrow your five sovereigns would have become two thousand." "Two thousand!" repeated the Cat. "But how is it possible that they could become so many?" asked Pinocchio, remaining with his mouth open from astonishment. "I will explain it to you at once," said the Fox. "You must know that in the land of the Owls there is a sacred field called by everybody the Field of Miracles. In this field you must dig a little hole, and you put into it, we will say, one gold sovereign. You then cover up the hole with a little earth; you must water it with two pails of water from the fountain, then sprinkle it with two pinches of salt, and when night comes you can go quietly to bed. In the meanwhile, during the night, the gold piece will grow and flower, and in the morning when you get up and return to the field, what do you find? You find a beautiful tree laden with as many gold sovereigns as a fine ear of corn has grains in the month of June." "So that," said Pinocchio, more and more bewildered, "supposing I buried my five sovereigns in that field, how many should I find there the following morning?" "That is an exceedingly easy calculation," replied the Fox, "a calculation that you can make on the ends of your fingers. Every sovereign will give you an increase of five hundred; multiply five hundred by five, and the following morning will find you with two thousand five hundred shining gold pieces in your pocket." "Oh! how delightful!" cried Pinocchio, dancing for joy. "As soon as ever I have obtained those sovereigns, I will keep two thousand for myself and the other five hundred I will make a present of to you two." "A present to us?" cried the Fox with indignation and appearing much offended. "What are you dreaming of?" "What are you dreaming of?" repeated the Cat. "We do not work," said the Fox, "for interest: we work solely to enrich others." "Others!" repeated the Cat. "What good people!" thought Pinocchio to himself, and, forgetting there and then his papa, the new coat, the spelling-book, and all his good resolutions, he said to the Fox and the Cat: "Let us be off at once. I will go with you." [Illustration: A LITTLE CHICKEN POPPED OUT, VERY GAY AND POLITE] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII THE INN OF THE RED CRAW-FISH They walked, and walked, and walked, until at last, towards evening, they arrived, all tired out, at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish. "Let us stop here a little," said the Fox, "that we may have something to eat, and rest ourselves for an hour or two. We will start again at midnight, so as to arrive at the Field of Miracles by dawn tomorrow morning." Having gone into the inn they all three sat down to table, but none of them had any appetite. The Cat, who was suffering from indigestion and feeling seriously indisposed, could only eat thirty-five fish with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe with Parmesan cheese; and because she thought the tripe was not seasoned enough, she asked three times for the butter and grated cheese! The Fox would also willingly have picked a little, but as his doctor had ordered him a strict diet, he was forced to content himself simply with a hare dressed with a sweet and sour sauce, and garnished lightly with fat chickens and early pullets. After the hare he sent for a made dish of partridges, rabbits, frogs, lizards and other delicacies; he could not touch anything else. He cared so little for food, he said, that he could put nothing to his lips. The one who ate the least was Pinocchio. He asked for some walnuts and a hunch of bread, and left everything on his plate. The poor boy's thoughts were continually fixed on the Field of Miracles. When they had supped, the Fox said to the host: "Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio, and the other for me and my companion. We will snatch a little sleep before we leave. Remember, however, that at midnight we wish to be called to continue our journey." "Yes, gentlemen," answered the host, and he winked at the Fox and the Cat, as much as to say: "I know what you are up to. We understand one another!" No sooner had Pinocchio got into bed than he fell asleep at once and began to dream. And he dreamed that he was in the middle of a field, and the field was full of shrubs covered with clusters of gold sovereigns, and as they swung in the wind they went zin, zin, zin, almost as if they would say: "Let who will, come and take us." But just as Pinocchio was stretching out his hand to pick handfuls of those beautiful gold pieces and to put them in his pocket, he was suddenly awakened by three violent blows on the door of his room. It was the host who had come to tell him that midnight had struck. "Are my companions ready?" asked the puppet. "Ready! Why, they left two hours ago." "Why were they in such a hurry?" "Because the Cat had received a message to say that her eldest kitten was ill with chilblains on his feet and was in danger of death." "Did they pay for the supper?" "What are you thinking of? They are too well educated to dream of offering such an insult to a gentleman like you." "What a pity! It is an insult that would have given me so much pleasure!" said Pinocchio, scratching his head. He then asked: "And where did my good friends say they would wait for me?" "At the Field of Miracles, tomorrow morning at daybreak." Pinocchio paid a sovereign for his supper and that of his companions, and then left. Outside the inn it was so pitch dark that he had almost to grope his way, for it was impossible to see a hand's breadth in front of him. Some night-birds flying across the road from one hedge to the other brushed Pinocchio's nose with their wings as they passed, which caused him so much terror that, springing back, he shouted: "Who goes there?" and the echo in the surrounding hills repeated in the distance: "Who goes there? Who goes there?" As he was walking along he saw a little insect shining dimly on the trunk of a tree, like a night-light in a lamp of transparent china. "Who are you?" asked Pinocchio. "I am the ghost of the Talking-Cricket," answered the insect in a low voice, so weak and faint that it seemed to come from the other world. "What do you want with me?" said the puppet. "I want to give you some advice. Go back and take the four sovereigns that you have left to your poor father, who is weeping and in despair because you have not returned to him." "By tomorrow my papa will be a gentleman, for these four sovereigns will have become two thousand." "Don't trust to those who promise to make you rich in a day. Usually they are either mad or rogues! Give ear to me, and go back, my boy." "On the contrary, I am determined to go on." "The hour is late!" "I am determined to go on." "The night is dark!" "I am determined to go on." "The road is dangerous!" "I am determined to go on." "Remember that boys who are bent on following their caprices, and will have their own way, sooner or later repent it." "Always the same stories. Good-night, Cricket." "Good-night, Pinocchio, and may Heaven preserve you from dangers and from assassins." No sooner had he said these words than the Talking-Cricket vanished suddenly like a light that has been blown out, and the road became darker than ever. [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV PINOCCHIO FALLS AMONGST ASSASSINS "Really," said the puppet to himself, as he resumed his journey, "how unfortunate we poor boys are. Everybody scolds us and gives us good advice. See now; because I don't choose to listen to that tiresome Cricket, who knows, according to him, how many misfortunes are to happen to me! I am even to meet with assassins! That is, however, of little consequence, for I don't believe in assassins--I have never believed in them. For me, I think that assassins have been invented purposely by papas to frighten boys who want to go out at night. Besides, supposing I was to come across them here in the road, do you imagine they would frighten me? Not the least in the world. I should go to meet them and cry: 'Gentlemen assassins, what do you want with me? Remember that with me there is no joking. Therefore go about your business and be quiet!' At this speech they would run away like the wind. If, however, they were so badly educated as not to run away, why, then I would run away myself and there would be an end of it." But Pinocchio had not time to finish his reasoning, for at that moment he thought that he heard a slight rustle of leaves behind him. He turned to look and saw in the gloom two evil-looking black figures completely enveloped in charcoal sacks. They were running after him on tiptoe and making great leaps like two phantoms. "Here they are in reality!" he said to himself and, not knowing where to hide his gold pieces, he put them in his mouth precisely under his tongue. Then he tried to escape. But he had not gone a step when he felt himself seized by the arm and heard two horrid, sepulchral voices saying to him: "Your money or your life!" Pinocchio, not being able to answer in words, owing to the money that was in his mouth, made a thousand low bows and a thousand pantomimes. He tried thus to make the two muffled figures, whose eyes were only visible through the holes in their sacks, understand that he was a poor puppet, and that he had not as much as a counterfeit nickel in his pocket. "Come, now! Less nonsense and out with the money!" cried the two brigands threateningly. And the puppet made a gesture with his hands to signify: "I have none." "Deliver up your money or you are dead," said the tallest of the brigands. "Dead!" repeated the other. "And after we have killed you, we will also kill your father!" "Also your father!" "No, no, no, not my poor papa!" cried Pinocchio in a despairing voice, and as he said it the sovereigns clinked in his mouth. "Ah! you rascal! Then you have hidden your money under your tongue! Spit it out at once!" Pinocchio was obstinate. "Ah! you pretend to be deaf, do you? Wait a moment, leave it to us to find a means to make you give it up." And one of them seized the puppet by the end of his nose, and the other took him by the chin, and began to pull them brutally, the one up and the other down, to force him to open his mouth. But it was all to no purpose. Pinocchio's mouth seemed to be nailed and riveted together. Then the shorter assassin drew out an ugly knife and tried to put it between his lips like a lever or chisel. But Pinocchio, as quick as lightning, caught his hand with his teeth, and with one bite bit it clear off and spat it out. Imagine his astonishment when instead of a hand he perceived that a cat's paw lay on the ground. Encouraged by this first victory he used his nails to such purpose that he succeeded in liberating himself from his assailants, and, jumping the hedge by the roadside, he began to fly across the country. The assassins ran after him like two dogs chasing a hare, and the one who had lost a paw ran on one leg, and no one ever knew how he managed it. After a race of some miles Pinocchio could go no more. Giving himself up for lost, he climbed the trunk of a very high pine tree and seated himself in the topmost branches. The assassins attempted to climb after him, but when they had reached half-way up they slid down again and arrived on the ground with the skin grazed from their hands and knees. But they were not to be beaten by so little; collecting a quantity of dry wood, they piled it beneath the pine and set fire to it. In less time than it takes to tell, the pine began to burn and to flame like a candle blown by the wind. Pinocchio, seeing that the flames were mounting higher every instant, and not wishing to end his life like a roasted pigeon, made a stupendous leap from the top of the tree and started afresh across the fields and vineyards. The assassins followed him, and kept behind him without once giving up. The day began to break and they were still pursuing him. Suddenly Pinocchio found his way barred by a wide, deep ditch full of stagnant water the color of coffee. What was he to do? "One! two! three!" cried the puppet, and, making a rush, he sprang to the other side. The assassins also jumped, but not having measured the distance properly--splash! splash! they fell into the very middle of the ditch. Pinocchio, who heard the plunge and the splashing of the water, shouted out, laughing, and without stopping: "A fine bath to you, gentleman assassins." And he felt convinced that they were drowned, when, turning to look, he perceived that, on the contrary, they were both running after him, still enveloped in their sacks, with the water dripping from them as if they had been two hollow baskets. [Illustration] CHAPTER XV THE ASSASSINS HANG PINOCCHIO TO THE BIG OAK At this sight the puppet's courage failed him and he was on the point of throwing himself on the ground and giving himself over for lost. Turning, however, his eyes in every direction, he saw, at some distance, a small house as white as snow. "If only I had breath to reach that house," he said to himself, "perhaps I should be saved." And, without delaying an instant, he recommenced running for his life through the wood, and the assassins after him. At last, after a desperate race of nearly two hours, he arrived quite breathless at the door of the house, and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again with great violence, for he heard the sound of steps approaching him and the heavy panting of his persecutors. The same silence. Seeing that knocking was useless, he began in desperation to kick and pommel the door with all his might. The window then opened and a beautiful Child appeared at it. She had blue hair and a face as white as a waxen image; her eyes were closed and her hands were crossed on her breast. Without moving her lips in the least, she said, in a voice that seemed to come from the other world: "In this house there is no one. They are all dead." "Then at least open the door for me yourself," shouted Pinocchio, crying and imploring. "I am dead also." "Dead? Then what are you doing there at the window?" "I am waiting for the bier to come to carry me away." Having said this she immediately disappeared and the window was closed again without the slightest noise. "Oh! beautiful Child with blue hair," cried Pinocchio, "open the door, for pity's sake! Have compassion on a poor boy pursued by assas--" But he could not finish the word, for he felt himself seized by the collar and the same two horrible voices said to him threateningly: "You shall not escape from us again!" The puppet, seeing death staring him in the face, was taken with such a violent fit of trembling that the joints of his wooden legs began to creak, and the sovereigns hidden under his tongue to clink. "Now, then," demanded the assassins, "will you open your mouth--yes or no? Ah! no answer? Leave it to us: this time we will force you to open it!" And, drawing out two long, horrid knives as sharp as razors, clash!--they attempted to stab him twice. But the puppet, luckily for him, was made of very hard wood; the knives therefore broke into a thousand pieces and the assassins were left with the handles in their hands, staring at each other. "I see what we must do," said one of them. "He must be hung! let us hang him!" "Let us hang him!" repeated the other. Without loss of time they tied his arms behind him, passed a running noose round his throat, and hung him to the branch of a tree called the Big Oak. They then sat down on the grass and waited for his last struggle. But at the end of three hours the puppet's eyes were still open, his mouth closed, and he was kicking more than ever. Losing patience, they turned to Pinocchio and said in a bantering tone: "Good-bye till tomorrow. Let us hope that when we return you will be polite enough to allow yourself to be found quite dead, and with your mouth wide open." And they walked off. In the meantime a tempestuous northerly wind began to blow and roar angrily, and it beat the poor puppet from side to side, making him swing violently, like the clatter of a bell ringing for a wedding. And the swinging gave him atrocious spasms, and the running noose, becoming still tighter round his throat, took away his breath. Little by little his eyes began to grow dim, but although he felt that death was near he still continued to hope that some charitable person would come to his assistance before it was too late. But when, after waiting and waiting, he found that no one came, absolutely no one, then he remembered his poor father, and, thinking he was dying, he stammered out: "Oh, papa! papa! if only you were here!" [Illustration: Four Rabbits as Black as Ink Entered Carrying a Little Bier] His breath failed him and he could say no more. He shut his eyes, opened his mouth, stretched his legs, gave a long shudder, and hung stiff and insensible. [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI THE BEAUTIFUL CHILD RESCUES THE PUPPET While poor Pinocchio, suspended to a branch of the Big Oak, was apparently more dead than alive, the beautiful Child with blue hair came again to the window. When she saw the unhappy puppet hanging by his throat, and dancing up and down in the gusts of the north wind, she was moved by compassion. Striking her hands together, she gave three little claps. At this signal there came a sound of the sweep of wings flying rapidly and a large Falcon flew on to the window-sill. "What are your orders, gracious Fairy?" he asked, inclining his beak in sign of reverence. "Do you see that puppet dangling from a branch of the Big Oak?" "I see him." "Very well. Fly there at once: with your strong beak break the knot that keeps him suspended in the air, and lay him gently on the grass at the foot of the tree." The Falcon flew away and after two minutes he returned, saying: "I have done as you commanded." "And how did you find him?" "To see him he appeared dead, but he cannot really be quite dead, for I had no sooner loosened the running noose that tightened his throat than, giving a sigh, he muttered in a faint voice: 'Now I feel better!'" The Fairy then struck her hands together twice and a magnificent Poodle appeared, walking upright on his hind legs exactly as if he had been a man. He was in the full-dress livery of a coachman. On his head he had a three-cornered cap braided with gold, his curly white wig came down on to his shoulders, he had a chocolate-colored waistcoat with diamond buttons, and two large pockets to contain the bones that his mistress gave him at dinner. He had, besides, a pair of short crimson velvet breeches, silk stockings, cut-down shoes, and hanging behind him a species of umbrella case made of blue satin, to put his tail into when the weather was rainy. "Be quick, Medoro, like a good dog!" said the Fairy to the Poodle. "Have the most beautiful carriage in my coach-house harnessed, and take the road to the wood. When you come to the Big Oak you will find a poor puppet stretched on the grass half dead. Pick him up gently and lay him flat on the cushions of the carriage and bring him here to me. Do you understand?" The Poodle, to show that he had understood, shook the case of blue satin three or four times and ran off like a race-horse. Shortly afterwards a beautiful little carriage came out of the coach-house. The cushions were stuffed with canary feathers and it was lined on the inside with whipped cream, custard and vanilla wafers. The little carriage was drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle, seated on the coach-box, cracked his whip from side to side like a driver when he is afraid that he is behind time. Scarcely had a quarter of an hour passed, when the carriage returned. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, took the poor puppet in her arms and carried him into a little room that was wainscoted with mother-of-pearl. She sent at once to summon the most famous doctors in the neighborhood. They came immediately, one after the other: namely, a Crow, an Owl, and a Talking-Cricket. "I wish to know from you, gentlemen," said the Fairy, "if this unfortunate puppet is alive or dead!" At this request the Crow, advancing first, felt Pinocchio's pulse; he then felt his nose and then the little toe of his foot: and, having done this carefully, he pronounced solemnly the following words: "To my belief the puppet is already quite dead; but, if unfortunately he should not be dead, then it would be a sign that he is still alive!" "I regret," said the Owl, "to be obliged to contradict the Crow, my illustrious friend and colleague; but, in my opinion the puppet is still alive; but, if unfortunately he should not be alive, then it would be a sign that he is dead indeed!" "And you--have you nothing to say?" asked the Fairy of the Talking-Cricket. "In my opinion, the wisest thing a prudent doctor can do, when he does not know what he is talking about, is to be silent. For the rest, that puppet there has a face that is not new to me. I have known him for some time!" Pinocchio, who up to that moment had lain immovable, like a real piece of wood, was seized with a fit of convulsive trembling that shook the whole bed. "That puppet there," continued the Talking-Cricket, "is a confirmed rogue." Pinocchio opened his eyes, but shut them again immediately. "He is a ragamuffin, a do-nothing, a vagabond." Pinocchio hid his face beneath the clothes. "That puppet there is a disobedient son who will make his poor father die of a broken heart!" At that instant a suffocated sound of sobs and crying was heard in the room. Imagine everybody's astonishment when, having raised the sheets a little, it was discovered that the sounds came from Pinocchio. "When a dead person cries, it is a sign that he is on the road to get well," said the Crow solemnly. "I grieve to contradict my illustrious friend and colleague," added the Owl; "but for me, when the dead person cries, it is a sign that he is sorry to die." [Illustration] CHAPTER XVII PINOCCHIO WILL NOT TAKE HIS MEDICINE As soon as the three doctors had left the room the Fairy approached Pinocchio and, having touched his forehead, she perceived that he was in a high fever. She therefore dissolved a certain white powder in half a tumbler of water and, offering it to the puppet, she said to him lovingly: "Drink it and in a few days you will be cured." Pinocchio looked at the tumbler, made a wry face, and then asked in a plaintive voice: "Is it sweet or bitter?" "It is bitter, but it will do you good." "If it is bitter, I will not take it." "Listen to me: drink it." "I don't like anything bitter." "Drink it, and when you have drunk it I will give you a lump of sugar to take away the taste." "Where is the lump of sugar?" "Here it is," said the Fairy, taking a piece from a gold sugar-basin. "Give me first the lump of sugar and then I will drink that bad bitter water." "Do you promise me?" "Yes." The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, having crunched it up and swallowed it in a second, said, licking his lips: "It would be a fine thing if sugar were medicine! I would take it every day." "Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water, which will restore you to health." Pinocchio took the tumbler unwillingly in his hand and put the point of his nose to it: he then approached it to his lips: he then again put his nose to it, and at last said: "It is too bitter! too bitter! I cannot drink it." "How can you tell that, when you have not even tasted it?" "I can imagine it! I know it from the smell. I want first another lump of sugar and then I will drink it!" The Fairy then, with all the patience of a good mamma, put another lump of sugar in his mouth, and again presented the tumbler to him. "I cannot drink it so!" said the puppet, making a thousand grimaces. "Why?" "Because that pillow that is down there on my feet bothers me." The Fairy removed the pillow. "It is useless. Even so I cannot drink it." "What is the matter now?" "The door of the room, which is half open, bothers me." The Fairy went and closed the door. "In short," cried Pinocchio, bursting into tears, "I will not drink that bitter water--no, no, no!" "My boy, you will repent it." "I don't care." "Your illness is serious." "I don't care." "The fever in a few hours will carry you into the other world." "I don't care." "Are you not afraid of death?" "I am not in the least afraid! I would rather die than drink that bitter medicine." At that moment the door of the room flew open and four rabbits as black as ink entered carrying on their shoulders a little bier. "What do you want with me?" cried Pinocchio, sitting up in bed in a great fright. "We have come to take you," said the biggest rabbit. "To take me? But I am not yet dead!" "No, not yet? but you have only a few minutes to live, as you have refused the medicine that would have cured you of the fever." "Oh, Fairy, Fairy!" the puppet then began to scream, "give me the tumbler at once; be quick, for pity's sake, for I will not die--no, I will not die." And, taking the tumbler in both hands, he emptied it at a gulp. "We must have patience!" said the rabbits; "this time we have made our journey in vain." And, taking the little bier again on their shoulders, they left the room, grumbling and murmuring between their teeth. In fact, a few minutes afterwards, Pinocchio jumped down from the bed quite well, because wooden puppets have the privilege of being seldom ill and of being cured very quickly. The Fairy, seeing him running and rushing about the room as gay and as lively as a young cock, said to him: "Then my medicine has really done you good?" "Good? I should think so! It has restored me to life!" "Then why on earth did you require so much persuasion to take it?" "Because you see that we boys are all like that! We are more afraid of medicine than of the illness." "Disgraceful! Boys ought to know that a good remedy taken in time may save them from a serious illness, and perhaps even from death." "Oh! but another time I shall not require so much persuasion. I shall remember those black rabbits with the bier on their shoulders and then I shall immediately take the tumbler in my hand, and down it will go!" "Now, come here to me and tell me how it came about that you fell into the hands of those assassins." "You see, the showman, Fire-Eater, gave me some gold pieces and said to me: 'Go, and take them to your father!' and instead I met on the road a Fox and a Cat, who said to me: 'Would you like those pieces of gold to become a thousand or two? Come with us and we will take you to the Field of Miracles,' and I said: 'Let us go.' And they said: 'Let us stop at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish,' and after midnight they left. And when I awoke I found that they were no longer there, because they had gone away. Then I began to travel by night, for you cannot imagine how dark it was; and on that account I met on the road two assassins in charcoal sacks who said to me: 'Out with your money,' and I said to them: 'I have got none,' because I had hidden the four gold pieces in my mouth, and one of the assassins tried to put his hand in my mouth, and I bit his hand off and spat it out, but instead of a hand it was a cat's paw. And the assassins ran after me, and I ran, and ran, until at last they caught me and tied me by the neck to a tree in this wood, and said to me: 'Tomorrow we shall return here and then you will be dead with your mouth open and we shall be able to carry off the pieces of gold that you have hidden under your tongue." "And the four pieces--where have you put them?" asked the Fairy. "I have lost them!" said Pinocchio, but he was telling a lie, for he had them in his pocket. He had scarcely told the lie when his nose, which was already long, grew at once two inches longer. "And where did you lose them?" "In the wood near here." At this second lie his nose went on growing. "If you have lost them in the wood near here," said the Fairy, "we will look for them and we shall find them: because everything that is lost in that wood is always found." "Ah! now I remember all about it," replied the puppet, getting quite confused; "I didn't lose the four gold pieces, I swallowed them whilst I was drinking your medicine." At this lie his nose grew to such an extraordinary length that poor Pinocchio could not move in any direction. If he turned to one side he struck his nose against the bed or the window-panes, if he turned to the other he struck it against the walls or the door, if he raised his head a little he ran the risk of sticking it into one of the Fairy's eyes. And the Fairy looked at him and laughed. "What are you laughing at?" asked the puppet, very confused and anxious at finding his nose growing so prodigiously. "I am laughing at the lie you have told." "And how can you possibly know that I have told a lie?" "Lies, my dear boy, are found out immediately, because they are of two sorts. There are lies that have short legs, and lies that have long noses. Your lie, as it happens, is one of those that have a long nose." Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide himself for shame, tried to run out of the room; but he did not succeed, for his nose had increased so much that it could no longer pass through the door. [Illustration: SPLASH! SPLASH! THEY FELL INTO THE VERY MIDDLE OF THE DITCH] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVIII PINOCCHIO AGAIN MEETS THE FOX AND THE CAT The Fairy allowed the puppet to cry for a good half-hour over his nose, which could no longer pass through the door of the room. This she did to give him a severe lesson, and to correct him of the disgraceful fault of telling lies--the most disgraceful fault that a boy can have. But when she saw him quite disfigured and his eyes swollen out of his head from weeping, she felt full of compassion for him. She therefore beat her hands together and at that signal a thousand large birds called Woodpeckers flew in at the window. They immediately perched on Pinocchio's nose and began to peck at it with such zeal that in a few minutes his enormous and ridiculous nose was reduced to its usual dimensions. "What a good Fairy you are," said the puppet, drying his eyes, "and how much I love you!" "I love you also," answered the Fairy; "and if you will remain with me you shall be my little brother and I will be your good little sister." "I would remain willingly if it were not for my poor papa." "I have thought of everything. I have already let your father know, and he will be here tonight." "Really?" shouted Pinocchio, jumping for joy. "Then, little Fairy, if you consent, I should like to go and meet him. I am so anxious to give a kiss to that poor old man, who has suffered so much on my account, that I am counting the minutes." "Go, then, but be careful not to lose yourself. Take the road through the wood and I am sure that you will meet him." Pinocchio set out, and as soon as he was in the wood he began to run like a kid. But when he had reached a certain spot, almost in front of the Big Oak, he stopped, because he thought he heard people amongst the bushes. In fact, two persons came out on to the road. Can you guess who they were? His two traveling companions, the Fox and the Cat, with whom he had supped at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish. "Why, here is our dear Pinocchio!" cried the Fox, kissing and embracing him. "How came you to be here?" "How come you to be here?" repeated the Cat. "It is a long story," answered the puppet, "which I will tell you when I have time. But do you know that the other night, when you left me alone at the inn, I met with assassins on the road?" "Assassins! Oh, poor Pinocchio! And what did they want?" "They wanted to rob me of my gold pieces." "Villains!" said the Fox. "Infamous villains!" repeated the Cat. "But I ran away from them," continued the puppet, "and they followed me, and at last they overtook me and hung me to a branch of that oak tree." And Pinocchio pointed to the Big Oak, which was two steps from them. "Is it possible to hear of anything more dreadful?" said the Fox. "In what a world we are condemned to live! Where can respectable people like us find a safe refuge?" Whilst they were thus talking Pinocchio observed that the Cat was lame of her front right leg, for in fact she had lost her paw with all its claws. He therefore asked her: "What have you done with your paw?" The Cat tried to answer, but became confused. Therefore the Fox said immediately: "My friend is too modest, and that is why she doesn't speak. I will answer for her. I must tell you that an hour ago we met an old wolf on the road, almost fainting from want of food, who asked alms of us. Not having so much as a fish-bone to give him, what did my friend, who has really the heart of a Cæsar, do? She bit off one of her fore paws and threw it to that poor beast that he might appease his hunger." And the Fox, in relating this, dried a tear. Pinocchio was also touched and, approaching the Cat, he whispered into her ear: "If all cats resembled you, how fortunate the mice would be!" "And now, what are you doing here?" asked the Fox of the puppet. "I am waiting for my papa, whom I expect to arrive every moment." "And your gold pieces?" "I have got them in my pocket, all but one that I spent at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish." "And to think that, instead of four pieces, by tomorrow they might become one or two thousand! Why do you not listen to my advice? Why will you not go and bury them in the Field of Miracles?" "Today it is impossible; I will go another day." "Another day it will be too late!" said the Fox. "Why?" "Because the field has been bought by a gentleman and after tomorrow no one will be allowed to bury money there." "How far off is the Field of Miracles?" "Not two miles. Will you come with us? In half an hour you will be there. You can bury your money at once, and in a few minutes you will collect two thousand, and this evening you will return with your pockets full. Will you come with us?" Pinocchio thought of the good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the warnings of the Talking-Cricket, and he hesitated a little before answering. He ended, however, by doing as all boys do who have not a grain of sense and who have no heart--he ended by giving his head a little shake and saying to the Fox and the Cat: "Let us go: I will come with you." And they went. After having walked half the day they reached a town that was called "Trap for Blockheads." As soon as Pinocchio entered this town he saw that the streets were crowded with dogs who were yawning from hunger, shorn sheep trembling with cold, cocks without combs begging for a grain of Indian corn, large butterflies that could no longer fly because they had sold their beautiful colored wings, peacocks which had no tails and were ashamed to be seen, and pheasants that went scratching about in a subdued fashion, mourning for their brilliant gold and silver feathers gone forever. In the midst of this crowd of beggars and shamefaced creatures some lordly carriage passed from time to time containing a Fox, or a thieving Magpie, or some other ravenous bird of prey. "And where is the Field of Miracles?" asked Pinocchio. "It is here, not two steps from us." They crossed the town and, having gone beyond the walls, they came to a solitary field. "Here we are," said the Fox to the puppet. "Now stoop down and dig with your hands a little hole in the ground and put your gold pieces into it." Pinocchio obeyed. He dug a hole, put into it the four gold pieces that he had left, and then filled up the hole with a little earth. "Now, then," said the Fox, "go to that canal close to us, fetch a can of water, and water the ground where you have sowed them." Pinocchio went to the canal, and, as he had no can, he took off one of his old shoes and filling it with water he watered the ground over the hole. He then asked: "Is there anything else to be done?" "Nothing else," answered the Fox. "We can now go away. You can return in about twenty minutes and you will find a shrub already pushing through the ground, with its branches quite loaded with money." The poor puppet, beside himself with joy, thanked the Fox and the Cat a thousand times, and promised them a beautiful present. "We wish for no presents," answered the two rascals. "It is enough for us to have taught you the way to enrich yourself without undergoing hard work, and we are as happy as people out for a holiday." Thus saying, they took leave of Pinocchio, and, wishing him a good harvest, went about their business. [Illustration] CHAPTER XIX PINOCCHIO IS ROBBED OF HIS MONEY The puppet returned to the town and began to count the minutes one by one, and when he thought that it must be time he took the road leading to the Field of Miracles. And as he walked along with hurried steps his heart beat fast--tic, tac, tic, tac--like a drawing-room clock when it is really going well. Meanwhile he was thinking to himself: "And if, instead of a thousand gold pieces, I were to find on the branches of the tree two thousand? And instead of two thousand, supposing I found five thousand? and instead of five thousand, that I found a hundred thousand? Oh! what a fine gentleman I should then become! I would have a beautiful palace, a thousand little wooden horses and a thousand stables to amuse myself with, a cellar full of currant wine and sweet syrups, and a library quite full of candies, tarts, plum-cakes, macaroons, and biscuits with cream." Whilst he was building these castles in the air he had arrived in the neighborhood of the field, and he stopped to look about for a tree with its branches laden with money, but he saw nothing. He advanced another hundred steps--nothing; he entered the field and went right up to the little hole where he had buried his sovereigns--and nothing. He then became very thoughtful and, forgetting the rules of society and good manners, he took his hands out of his pocket and gave his head a long scratch. At that moment he heard an explosion of laughter close to him and, looking up, he saw a large Parrot perched on a tree, who was pruning the few feathers he had left. "Why are you laughing?" asked Pinocchio in an angry voice. "I am laughing because in pruning my feathers I tickled myself under my wings." The puppet did not answer, but went to the canal and, filling the same old shoe full of water, he proceeded to water the earth afresh that covered his gold pieces. While he was thus occupied another laugh, still more impertinent than the first, rang out in the silence of that solitary place. "Once for all," shouted Pinocchio in a rage, "may I know, you ill-educated Parrot, what you are laughing at?" "I am laughing at those simpletons who believe in all the foolish things that are told them, and who allow themselves to be entrapped by those who are more cunning than they are." "Are you perhaps speaking of me?" "Yes, I am speaking of you, poor Pinocchio--of you who are simple enough to believe that money can be sown and gathered in fields in the same way as beans and gourds. I also believed it once and today I am suffering for it. Today--but it is too late--I have at last learned that to put a few pennies honestly together it is necessary to know how to earn them, either by the work of our own hands or by the cleverness of our own brains." "I don't understand you," said the puppet, who was already trembling with fear. "Have patience! I will explain myself better," rejoined the Parrot. "You must know, then, that while you were in the town the Fox and the Cat returned to the field; they took the buried money and then fled like the wind. And now he that catches them will be clever." Pinocchio remained with his mouth open and, not choosing to believe the Parrot's words, he began with his hands and nails to dig up the earth that he had watered. And he dug, and dug, and dug, and made such a deep hole that a rick of straw might have stood upright in it, but the money was no longer there. He rushed back to the town in a state of desperation and went at once to the Courts of Justice to denounce the two knaves who had robbed him to the judge. The judge was a big ape of the gorilla tribe, an old ape respectable for his age, his white beard, but especially for his gold spectacles without glasses that he was always obliged to wear, on account of an inflammation of the eyes that had tormented him for many years. Pinocchio related in the presence of the judge all the particulars of the infamous fraud of which he had been the victim. He gave the names, the surnames, and other details, of the two rascals, and ended by demanding justice. The judge listened with great benignity; took a lively interest in the story; was much touched and moved; and when the puppet had nothing further to say he stretched out his hand and rang a bell. At this summons two mastiffs immediately appeared dressed as gendarmes. The judge then, pointing to Pinocchio, said to them: "That poor devil has been robbed of four gold pieces; take him away and put him immediately into prison." The puppet was petrified on hearing this unexpected sentence and tried to protest; but the gendarmes, to avoid losing time, stopped his mouth and carried him off to the lockup. And there he remained for four months--four long months--and he would have remained longer still if a fortunate chance had not released him. The young Emperor who reigned over the town of "Trap for Blockheads," having won a splendid victory over his enemies, ordered great public rejoicings. There were illuminations, fireworks, horse races and velocipede races, and as a further sign of triumph he commanded that the prisons should be opened and all the prisoners freed. "If the others are to be let out of prison, I will go also," said Pinocchio to the jailor. "No, not you," said the jailor, "because you do not belong to the fortunate class." "I beg your pardon," replied Pinocchio, "I am also a criminal." "In that case you are perfectly right," said the jailor, and, taking off his hat and bowing to him respectfully, he opened the prison doors and let him escape. CHAPTER XX PINOCCHIO STARTS BACK TO THE FAIRY'S HOUSE You can imagine Pinocchio's joy when he found himself free. Without stopping to take breath he immediately left the town and took the road that led to the Fairy's house. On account of the rainy weather the road had become a marsh into which he sank knee-deep. But the puppet would not give in. Tormented by the desire of seeing his father and his little sister with blue hair again, he ran on like a greyhound, and as he ran he was splashed with mud from head to foot. And he said to himself as he went along: "How many misfortunes have happened to me. But I deserved them, for I am an obstinate, passionate puppet. I am always bent upon having my own way, without listening to those who wish me well, and who have a thousand times more sense than I have! But from this time forth I am determined to change and to become orderly and obedient. For at last I have seen that disobedient boys come to no good and gain nothing. And has my papa waited for me? Shall I find him at the Fairy's house? Poor man, it is so long since I last saw him: I am dying to embrace him and to cover him with kisses! And will the Fairy forgive me my bad conduct to her? To think of all the kindness and loving care I received from her, to think that if I am now alive I owe it to her! Would it be possible to find a more ungrateful boy, or one with less heart than I have?" Whilst he was saying this he stopped suddenly, frightened to death, and made four steps backwards. What had he seen? He had seen an immense Serpent stretched across the road. Its skin was green, it had red eyes, and a pointed tail that was smoking like a chimney. It would be impossible to imagine the puppet's terror. He walked away to a safe distance and, sitting down on a heap of stones, waited until the Serpent should have gone about its business and left the road clear. He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always there, and even from a distance he could see the red light of his fiery eyes and the column of smoke that ascended from the end of his tail. At last Pinocchio, trying to feel courageous, approached to within a few steps, and said to the Serpent in a little soft, insinuating voice: "Excuse me. Sir Serpent, but would you be so good as to move a little to one side--just enough to allow me to pass?" He might as well have spoken to the wall. Nobody moved. He began again in the same soft voice: "You must know. Sir Serpent, that I am on my way home, where my father is waiting for me, and it is such a long time since I saw him last! Will you, therefore, allow me to continue my road?" He waited for a sign in answer to this request, but there was none; in fact, the Serpent, who up to that moment had been sprightly and full of life, became motionless and almost rigid. He shut his eyes and his tail ceased smoking. "Can he really be dead?" said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands with delight. He determined to jump over him and reach the other side of the road. But, just as he was going to leap, the Serpent raised himself suddenly on end, like a spring set in motion; and the puppet, drawing back, in his terror caught his feet and fell to the ground. And he fell so awkwardly that his head stuck in the mud and his legs went into the air. At the sight of the puppet kicking violently with his head in the mud, the Serpent went into convulsions of laughter, and laughed, and laughed, until he broke a blood-vessel in his chest and died. And that time he was really dead. Pinocchio then set off running, in hopes that he should reach the Fairy's house before dark. But before long he began to suffer so dreadfully from hunger that he could not bear it, and he jumped into a field by the wayside, intending to pick some bunches of Muscatel grapes. Oh, that he had never done it! He had scarcely reached the vines when crack--his legs were caught between two cutting iron bars and he became so giddy with pain that stars of every color danced before his eyes. The poor puppet had been taken in a trap put there to capture some big polecats which were the scourge of the poultry-yards in the neighborhood. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXI PINOCCHIO ACTS AS WATCH-DOG Pinocchio began to cry and scream, but his tears and groans were useless, for there was not a house to be seen, and not a living soul passed down the road. At last night came on. Partly from the pain of the trap, that cut his legs, and a little from fear at finding himself alone in the dark in the midst of the fields, the puppet was on the point of fainting. Just at that moment he saw a Firefly flitting over his head. He called to it and said: "Oh, little Firefly, will you have pity on me and liberate me from this torture?" "Poor boy!" said the Firefly, stopping and looking at him with compassion; "but how could your legs have been caught by those sharp irons?" "I came into the field to pick two bunches of these Muscatel grapes, and--" "But were the grapes yours?" "No." "Then who taught you to carry off other people's property?" "I was so hungry." "Hunger, my boy, is not a good reason for appropriating what does not belong to us." "That is true, that is true!" said Pinocchio, crying. "I will never do it again." At this moment their conversation was interrupted by a slight sound of approaching footsteps. It was the owner of the field coming on tiptoe to see if one of the polecats that ate his chickens during the night had been caught in his trap. His astonishment was great when, having brought out his lantern from under his coat, he perceived that instead of a polecat a boy had been taken. "Ah, little thief," said the angry peasant, "then it is you who carries off my chickens?" "No, it is not I; indeed it is not!" cried Pinocchio, sobbing. "I only came into the field to take two bunches of grapes!" "He who steals grapes is quite capable of stealing chickens. Leave it to me, I will give you a lesson that you will not forget in a hurry." Opening the trap, he seized the puppet by the collar and carried him to his house as if he had been a young lamb. When he reached the yard in front of the house he threw him roughly on the ground and, putting his foot on his neck, he said to him: "It is late and I want to go to bed; we will settle our accounts tomorrow. In the meanwhile, as the dog who kept guard at night died today, you shall take his place at once. You shall be my watch-dog." And, taking a great collar covered with brass knobs, he strapped it so tightly round his throat that he was not able to draw his head out of it. A heavy chain attached to the collar was fastened to the wall. "If it should rain tonight," he then said to him, "you can go and lie down in the kennel; the straw that has served as a bed for my poor dog for the last four years is still there. If unfortunately robbers should come, remember to keep your ears pricked and to bark." After giving him this last injunction the man went into the house, shut the door, and put up the chain. Poor Pinocchio remained lying on the ground more dead than alive from the effects of cold, hunger and fear. From time to time he put his hands angrily to the collar that tightened his throat and said, crying: "It serves me right! Decidedly, it serves me right! I was determined to be a vagabond and a good-for-nothing. I would listen to bad companions, and that is why I always meet with misfortunes. If I had been a good little boy, as so many are; if I had remained at home with my poor papa, I should not now be in the midst of the fields and obliged to be the watch-dog to a peasant's house. Oh, if I could be born again! But now it is too late and I must have patience!" Relieved by this little outburst, which came straight from his heart, he went into the dog-kennel and fell asleep. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXII PINOCCHIO DISCOVERS THE ROBBERS He had been sleeping heavily for about two hours when, towards midnight, he was aroused by a whispering of strange voices that seemed to come from the courtyard. Putting the point of his nose out of the kennel, he saw four little beasts with dark fur, that looked like cats, standing consulting together. But they were not cats; they were polecats--carnivorous little animals, especially greedy for eggs and young chickens. One of the polecats, leaving his companions, came to the opening of the kennel and said in a low voice: "Good evening, Melampo." "My name is not Melampo," answered the puppet. "Oh! then who are you?" "I am Pinocchio." "And what are you doing here?" "I am acting as watch-dog." "Then where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who lived in this kennel?" "He died this morning." "Is he dead? Poor beast! He was so good. But, judging you by your face, I should say that you were also a good dog." "I beg your pardon, I am not a dog." "Not a dog? Then what are you?" "I am a puppet." "And you are acting as watch-dog?" "That is only too true--as a punishment." "Well, then, I will offer you the same conditions that we made with the deceased Melampo, and I am sure you will be satisfied with them." "What are these conditions?" "One night in every week you are to permit us to visit this poultry-yard as we have hitherto done, and to carry off eight chickens. Of these chickens seven are to be eaten by us, and one we will give to you, on the express understanding, however, that you pretend to be asleep, and that it never enters your head to bark and to waken the peasant." "Did Melampo act in this manner?" asked Pinocchio. "Certainly, and we were always on the best terms with him. Sleep quietly, and rest assured that before we go we will leave by the kennel a beautiful chicken ready plucked for your breakfast tomorrow. Have we understood each other clearly?" "Only too clearly!" answered Pinocchio, and he shook his head threateningly, as much as to say: "You shall hear of this shortly!" The four polecats, thinking themselves safe, repaired to the poultry-yard, which was close to the kennel, and, having opened the wooden gate with their teeth and claws, they slipped in one by one. But they had only just passed through when they heard the gate shut behind them with great violence. It was Pinocchio who had shut it, and for greater security he put a large stone against it to keep it closed. He then began to bark, and he barked exactly like a watch-dog: "Bow-wow, bow-wow." Hearing the barking, the peasant jumped out of bed and, taking his gun, he came to the window and asked: "What is the matter?" "There are robbers!" answered Pinocchio. "Where are they?" "In the poultry-yard." "I will come down directly." In fact, in less time than it takes to say "Amen!" the peasant came down. He rushed into the poultry-yard, caught the polecats, and, having put them into a sack, he said to them in a tone of great satisfaction: "At last you have fallen into my hands! I might punish you, but I am not so cruel. I will content myself instead by carrying you in the morning to the innkeeper of the neighboring village, who will skin and cook you as hares with a sweet and sour sauce. It is an honor that you don't deserve, but generous people like me don't consider such trifles!" He then approached Pinocchio and began to caress him, and amongst other things he asked him: "How did you manage to discover the four thieves? To think that Melampo, my faithful Melampo, never found out anything!" The puppet might then have told him the whole story; he might have informed him of the disgraceful conditions that had been made between the dog and the polecats; but he remembered that the dog was dead and he thought to himself: "What is the good of accusing the dead? The dead are dead, and the best thing to be done is to leave them in peace!" "When the thieves got into the yard, were you asleep or awake?" the peasant went on to ask him. "I was asleep," answered Pinocchio, "but the polecats woke me with their chatter and one of them came to the kennel and said to me: 'If you promise not to bark, and not to wake the master, we will make you a present of a fine chicken ready plucked!' To think that they should have had the audacity to make such a proposal to me! For, although I am a puppet, possessing perhaps nearly all the faults in the world, there is one that I certainly will never be guilty of, that of making terms with, and sharing the gains of, dishonest people!" "Well said, my boy!" cried the peasant, slapping him on the shoulder. "Such sentiments do you honor; and as a proof of my gratitude I will at once set you at liberty, and you may return home." And he removed the dog-collar. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII PINOCCHIO FLIES TO THE SEASHORE As soon as Pinocchio was released from the heavy and humiliating weight of the dog-collar he started off across the fields and never stopped until he had reached the high road that led to the Fairy's house. He could see amongst the trees the top of the Big Oak to which he had been hung, but, although he looked in every direction, the little house belonging to the beautiful Child with the blue hair was nowhere visible. Seized with a sad presentiment, he began to run with all the strength he had left and in a few minutes he reached the field where the little white house had once stood. But it was no longer there. Instead of the house he saw a marble stone, on which were engraved these sad words: HERE LIES THE CHILD WITH THE BLUE HAIR WHO DIED FROM SORROW BECAUSE SHE WAS ABANDONED BY HER LITTLE BROTHER PINOCCHIO I leave you to imagine the puppet's feelings when he had with difficulty spelled out this epitaph. He fell with his face on the ground and, covering the tombstone with a thousand kisses, burst into an agony of tears. He cried all night and when morning came he was still crying, although he had no tears left, and his sobs and lamentations were so acute and heart-breaking that they aroused the echoes in the surrounding hills. And as he wept he said: "Oh, little Fairy, why did you die? Why did I not die instead of you, I who am so wicked, whilst you were so good? And my papa? Where can he be? Oh, little Fairy, tell me where I can find him, for I want to remain with him always and never leave him again, never again! Oh, little Fairy, tell me that it is not true that you are dead! If you really love your little brother, come to life again. Does it not grieve you to see me alone and abandoned by everybody? If assassins come they will hang me again to the branch of a tree, and then I should die indeed. What do you imagine that I can do here alone in the world? Now that I have lost you and my papa, who will give me food? Where shall I go to sleep at night? Who will make me a new jacket? Oh, it would be better, a hundred times better, for me to die also! Yes, I want to die--oh! oh! oh!" [Illustration: An Immense Serpent Stretched Across the Road] And in his despair he tried to tear his hair, but his hair was made of wood so he could not even have the satisfaction of sticking his fingers into it. Just then a large Pigeon flew over his head and, stopping with distended wings, called down to him from a great height: "Tell me, child, what are you doing there?" "Don't you see? I am crying!" said Pinocchio, raising his head towards the voice and rubbing his eyes with his jacket. "Tell me," continued the Pigeon, "amongst your companions, do you happen to know a puppet who is called Pinocchio?" "Pinocchio? Did you say Pinocchio?" repeated the puppet, jumping quickly to his feet. "I am Pinocchio!" At this answer the Pigeon descended rapidly to the ground. He was larger than a turkey. "Do you also know Geppetto?" he asked. "Do I know him! He is my poor papa! Has he perhaps spoken to you of me? Will you take me to him? Is he still alive? Answer me, for pity's sake: is he still alive?" "I left him three days ago on the seashore." "What was he doing?" "He was building a little boat for himself, to cross the ocean. For more than three months that poor man has been going all round the world looking for you. Not having succeeded in finding you, he has now taken it into his head to go to the distant countries of the New World in search of you." "How far is it from here to the shore?" asked Pinocchio breathlessly. "More than six hundred miles." "Six hundred miles? Oh, beautiful Pigeon, what a fine thing it would be to have your wings!" "If you wish to go, I will carry you there." "How?" "On my back. Do you weigh much?" "I weigh next to nothing. I am as light as a feather." And without waiting for more Pinocchio jumped at once on the Pigeon's back and, putting a leg on each side of him as men do on horseback, he exclaimed joyfully: "Gallop, gallop, my little horse, for I am anxious to arrive quickly!" The Pigeon took flight and in a few minutes had soared so high that they almost touched the clouds. Finding himself at such an immense height the puppet had the curiosity to turn and look down; but his head spun round and he became so frightened to save himself from the danger of falling he wound his arms tightly round the neck of his feathered steed. They flew all day. Towards evening the Pigeon said: "I am very thirsty!" "And I am very hungry!" rejoined Pinocchio. "Let us stop at that dovecote for a few minutes and then we will continue our journey, so that we may reach the seashore by dawn tomorrow." They went into a deserted dovecote, where they found nothing but a basin full of water and a basket full of vetch. The puppet had never in his life been able to eat vetch: according to him it made him sick. That evening, however, he ate to repletion, and when he had nearly emptied the basket he turned to the Pigeon and said to him: "I never could have believed that vetch was so good!" "Be assured, my boy," replied the Pigeon, "that when hunger is real, and there is nothing else to eat, even vetch becomes delicious. Hunger knows neither caprice nor greediness." Having quickly finished their little meal they recommenced their journey and flew away. The following morning they reached the seashore. The Pigeon placed Pinocchio on the ground and, not wishing to be troubled with thanks for having done a good action, flew quickly away and disappeared. The shore was crowded with people who were looking out to sea, shouting and gesticulating. "What has happened?" asked Pinocchio of an old woman. "A poor father who has lost his son has gone away in a boat to search for him on the other side of the water, and today the sea is tempestuous and the little boat is in danger of sinking." "Where is the little boat?" "It is out there in a line with my finger," said the old woman, pointing to a little boat which, seen at that distance, looked like a nutshell with a very little man in it. Pinocchio fixed his eyes on it and after looking attentively he gave a piercing scream, crying: "It is my papa! It is my papa!" The boat, meanwhile, beaten by the fury of the waves, at one moment disappeared in the trough of the sea, and the next came again to the surface. Pinocchio, standing on the top of a high rock, kept calling to his father by name, and making every kind of signal to him with his hands, his handkerchief, and his cap. And, although he was so far off, Geppetto appeared to recognize his son, for he also took off his cap and waved it, and tried by gestures to make him understand that he would have returned if it had been possible, but that the sea was so tempestuous that he could not use his oars or approach the shore. Suddenly a tremendous wave rose and the boat disappeared. They waited, hoping it would come again to the surface, but it was seen no more. "Poor man!" said the fishermen who were assembled on the shore; murmuring a prayer, they turned to go home. Just then they heard a desperate cry and, looking back, they saw a little boy who exclaimed, as he jumped from a rock into the sea: "I will save my papa!" Pinocchio, being made of wood, floated easily and he swam like a fish. At one moment they saw him disappear under the water, carried down by the fury of the waves, and next he reappeared struggling with a leg or an arm. At last they lost sight of him and he was seen no more. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIV PINOCCHIO FINDS THE FAIRY AGAIN Pinocchio, hoping to be in time to help his father, swam the whole night. And what a horrible night it was! The rain came down in torrents, it hailed, the thunder was frightful, and the flashes of lightning made it as light as day. Towards morning he saw a long strip of land not far off. It was an island in the midst of the sea. He tried his utmost to reach the shore, but it was all in vain. The waves, racing and tumbling over each other, knocked him about as if he had been a stick or a wisp of straw. At last, fortunately for him, a billow rolled up with such fury and impetuosity that he was lifted up and thrown far on to the sands. He fell with such force that, as he struck the ground, his ribs and all his joints cracked, but he comforted himself, saying: "This time also I have made a wonderful escape!" Little by little the sky cleared, the sun shone out in all his splendor, and the sea became as quiet and as smooth as oil. The puppet put his clothes in the sun to dry and began to look in every direction in hopes of seeing on the vast expanse of water a little boat with a little man in it. But, although he looked and looked, he could see nothing but the sky, and the sea, and the sail of some ship, but so far away that it seemed no bigger than a fly. "If I only knew what this island was called!" he said to himself. "If I only knew whether it was inhabited by civilized people--I mean, by people who have not the bad habit of hanging boys to the branches of the trees. But whom can I ask? Whom, if there is nobody?" This idea of finding himself alone, alone, all alone, in the midst of this great uninhabited country, made him so melancholy that he was just beginning to cry. But at that moment, at a short distance from the shore, he saw a big fish swimming by; it was going quietly on its own business with its head out of the water. Not knowing its name, the puppet called to it in a loud voice to make himself heard: "Eh, Sir Fish, will you permit me a word with you?" "Two if you like," answered the fish, who was a Dolphin, and so polite that few similar are to be found in any sea in the world. "Will you be kind enough to tell me if there are villages in this island where it would be possible to obtain something to eat, without running the danger of being eaten?" "Certainly there are," replied the Dolphin. "Indeed, you will find one at a short distance from here." "And what road must I take to go there?" "You must take that path to your left and follow your nose. You cannot make a mistake." "Will you tell me another thing? You who swim about the sea all day and all night, have you by chance met a little boat with my papa in it?" "And who is your papa?" "He is the best papa in the world, whilst it would be difficult to find a worse son than I am." "During the terrible storm last night," answered the Dolphin, "the little boat must have gone to the bottom." "And my papa?" "He must have been swallowed by the terrible Dog-Fish, who for some days past has been spreading devastation and ruin in our waters." "Is this Dog-Fish very big?" asked Pinocchio, who was already beginning to quake with fear. "Big!" replied the Dolphin. "That you may form some idea of his size, I need only tell you that he is bigger than a five-storied house, and that his mouth is so enormous and so deep that a railway train with its smoking engine could pass down his throat." "Mercy upon us!" exclaimed the terrified puppet; and, putting on his clothes with the greatest haste, he said to the Dolphin: "Good-bye, Sir Fish; excuse the trouble I have given you, and many thanks for your politeness." He then took the path that had been pointed out to him and began to walk fast--so fast, indeed, that he was almost running. And at the slightest noise he turned to look behind him, fearing that he might see the terrible Dog-Fish with a railway train in its mouth following him. After a walk of half an hour he reached a little village called "The Village of the Industrious Bees." The road was alive with people running here and there to attend to their business; all were at work, all had something to do. You could not have found an idler or a vagabond, not even if you had searched for him with a lighted lamp. "Ah!" said that lazy Pinocchio at once, "I see that this village will never suit me! I wasn't born to work!" In the meanwhile he was tormented by hunger, for he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours--not even vetch. What was he to do? There were only two ways by which he could obtain food--either by asking for a little work, or by begging for a nickel or for a mouthful of bread. He was ashamed to beg, for his father had always preached to him that no one had a right to beg except the aged and the infirm. The really poor in this world, deserving of compassion and assistance, are only those who from age or sickness are no longer able to earn their own bread with the labor of their hands. It is the duty of every one else to work; and if they will not work, so much the worse for them if they suffer from hunger. At that moment a man came down the road, tired and panting for breath. He was dragging, alone, with fatigue and difficulty, two carts full of charcoal. Pinocchio, judging by his face that he was a kind man, approached him and, casting down his eyes with shame, he said to him in a low voice: "Would you have the charity to give me a nickel, for I am dying of hunger?" "You shall have not only a nickel," said the man, "but I will give you a quarter, provided that you help me to drag home these two carts of charcoal." "I am surprised at you!" answered the puppet in a tone of offense. "Let me tell you that I am not accustomed to do the work of a donkey: I have never drawn a cart!" "So much the better for you," answered the man. "Then, my boy, if you are really dying of hunger, eat two fine slices of your pride, and be careful not to get indigestion." A few minutes afterwards a mason passed down the road carrying on his shoulders a basket of lime. "Would you have the charity, good man, to give a nickel to a poor boy who is yawning for want of food?" "Willingly," answered the man. "Come with me and carry the lime, and instead of a nickel I will give you a quarter." "But the lime is heavy," objected Pinocchio, "and I don't want to tire myself." "If you don't want to tire yourself, then, my boy, amuse yourself with yawning, and much good may it do you." In less than half an hour twenty other people went by, and Pinocchio asked charity of them all, but they all answered: "Are you not ashamed to beg? Instead of idling about the roads, go and look for a little work and learn to earn your bread." At last a nice little woman carrying two cans of water came by. "Will you let me drink a little water out of your can?" asked Pinocchio, who was burning with thirst. "Drink, my boy, if you wish it!" said the little woman, setting down the two cans. Pinocchio drank like a fish, and as he dried his mouth he mumbled: "I have quenched my thirst. If I could only appease my hunger!" The good woman, hearing these words, said at once: "If you will help me to carry home these two cans of water I will give you a fine piece of bread." Pinocchio looked at the can and answered neither yes nor no. "And besides the bread you shall have a nice dish of cauliflower dressed with oil and vinegar," added the good woman. Pinocchio gave another look at the can and answered neither yes nor no. "And after the cauliflower I will give you a beautiful bonbon full of syrup." The temptation of this last dainty was so great that Pinocchio could resist no longer and with an air of decision he said: "I must have patience! I will carry the can to your house." The can was heavy and the puppet, not being strong enough to carry it in his hand, had to resign himself to carry it on his head. When they reached the house the good little woman made Pinocchio sit down at a small table already laid and she placed before him the bread, the cauliflower and the bonbon. Pinocchio did not eat, he devoured. His stomach was like an apartment that had been left empty and uninhabited for five months. When his ravenous hunger was somewhat appeased he raised his head to thank his benefactress, but he had no sooner looked at her than he gave a prolonged "Oh-h!" of astonishment and continued staring at her with wide open eyes, his fork in the air, and his mouth full of bread and cauliflower, as if he had been bewitched. "What has surprised you so much?" asked the good woman, laughing. "It is--" answered the puppet, "it is--it is--that you are like--that you remind me--yes, yes, yes, the same voice--the same eyes--the same hair--yes, yes, yes--you also have blue hair--as she had--Oh, little Fairy! tell me that it is you, really you! Do not make me cry any more! If you knew--I have cried so much, I have suffered so much." And, throwing himself at her feet on the floor, Pinocchio embraced the knees of the mysterious little woman and began to cry bitterly. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXV PINOCCHIO PROMISES THE FAIRY TO BE GOOD At first the good little woman maintained that she was not the little Fairy with blue hair, but, seeing that she was found out and not wishing to continue the comedy any longer, she ended by making herself known, and she said to Pinocchio: "You little rogue! how did you ever discover who I was?" "It was my great affection for you that told me." "Do you remember? You left me a child, and now that you have found me again I am a woman--a woman almost old enough to be your mamma." "I am delighted at that, for now, instead of calling you little sister, I will call you mamma. I have wished for such a long time to have a mamma like other boys! But how did you manage to grow so fast?" "That is a secret." "Teach it to me, for I should also like to grow. Don't you see? I always remain no bigger than a ninepin." "But you cannot grow," replied the Fairy. "Why?" "Because puppets never grow. They are born puppets, live puppets, and die puppets." "Oh, I am sick of being a puppet!" cried Pinocchio, giving himself a slap. "It is time that I became a man." "And you will become one, if you know how to deserve it." "Not really? And what can I do to deserve it?" "A very easy thing: by learning to be a good boy." "And you think I am not?" "You are quite the contrary. Good boys are obedient, and you--" "And I never obey." "Good boys like to learn and to work, and you--" "And I instead lead an idle, vagabond life the year through." "Good boys always speak the truth." "And I always tell lies." "Good boys go willingly to school." "And school gives me pain all over the body. But from today I will change my life." "Do you promise me?" "I promise you. I will become a good little boy, and I will be the consolation of my papa. Where is my poor papa at this moment?" "I do not know." "Shall I ever have the happiness of seeing him again and kissing him?" "I think so; indeed, I am sure of it." At this answer Pinocchio was so delighted that he took the Fairy's hands and began to kiss them with such fervor that he seemed beside himself. Then, raising his face and looking at her lovingly, he asked: "Tell me, little mamma: then it was not true that you were dead?" "It seems not," said the Fairy, smiling. "If you only knew the sorrow I felt and the tightening of my throat when I read, 'Here lies--'" "I know it, and it is on that account that I have forgiven you. I saw from the sincerity of your grief that you had a good heart; and when boys have good hearts, even if they are scamps and have got bad habits, there is always something to hope for; that is, there is always hope that they will turn to better ways. That is why I came to look for you here. I will be your mamma." "Oh, how delightful!" shouted Pinocchio, jumping for joy. "You must obey me and do everything that I bid you." "Willingly, willingly, willingly!" "Tomorrow," rejoined the Fairy, "you will begin to go to school." Pinocchio became at once a little less joyful. "Then you must choose an art, or a trade, according to your own wishes." Pinocchio became very grave. "What are you muttering between your teeth?" asked the Fairy in an angry voice. "I was saying," moaned the puppet in a low voice, "that it seemed to me too late for me to go to school now." "No, sir. Keep it in mind that it is never too late to learn and to instruct ourselves." "But I do not wish to follow either an art or a trade." "Why?" "Because it tires me to work." "My boy," said the Fairy, "those who talk in that way end almost always either in prison or in the hospital. Let me tell you that every man, whether he is born rich or poor, is obliged to do something in this world--to occupy himself, to work. Woe to those who lead slothful lives. Sloth is a dreadful illness and must be cured at once, in childhood. If not, when we are old it can never be cured." Pinocchio was touched by these words and, lifting his head quickly, he said to the Fairy: "I will study, I will work, I will do all that you tell me, for indeed I have become weary of being a puppet, and I wish at any price to become a boy. You promised me that I should, did you not?" "I did promise you, and it now depends upon yourself." [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI THE TERRIBLE DOG-FISH The following day Pinocchio went to the government school. Imagine the delight of all the little rogues, when they saw a puppet walk into their school! They set up a roar of laughter that never ended. They played him all sorts of tricks. One boy carried off his cap, another pulled his jacket behind; one tried to give him a pair of inky mustachios just under his nose, and another attempted to tie strings to his feet and hands to make him dance. For a short time Pinocchio pretended not to care and got on as well as he could; but at last, losing all patience, he turned to those who were teasing him most and making game of him, and said to them, looking very angry: "Beware, boys! I have not come here to be your buffoon. I respect others, and I intend to be respected." [Illustration: "Oh, I Am Sick of Being a Puppet!" Cried Pinocchio] "Well said, boaster! You have spoken like a book!" howled the young rascals, convulsed with mad laughter, and one of them, more impertinent than the others, stretched out his hand, intending to seize the puppet by the end of his nose. But he was not in time, for Pinocchio stuck his leg out from under the table and gave him a great kick on his shins. "Oh, what hard feet!" roared the boy, rubbing the bruise that the puppet had given him. "And what elbows! even harder than his feet!" said another, who for his rude tricks had received a blow in the stomach. But, nevertheless, the kick and the blow acquired at once for Pinocchio the sympathy and the esteem of all the boys in the school. They all made friends with him and liked him heartily. And even the master praised him, for he found him attentive, studious and intelligent--always the first to come to school, and the last to leave when school was over. But he had one fault: he made too many friends, and amongst them were several young rascals well known for their dislike to study and love of mischief. The master warned him every day, and even the good Fairy never failed to tell him and to repeat constantly: "Take care, Pinocchio! Those bad school-fellows of yours will end sooner or later by making you lose all love of study, and perhaps they may even bring upon you some great misfortune." "There is no fear of that!" answered the puppet, shrugging his shoulders and touching his forehead as much as to say: "There is so much sense here!" Now it happened that one fine day, as he was on his way to school, he met several of his usual companions who, coming up to him, asked: "Have you heard the great news?" "No." "In the sea near here a Dog-Fish has appeared as big as a mountain." "Not really? Can it be the same Dog-Fish that was there when my papa was drowned?" "We are going to the shore to see him. Will you come with us?" "No; I am going to school." "What matters school? We can go to school tomorrow. Whether we have a lesson more or a lesson less, we shall always remain the same donkeys." "But what will the master say?" "The master may say what he likes. He is paid on purpose to grumble all day." "And my mamma?" "Mammas know nothing," answered those bad little boys. "Do you know what I will do?" said Pinocchio. "I have reasons for wishing to see the Dog-Fish, but I will go and see him when school is over." "Poor donkey!" exclaimed one of the number. "Do you suppose that a fish of that size will wait your convenience? As soon as he is tired of being here he will start for another place, and then it will be too late." "How long does it take to go from here to the shore?" asked the puppet. "We can be there and back in an hour." "Then away!" shouted Pinocchio, "and he who runs fastest is the best!" Having thus given the signal to start, the boys, with their books and copy-books under their arms, rushed off across the fields, and Pinocchio was always the first--he seemed to have wings to his feet. From time to time he turned to jeer at his companions, who were some distance behind, and, seeing them panting for breath, covered with dust, and their tongues hanging out of their mouths, he laughed heartily. The unfortunate boy little knew what terrors and horrible disasters he was going to meet with! [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVII PINOCCHIO IS ARRESTED BY THE GENDARMES When he arrived on the shore Pinocchio looked out to sea, but he saw no Dog-Fish. The sea was as smooth as a great crystal mirror. "Where is the Dog-Fish?" he asked, turning to his companions. "He must have gone to have his breakfast," said one of them, laughing. "Or he has thrown himself on to his bed to have a little nap," added another, laughing still louder. From their absurd answers and silly laughter Pinocchio perceived that his companions had been making a fool of him, in inducing him to believe a tale with no truth in it. Taking it very badly, he said to them angrily: "And now, may I ask what fun you could find in deceiving me with the story of the Dog-Fish?" "Oh, it was great fun!" answered the little rascals in chorus. "And in what did it consist?" "In making you miss school and persuading you to come with us. Are you not ashamed of being always so punctual and so diligent with your lessons? Are you not ashamed of studying so hard?" "And if I study hard, what concern is it of yours?" "It concerns us excessively, because it makes us appear in a bad light to the master." "Why?" "Because boys who study make those who, like us, have no wish to learn, seem worse by comparison. And that is too bad. We, too, have our pride!" "Then what must I do to please you?" "You must follow our example and hate school, lessons, and the master--our three greatest enemies." "And if I wish to continue my studies?" "In that case we will have nothing more to do with you, and at the first opportunity we will make you pay for it." "Really," said the puppet, shaking his head, "you make me inclined to laugh." "Eh, Pinocchio" shouted the biggest of the boys, confronting him. "None of your superior airs: don't come here to crow over us, for if you are not afraid of us, we are not afraid of you. Remember that you are one against seven of us." "Seven, like the seven deadly sins," said Pinocchio, with a shout of laughter. "Listen to him! He has insulted us all! He called us the seven deadly sins!" "Take that to begin with and keep it for your supper tonight," said one of the boys. And, so saying, he gave him a blow on the head with his fist. But it was give and take; for the puppet, as was to be expected, immediately returned the blow, and the fight in a moment became general and desperate. Pinocchio, although he was one alone, defended himself like a hero. He used his feet, which were of the hardest wood, to such purpose that he kept his enemies at a respectful distance. Wherever they touched they left a bruise by way of reminder. The boys, becoming furious at not being able to measure themselves hand to hand with the puppet, had recourse to other weapons. Loosening their satchels, they commenced throwing their school-books at him--grammars, dictionaries, spelling-books, geography books, and other scholastic works. But Pinocchio was quick and had sharp eyes, and always managed to duck in time, so that the books passed over his head and all fell into the sea. Imagine the astonishment of the fish! Thinking that the books were something to eat they all arrived in shoals, but, having tasted a page or two, or a frontispiece, they spat it quickly out and made a wry face that seemed to say: "It isn't food for us; we are accustomed to something much better!" The battle meantime had become fiercer than ever, when a big crab, who had come out of the water and had climbed slowly up on the shore, called out in a hoarse voice that sounded like a trumpet with a bad cold: [Illustration: FOUR RABBITS AS BLACK AS INK ENTERED CARRYING A LITTLE BIER] "Have done with that, you young ruffians, for you are nothing else! These hand-to-hand fights between boys seldom finish well. Some disaster is sure to happen!" Poor crab! He might as well have preached to the wind. Even that young rascal, Pinocchio, turning around, looked at him mockingly and said rudely: "Hold your tongue, you tiresome crab! You had better suck some liquorice lozenges to cure that cold in your throat." Just then the boys, who had no more books of their own to throw, spied at a little distance the satchel that belonged to Pinocchio, and took possession of it. Amongst the books there was one bound in strong cardboard with the back and points of parchment. It was a Treatise on Arithmetic. One of the boys seized this volume and, aiming at Pinocchio's head, threw it at him with all the force he could muster. But instead of hitting the puppet it struck one of his companions on the temple, who, turning as white as a sheet, said only: "Oh, mother! help, I am dying!" and fell his whole length on the sand. Thinking he was dead, the terrified boys ran off as hard as their legs could carry them and in a few minutes they were out of sight. But Pinocchio remained. Although from grief and fright he was more dead than alive, nevertheless he ran and soaked his handkerchief in the sea and began to bathe the temples of his poor school-fellow. Crying bitterly in his despair, he kept calling him by name and saying to him: "Eugene! my poor Eugene! Open your eyes and look at me! Why do you not answer? I did not do it; indeed it was not I that hurt you so! believe me, it was not! Open your eyes, Eugene. If you keep your eyes shut I shall die, too. Oh! what shall I do? how shall I ever return home? How can I ever have the courage to go back to my good mamma? What will become of me? Where can I fly to? Oh! how much better it would have been, a thousand times better, if I had only gone to school! Why did I listen to my companions? they have been my ruin. The master said to me, and my mamma repeated it often: 'Beware of bad companions!' Oh, dear! what will become of me, what will become of me, what will become of me?" And Pinocchio began to cry and sob, and to strike his head with his fists, and to call poor Eugene by his name. Suddenly he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned and saw two soldiers. "What are you doing there, lying on the ground?" they asked Pinocchio. "I am helping my school-fellow." "Has he been hurt?" "So it seems." "Hurt indeed!" said one of them, stooping down and examining Eugene closely. "This boy has been wounded in the temple. Who wounded him?" "Not I," stammered the puppet breathlessly. "If it was not you, who then did it?" "Not I," repeated Pinocchio. "And with what was he wounded?" "With this book." And the puppet picked up from the ground the Treatise on Arithmetic, bound in cardboard and parchment, and showed it to the soldier. "And to whom does this belong?" "To me." "That is enough, nothing more is wanted. Get up and come with us at once." "But I--" "Come along with us!" "But I am innocent." "Come along with us!" Before they left, the soldiers called some fishermen who were passing at that moment near the shore in their boat, and said to them: "We give this boy who has been wounded in the head in your charge. Carry him to your house and nurse him. Tomorrow we will come and see him." They then turned to Pinocchio and, having placed him between them, they said to him in a commanding voice: "Forward! and walk quickly, or it will be the worse for you." Without requiring it to be repeated, the puppet set out along the road leading to the village. But the poor little devil hardly knew where he was. He thought he must be dreaming, and what a dreadful dream! He was beside himself. He saw double; his legs shook; his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a word. And yet, in the midst of his stupefaction and apathy, his heart was pierced by a cruel thorn--the thought that he would pass under the windows of the good Fairy's house between the soldiers. He would rather have died. They had already reached the village when a gust of wind blew Pinocchio's cap off his head and carried it ten yards off. "Will you permit me," said the puppet to the soldiers, "to go and get my cap?" "Go, then; but be quick about it." The puppet went and picked up his cap, but instead of putting it on his head he took it between his teeth and began to run as hard as he could towards the seashore. The soldiers, thinking it would be difficult to overtake him, sent after him a large mastiff who had won the first prizes at all the dog races. Pinocchio ran, but the dog ran faster. The people came to their windows and crowded into the street in their anxiety to see the end of the desperate race. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVIII PINOCCHIO ESCAPES BEING FRIED LIKE A FISH There came a moment in this desperate race--a terrible moment--when Pinocchio thought himself lost: for Alidoro, the mastiff, had run so swiftly that he had nearly come up with him. The puppet could hear the panting of the dreadful beast close behind him; there was not a hand's breadth between them, he could even feel the dog's hot breath. Fortunately the shore was close and the sea but a few steps off. As soon as he reached the sands the puppet made a wonderful leap--a frog could have done no better--and plunged into the water. Alidoro, on the contrary, wished to stop himself, but, carried away by the impetus of the race, he also went into the sea. The unfortunate dog could not swim, but he made great efforts to keep himself afloat with his paws; but the more he struggled the farther he sank head downwards under the water. When he rose to the surface again his eyes were rolling with terror, and he barked out: "I am drowning! I am drowning!" "Drown!" shouted Pinocchio from a distance, seeing himself safe from all danger. "Help me, dear Pinocchio! Save me from death!" At that agonizing cry the puppet, who had in reality an excellent heart, was moved with compassion, and, turning to the dog, he said: "But if I save your life, will you promise to give me no further annoyance, and not to run after me?" "I promise! I promise! Be quick, for pity's sake, for if you delay another half-minute I shall be dead." Pinocchio hesitated; but, remembering that his father had often told him that a good action is never lost, he swam to Alidoro, and, taking hold of his tail with both hands, brought him safe and sound on to the dry sand of the beach. The poor dog could not stand. He had drunk so much salt water that he was like a balloon. The puppet, however, not wishing to trust him too far, thought it more prudent to jump again into the water. When he had swum some distance from the shore he called out to the friend he had rescued: "Good-bye, Alidoro; a good journey to you, and take my compliments to all at home." "Good-bye, Pinocchio," answered the dog; "a thousand thanks for having saved my life. You have done me a great service, and in this world what is given is returned. If an occasion offers I shall not forget it." Pinocchio swam on, keeping always near the land. At last he thought that he had reached a safe place. Giving a look along the shore, he saw amongst the rocks a kind of cave from which a cloud of smoke was ascending. "In that cave," he said to himself, "there must be a fire. So much the better. I will go and dry and warm myself, and then? and then we shall see." Having taken the resolution he approached the rocks, but, as he was going to climb up, he felt something under the water that rose higher and higher and carried him into the air. He tried to escape, but it was too late, for, to his extreme surprise, he found himself enclosed in a great net, together with a swarm of fish of every size and shape, who were flapping and struggling like so many despairing souls. At the same moment a fisherman came out of the cave; he was so ugly, so horribly ugly, that he looked like a sea monster. Instead of hair his head was covered with a thick bush of green grass, his skin was green, his eyes were green, his long beard that came down to the ground was also green. He had the appearance of an immense lizard standing on its hind-paws. When the fisherman had drawn his net out of the sea, he exclaimed with great satisfaction: "Thank Heaven! Again today I shall have a splendid feast of fish!" "What a mercy that I am not a fish!" said Pinocchio to himself, regaining a little courage. The netful of fish was carried into the cave, which was dark and smoky. In the middle of the cave a large frying-pan full of oil was frying and sending out a smell of mushrooms that was suffocating. "Now we will see what fish we have taken!" said the green fisherman, and, putting into the net an enormous hand, so out of all proportion that it looked like a baker's shovel, he pulled out a handful of fish. "These fish are good!" he said, looking at them and smelling them complacently. And after he had smelled them he threw them into a pan without water. He repeated the same operation many times, and as he drew out the fish his mouth watered and he said, chuckling to himself: "What good whiting!" "What exquisite sardines!" "These soles are delicious!" "And these crabs excellent!" "What dear little anchovies!" The last to remain in the net was Pinocchio. No sooner had the fisherman taken him out than he opened his big green eyes with astonishment and cried, half frightened: "What species of fish is this? Fish of this kind I never remember to have eaten." And he looked at him again attentively and, having examined him well all over, he ended by saying: "I know: he must be a craw-fish." Pinocchio, mortified at being mistaken for a craw-fish, said in an angry voice: "A craw-fish indeed! Do you take me for a craw-fish? what treatment! Let me tell you that I am a puppet." "A puppet?" replied the fisherman. "To tell the truth, a puppet is quite a new fish for me. All the better! I shall eat you with greater pleasure." "Eat me! but will you understand that I am not a fish? Do you hear that I talk and reason as you do?" "That is quite true," said the fisherman; "and as I see that you are a fish possessed of the talent of talking and reasoning as I do, I will treat you with all the attention that is your due." "And this attention?" "In token of my friendship and particular regard, I will leave you the choice of how you would like to be cooked. Would you like to be fried in the frying-pan, or would you prefer to be stewed with tomato sauce?" "To tell the truth," answered Pinocchio, "if I am to choose, I should prefer to be set at liberty and to return home." "You are joking! Do you imagine that I would lose the opportunity of tasting such a rare fish? It is not every day, I assure you, that a puppet fish is caught in these waters. Leave it to me. I will fry you in the frying-pan with the other fish, and you will be quite satisfied. It is always consolation to be fried in company." At this speech the unhappy Pinocchio began to cry and scream and to implore for mercy, and he said, sobbing: "How much better it would have been if I had gone to school! I would listen to my companions and now I am paying for it." And he wriggled like an eel and made indescribable efforts to slip out of the clutches of the green fisherman. But it was useless: the fisherman took a long strip of rush and, having bound his hands and feet as if he had been a sausage, he threw him into the pan with the other fish. He then fetched a wooden bowl full of flour and began to flour them each in turn, and as soon as they were ready he threw them into the frying-pan. The first to dance in the boiling oil were the poor whitings; the crabs followed, then the sardines, then the soles, then the anchovies, and at last it was Pinocchio's turn. Seeing himself so near death, and such a horrible death, he was so frightened, and trembled so violently, that he had neither voice nor breath left for further entreaties. But the poor boy implored with his eyes! The green fisherman, however, without caring in the least, plunged him five or six times in the flour, until he was white from head to foot and looked like a puppet made of plaster. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIX HE RETURNS TO THE FAIRY'S HOUSE Just as the fisherman was on the point of throwing Pinocchio into the frying-pan a large dog entered the cave, enticed there by the strong and savory odor of fried fish. "Get out!" shouted the fisherman, threateningly, holding the floured puppet in his hand. But the poor dog, who was as hungry as a wolf, whined and wagged his tail as much as to say: "Give me a mouthful of fish and I will leave you in peace." "Get out, I tell you!" repeated the fisherman and he stretched out his leg to give him a kick. But the dog, who, when he was really hungry, would not stand trifling, turned upon him, growling and showing his terrible tusks. At that moment a little feeble voice was heard in the cave, saying entreatingly: "Save me, Alidoro! If you do not save me I shall be fried!" The dog recognized Pinocchio's voice and, to his extreme surprise, perceived that it proceeded from the floured bundle that the fisherman held in his hand. So what do you think he did? He made a spring, seized the bundle in his mouth, and, holding it gently between his teeth, he rushed out of the cave and was gone like a flash of lightning. The fisherman, furious at seeing a fish he was so anxious to eat snatched from him, ran after the dog, but he had not gone many steps when he was taken with a fit of coughing and had to give it up. Alidoro, when he had reached the path that led to the village, stopped and put his friend Pinocchio gently on the ground. "How much I have to thank you for!" said the puppet. "There is no necessity," replied the dog. "You saved me and I have now returned it. You know that we must all help each other in this world." "But how came you to come to the cave?" "I was lying on the shore more dead than alive when the wind brought to me the smell of fried fish. The smell excited my appetite and I followed it up. If I had arrived a second later--" "Do not mention it!" groaned Pinocchio, who was still trembling with fright. "Do not mention it! If you had arrived a second later I should by this time have been fried, eaten and digested. Brrr! It makes me shudder only to think of it!" Alidoro, laughing, extended his right paw to the puppet, who shook it heartily in token of great friendship, and they then separated. The dog took the road home, and Pinocchio, left alone, went to a cottage not far off and said to a little old man who was warming himself in the sun: "Tell me, good man, do you know anything of a poor boy called Eugene who was wounded in the head?" "The boy was brought by some fishermen to this cottage, and now--" "And now he is dead!" interrupted Pinocchio with great sorrow. "No, he is alive and has returned to his home." "Not really? not really?" cried the puppet, dancing with delight. "Then the wound was not serious?" "It might have been very serious and even fatal," answered the little old man, "for they threw a thick book bound in cardboard at his head." "And who threw it at him?" "One of his school-fellows, a certain Pinocchio." "And who is this Pinocchio?" asked the puppet, pretending ignorance. "They say that he is a bad boy, a vagabond, a regular good-for-nothing." "Calumnies! all calumnies!" "Do you know this Pinocchio?" "By sight!" answered the puppet. "And what is your opinion of him?" asked the little man. "He seems to me to be a very good boy, anxious to learn, and obedient and affectionate to his father and family." Whilst the puppet was firing off all these lies, he touched his nose and perceived that it had lengthened more than a hand. Very much alarmed he began to cry out: "Don't believe, good man, what I have been telling you. I know Pinocchio very well and I can assure you that he is a very bad boy, disobedient and idle, who, instead of going to school, runs off with his companions to amuse himself." He had hardly finished speaking when his nose became shorter and returned to the same size that it was before. "And why are you all covered with white?" asked the old man suddenly. "I will tell you. Without observing it I rubbed myself against a wall which had been freshly whitewashed," answered the puppet, ashamed to confess that he had been floured like a fish prepared for the frying-pan. "And what have you done with your jacket, your trousers, and your cap?" "I met with robbers, who took them from me. Tell me, good old man, could you perhaps give me some clothes to return home in?" "My boy, as to clothes, I have nothing but a little sack in which I keep beans. If you wish for it, take it; there it is." Pinocchio did not wait to be told twice. He took the sack at once and with a pair of scissors he cut a hole at the end and at each side, and put it on like a shirt. And with this slight clothing he set off for the village. But as he went he did not feel at all comfortable--so little so, indeed, that for a step forward he took another backwards, and he said, talking to himself: "How shall I ever present myself to my good little Fairy? What will she say when she sees me? Will she forgive me this second escapade? Oh, I am sure that she will not forgive me! And it serves me right, for I am a rascal. I am always promising to correct myself and I never keep my word!" When he reached the village it was night and very dark. A storm had come on and as the rain was coming down in torrents he went straight to the Fairy's house, resolved to knock at the door. But when he was there his courage failed him and instead of knocking he ran away some twenty paces. He returned to the door a second time and laid hold of the knocker, and, trembling, gave a little knock. He waited and waited. At last, after half an hour had passed, a window on the top floor was opened--the house was four stories high--and Pinocchio saw a big Snail with a lighted candle on her head looking out. She called to him: "Who is there at this hour?" "Is the Fairy at home?" asked the puppet. "The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened; but who are you?" "It is I." "Who is I?" "Pinocchio." "And who is Pinocchio?" "The puppet who lives in the Fairy's house." "Ah, I understand!" said the Snail. "Wait for me there. I will come down and open the door directly." "Be quick, for pity's sake, for I am dying of cold." "My boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry." An hour passed, and then two, and the door was not opened. Pinocchio, who was wet through and through, and trembling from cold and fear, at last took courage and knocked again, and this time he knocked louder. At this second knock a window on the lower story opened and the same Snail appeared at it. "Beautiful little Snail," cried Pinocchio from the street, "I have been waiting for two hours! And two hours on such a bad night seem longer than two years. Be quick, for pity's sake." "My boy," answered the calm little animal--"my boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry." And the window was shut again. Shortly afterwards midnight struck; then one o'clock, then two o'clock, and the door remained still closed. Pinocchio at last, losing all patience, seized the knocker in a rage, intending to give a blow that would resound through the house. But the knocker, which was iron, turned suddenly into an eel and, slipping out of his hands, disappeared in the stream of water that ran down the middle of the street. "Ah! is that it?" shouted Pinocchio, blind with rage. "Since the knocker has disappeared, I will kick instead with all my might." And, drawing a little back, he gave a tremendous kick against the house door. The blow was indeed so violent that his foot went through the wood and stuck; and when he tried to draw it back again it was trouble thrown away, for it remained fixed like a nail that has been hammered down. Think of poor Pinocchio! He was obliged to spend the remainder of the night with one foot on the ground and the other in the air. The following morning at daybreak the door was at last opened. The clever little Snail had taken only nine hours to come down from the fourth story to the house-door. It is evident that her exertions must have been great. "What are you doing with your foot stuck in the door?" she asked the puppet. "It was an accident. Do try, beautiful little Snail, if you cannot release me from this torture." "My boy, that is the work of a carpenter, and I have never been a carpenter." "Beg the Fairy from me!" "The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened." "But what do you suppose that I can do all day nailed to this door?" "Amuse yourself by counting the ants that pass down the street." "Bring me at least something to eat, for I am quite exhausted." "At once," said the Snail. In fact, after three hours and a half she returned to Pinocchio carrying a silver tray on her head. The tray contained a loaf of bread, a roast chicken, and four ripe apricots. "Here is the breakfast that the Fairy has sent you," said the Snail. The puppet felt very much comforted at the sight of these good things. But when he began to eat them, what was his disgust at making the discovery that the bread was plaster, the chicken cardboard, and the four apricots painted alabaster. He wanted to cry. In his desperation he tried to throw away the tray and all that was on it; but instead, either from grief or exhaustion, he fainted away. When he came to himself he found that he was lying on a sofa, and the Fairy was beside him. "I will pardon you once more," the Fairy said, "but woe to you if you behave badly a third time!" Pinocchio promised and swore that he would study, and that for the future he would always conduct himself well. And he kept his word for the remainder of the year. Indeed, at the examinations before the holidays, he had the honor of being the first in the school, and his behavior in general was so satisfactory and praiseworthy that the Fairy was very much pleased, and said to him: "Tomorrow your wish shall be gratified." "And that is?" "Tomorrow you shall cease to be a wooden puppet and you shall become a boy." No one who had not witnessed it could ever imagine Pinocchio's joy at this long-sighed-for good fortune. All his school-fellows were to be invited for the following day to a grand breakfast at the Fairy's house, that they might celebrate together the great event. The Fairy had prepared two hundred cups of coffee and milk, and four hundred rolls cut and buttered on each side. The day promised to be most happy and delightful, but-- Unfortunately in the lives of puppets there is always a "but" that spoils everything. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXX THE "LAND OF BOOBIES" Pinocchio, as was natural, asked the Fairy's permission to go round the town to give out the invitations, and the Fairy said to him: "Go, if you like, and invite your companions for the breakfast tomorrow, but remember to return home before dark. Have you understood?" "I promise to be back in an hour," answered the puppet. "Take care, Pinocchio! Boys are always very ready to promise, but generally they are little given to keep their word." "But I am not like other boys. When I say a thing, I do it." "We shall see. If you are disobedient, so much the worse for you." "Why?" "Because boys who do not listen to the advice of those who know more than they do always meet with some misfortune or other." "I have experienced that," said Pinocchio, "but I shall never make that mistake again." "We shall see if that is true." Without saying more the puppet took leave of his good Fairy, who was like a mamma to him, and went out of the house singing and dancing. In less than an hour all his friends were invited. Some accepted at once heartily; others at first required pressing; but when they heard that the rolls to be eaten with the coffee were to be buttered on both sides they ended by saying: "We will come also, to do you a pleasure." Now I must tell you that amongst Pinocchio's friends and school-fellows there was one that he greatly preferred and was very fond of. This boy's name was Romeo, but he always went by the nickname of Candlewick, because he was so thin, straight and bright, like the new wick of a little nightlight. Candlewick was the laziest and the naughtiest boy in the school, but Pinocchio was devoted to him. He had indeed gone at once to his house to invite him to the breakfast, but he had not found him. He returned a second time, but Candlewick was not there. He went a third time, but it was in vain. Where could he search for him? He looked here, there, and everywhere, and at last he saw him hiding on the porch of a peasant's cottage. "What are you doing there?" asked Pinocchio, coming up to him. "I am waiting for midnight, to start away." "And where are you going?" "I am going to live in a country--the most delightful country in the world: a real land of sweetmeats!" "And what is it called?" "It is called the 'Land of Boobies.' Why do you not come, too?" "I? No, never!" "You are wrong, Pinocchio. If you do not come you will repent it. Where could you find a better country for us boys? There are no schools there; there are no masters; there are no books. In that delightful land nobody ever studies. On Saturday there is never school, and every week consists of six Saturdays and one Sunday. Only think, the autumn holidays begin on the first of January and finish on the last day of December. That is the country for me! That is what all civilized countries should be like!" "But how are the days spent in the 'Land of Boobies'?" They are spent in play and amusement from morning till night. When night comes you go to bed, and recommence the same life in the morning. What do you think of it?" "Hum!" said Pinocchio, and he shook his head slightly, as much as to say, "That is a life that I also would willingly lead." "Well, will you go with me? Yes or no? Resolve quickly." "No, no, no, and again no. I promised my good Fairy to become a well conducted boy, and I will keep my word. And as I see that the sun is setting I must leave you at once and run away. Good-bye, and a pleasant journey to you." "Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?" "Home. My good Fairy wishes me to be back before dark." "Wait another two minutes." "It will make me too late." "Only two minutes." "And if the Fairy scolds me?" "Let her scold. When she has scolded well she will hold her tongue," said that rascal Candlewick. "And what are you going to do? Are you going alone or with companions?" "Alone? Indeed not, there will be more than a hundred boys." "And do you make the journey on foot?" "A coach will pass by shortly which is to take me to that happy country." "What would I not give for the coach to pass by now!" "Why?" "That I might see you all start together." "Stay here a little longer and you will see us." "No, no, I must go home." "Wait another two minutes." "I have already delayed too long. The Fairy will be anxious about me." "Poor Fairy! Is she afraid that the bats will eat you?" "But now," continued Pinocchio, "are you really certain that there are no schools in that country?" "Not even the shadow of one." "And no masters either?" "Not one." "And no one is ever made to study?" "Never, never, never!" "What a delightful country!" said Pinocchio, his mouth watering. "What a delightful country! I have never been there, but I can quite imagine it." "Why will you not come also?" "It is useless to tempt me. I promised my good Fairy to become a sensible boy, and I will not break my word." "Good-bye, then, and give my compliments to all the boys at school, if you meet them in the street." "Good-bye, Candlewick; a pleasant journey to you; amuse yourself, and think sometimes of your friends." Thus saying, the puppet made two steps to go, but then stopped, and, turning to his friend, he inquired: "But are you quite certain that in that country all the weeks consist of six Saturdays and one Sunday?" "Most certainly." "But do you know for certain that the holidays begin on the first of January and finish on the last day of December?" "Assuredly." "What a delightful country!" repeated Pinocchio, looking enchanted. Then, with a resolute air, he added in a great hurry: "This time really good-bye, and a pleasant journey to you." "Good-bye." "When do you start?" "Shortly." "What a pity! If really it wanted only an hour to the time of your start, I should almost be tempted to wait." "And the Fairy?" "It is already late. If I return home an hour sooner or later it will be all the same." "Poor Pinocchio! And if the Fairy scolds you?" "I must have patience! I will let her scold. When she has scolded well she will hold her tongue." In the meantime night had come on and it was quite dark. Suddenly they saw in the distance a small light moving and they heard a noise of talking, and the sound of a trumpet, but so small and feeble that it resembled the hum of a mosquito. "Here it is!" shouted Candlewick, jumping to his feet. "What is it?" asked Pinocchio in a whisper. "It is the coach coming to take me. Now will you come, yes or no?" "But is it really true," asked the puppet, "that in that country boys are never obliged to study?" "Never, never, never!" "What a delightful country! What a delightful country! What a delightful country!" [Illustration: THEY THOUGHT IT WOULD BE MORE COMFORTABLE TO GET ON THE TUNNY'S BACK] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXI PINOCCHIO ENJOYS FIVE MONTHS OF HAPPINESS At last the coach arrived, and it arrived without making the slightest noise, for its wheels were bound round with flax and rags. It was drawn by twelve pairs of donkeys, all the same size but of different colors. Some were gray, some white, some brindled like pepper and salt, and others had large stripes of yellow and blue. But the most extraordinary thing was this: the twelve pairs, that is, the twenty-four donkeys, instead of being shod like other beasts of burden, had on their feet men's boots made of white kid. And the coachman? Picture to yourself a little man broader than he was long, flabby and greasy like a lump of butter, with a small round face like an orange, a little mouth that was always laughing, and a soft, caressing voice like a cat when she is trying to insinuate herself into the good graces of the mistress of the house. All the boys vied with each other in taking places in his coach, to be conducted to the "Land of Boobies." The coach was, in fact, quite full of boys between eight and fourteen years old, heaped one upon another like herrings in a barrel. They were uncomfortable, packed closely together and could hardly breathe; but nobody said "Oh!"--nobody grumbled. The consolation of knowing that in a few hours they would reach a country where there were no books, no schools, and no masters, made them so happy and resigned that they felt neither fatigue nor inconvenience, neither hunger, nor thirst, nor want of sleep. As soon as the coach had drawn up the little man turned to Candlewick and with a thousand smirks and grimaces said to him, smiling: "Tell me, my fine boy, would you also like to go to that fortunate country?" "I certainly wish to go." "But I must warn you, my dear child, that there is not a place left in the coach. You can see for yourself that it is quite full." "No matter," replied Candlewick, "if there is no place inside, I will manage to sit on the springs." And, giving a leap, he seated himself astride on the springs. "And you, my love!" said the little man, turning in a flattering manner to Pinocchio, "what do you intend to do? Are you coming with us or are you going to remain behind?" "I remain behind," answered Pinocchio. "I am going home. I intend to study, as all well conducted boys do." "Much good may it do you!" "Pinocchio!" called out Candlewick, "listen to me: come with us and we shall have such fun." "No, no, no!" "Come with us and we shall have such fun," shouted in chorus a hundred voices from the inside of the coach. "But if I come with you, what will my good Fairy say?" said the puppet, who was beginning to yield. "Do not trouble your head with melancholy thoughts. Consider only that we are going to a country where we shall be at liberty to run riot from morning till night." Pinocchio did not answer, but he sighed; he sighed again; he sighed for the third time, and he said finally: "Make a little room for me, for I am coming, too." "The places are all full," replied the little man; "but, to show you how welcome you are, you shall have my seat on the box." "And you?" "Oh, I will go on foot." "No, indeed, I could not allow that. I would rather mount one of these donkeys," cried Pinocchio. Approaching the right-hand donkey of the first pair, he attempted to mount him, but the animal turned on him and, giving him a great blow in the stomach, rolled him over with his legs in the air. You can imagine the impertinent and immoderate laughter of all the boys who witnessed this scene. But the little man did not laugh. He approached the rebellious donkey and, pretending to give him a kiss, bit off half of his ear. Pinocchio in the meantime had gotten up from the ground in a fury and, with a spring, he seated himself on the poor animal's back. And he sprang so well that the boys stopped laughing and began to shout: "Hurrah, Pinocchio!" and they clapped their hands and applauded him as if they would never finish. Now that Pinocchio was mounted, the coach started. Whilst the donkeys were galloping and the coach was rattling over the stones of the high road, the puppet thought that he heard a low voice that was scarcely audible saying to him: "Poor fool! you would follow your own way, but you will repent it!" Pinocchio, feeling almost frightened, looked from side to side to try and discover where these words could come from, but he saw nobody. The donkeys galloped, the coach rattled, the boys inside slept, Candlewick snored like a dormouse, and the little man seated on the box sang between his teeth: "During the night all sleep, But I sleep never." After they had gone another mile, Pinocchio heard the same little low voice saying to him: "Bear it in mind, simpleton! Boys who refuse to study and turn their backs upon books, schools and masters, to pass their time in play and amusement, sooner or later come to a bad end. I know it by experience, and I can tell you. A day will come when you will weep as I am weeping now, but then it will be too late!" On hearing these words whispered very softly, the puppet, more frightened than ever, sprang down from the back of his donkey and went and took hold of his mouth. Imagine his surprise when he found that the donkey was crying--crying like a boy! "Eh! Sir Coachman," cried Pinocchio to the little man, "here is an extraordinary thing! This donkey is crying." "Let him cry; he will laugh when he is a bridegroom." "But have you by chance taught him to talk?" "No; but he spent three years in a company of learned dogs, and he learned to mutter a few words." "Poor beast!" "Come, come," said the little man, "don't let us waste time in seeing a donkey cry. Mount him and let us go on: the night is cold and the road is long." Pinocchio obeyed without another word. In the morning about daybreak they arrived safely in the "Land of Boobies." It was a country unlike any other country in the world. The population was composed entirely of boys. The oldest were fourteen, and the youngest scarcely eight years old. In the streets there was such merriment, noise and shouting that it was enough to turn anybody's head. There were troops of boys everywhere. Some were playing with nuts, some with battledores, some with balls. Some rode velocipedes, others wooden horses. A party were playing at hide and seek, a few were chasing each other. Some were reciting, some singing, some leaping. Some were amusing themselves with walking on their hands with their feet in the air; others were trundling hoops or strutting about dressed as generals, wearing leaf helmets and commanding a squadron of cardboard soldiers. Some were laughing, some shouting, some were calling out; others clapped their hands, or whistled, or clucked like a hen who has just laid an egg. In every square, canvas theaters had been erected and they were crowded with boys from morning till evening. On the walls of the houses there were inscriptions written in charcoal: "Long live playthings, we will have no more schools; down with arithmetic," and similar other fine sentiments, all in bad spelling. Pinocchio, Candlewick and the other boys who had made the journey with the little man, had scarcely set foot in the town before they were in the thick of the tumult, and I need not tell you that in a few minutes they had made acquaintance with everybody. Where could happier or more contented boys be found? In the midst of continual games and every variety of amusement, the hours, the days and the weeks passed like lightning. "Oh, what a delightful life!" said Pinocchio, whenever by chance he met Candlewick. "See, then, if I was not right?" replied the other. "And to think that you did not want to come! To think that you had taken it into your head to return home to your Fairy, and to lose your time in studying! If you are this moment free from the bother of books and school, you must acknowledge that you owe it to me, to my advice, and to my persuasions. It is only friends who know how to render such great services." "It is true, Candlewick! If I am now a really happy boy, it is all your doing. But do you know what the master used to say when he talked to me of you? He always said to me: 'Do not associate with that rascal Candlewick, for he is a bad companion, and will only lead you into mischief!'" "Poor master!" replied the other, shaking his head. "I know only too well that he disliked me, and amused himself by calumniating me; but I am generous and I forgive him!" "Noble soul!" said Pinocchio, embracing his friend affectionately and kissing him between the eyes. This delightful life had gone on for five months. The days had been entirely spent in play and amusement, without a thought of books or school, when one morning Pinocchio awoke to a most disagreeable surprise that put him into a very bad humor. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXII PINOCCHIO TURNS INTO A DONKEY The surprise was that Pinocchio, when he awoke, scratched his head, and in scratching his head he discovered, to his great astonishment, that his ears had grown more than a hand. You know that the puppet from his birth had always had very small ears--so small that they were not visible to the naked eye. You can imagine then what he felt when he found that during the night his ears had become so long that they seemed like two brooms. He went at once in search of a glass that he might look at himself, but, not being able to find one, he filled the basin of his washing-stand with water, and he saw reflected what he certainly would never have wished to see. He saw his head embellished with a magnificent pair of donkey's ears! Only think of poor Pinocchio's sorrow, shame and despair! He began to cry and roar, and he beat his head against the wall, but the more he cried the longer his ears grew; they grew, and grew, and became hairy towards the points. At the sound of his loud outcries a beautiful little Marmot that lived on the first floor came into the room. Seeing the puppet in such grief she asked earnestly: "What has happened to you, my dear fellow-lodger?" "I am ill, my dear little Marmot, very ill, and my illness frightens me. Do you understand counting a pulse?" "A little." "Then feel and see if by chance I have got fever." The little Marmot raised her right fore-paw, and, after having felt Pinocchio's pulse, she said to him, sighing: "My friend, I am grieved to be obliged to give you bad news!" "What is it?" "You have got a very bad fever!" "What fever is it?" "It is donkey fever." "That is a fever that I do not understand," said the puppet, but he understood it only too well. "Then I will explain it to you," said the Marmot. "You must know that in two or three hours you will be no longer a puppet, or a boy." "Then what shall I be?" "In two or three hours you will become really and truly a little donkey, like those that draw carts and carry cabbages and salad to market." "Oh, unfortunate that I am! unfortunate that I am!" cried Pinocchio, seizing his two ears with his hands and pulling them and tearing them furiously as if they had been some one else's ears. "My dear boy," said the Marmot, by way of consoling him, "you can do nothing. It is destiny. It is written in the decrees of wisdom that all boys who are lazy, and who take a dislike to books, to schools, and to masters, and who pass their time in amusement, games, and diversions, must end sooner or later by becoming transformed into so many little donkeys." "But is it really so?" asked the puppet, sobbing. "It is indeed only too true! And tears are now useless. You should have thought of it sooner!" "But it was not my fault; believe me, little Marmot, the fault was all Candlewick's!" "And who is this Candlewick?" "One of my school-fellows. I wanted to return home; I wanted to be obedient. I wished to study, but Candlewick said to me: 'Why should you bother yourself by studying? Why should you go to school? Come with us instead to the "Land of Boobies"; there we shall none of us have to learn; there we shall amuse ourselves from morning to night, and we shall always be merry'." "And why did you follow the advice of that false friend? of that bad companion?" "Why? Because, my dear little Marmot, I am a puppet with no sense, and with no heart. Ah! if I had had the least heart I should never have left that good Fairy who loved me like a mamma, and who had done so much for me! And I would be no longer a puppet, for I would by this time have become a little boy like so many others: But if I meet Candlewick, woe to him! He shall hear what I think of him!" And he turned to go out. But when he reached the door he remembered his donkey's ears, and, feeling ashamed to show them in public, what do you think he did? He took a big cotton cap and, putting it on his head, he pulled it well down over the point of his nose. He then set out and went everywhere in search of Candlewick. He looked for him in the streets, in the squares, in the little theaters, in every possible place, but he could not find him. He inquired for him of everybody he met, but no one had seen him. He then went to seek him at his house and, having reached the door, he knocked. "Who is there?" asked Candlewick from within. "It is I!" answered the puppet. "Wait a moment and I will let you in." After half an hour the door was opened and imagine Pinocchio's feelings when, upon going into the room, he saw his friend Candlewick with a big cotton cap on his head which came down over his nose. At the sight of the cap Pinocchio felt almost consoled and thought to himself: "Has my friend got the same illness that I have? Is he also suffering from donkey fever?" And, pretending to have observed nothing, he asked him, smiling: "How are you, my dear Candlewick?" "Very well; as well as a mouse in a Parmesan cheese." "Are you saying that seriously?" "Why should I tell you a lie?" "Excuse me; but why, then, do you keep that cotton cap on your head which covers up your ears?" "The doctor ordered me to wear it because I have hurt this knee. And you, dear puppet, why have you got on that cotton cap pulled down over your nose?" "The doctor prescribed it because I have grazed my foot." "Oh, poor Pinocchio!" "Oh, poor Candlewick!" After these words a long silence followed, during which the two friends did nothing but look mockingly at each other. At last the puppet said in a soft voice to his companion: "Satisfy my curiosity, my dear Candlewick: have you ever suffered from disease of the ears?" "Never! And you?" "Never. Only since this morning one of my ears aches." "Mine is also paining me." "You also? And which of your ears hurts you?" "Both of them. And you?" "Both of them. Can we have got the same illness?" "I fear so." "Will you do me a kindness, Candlewick?" "Willingly! With all my heart." "Will you let me see your ears?" "Why not? But first, my dear Pinocchio, I should like to see yours." "No: you must be first." "No, dear. First you and then I!" "Well," said the puppet, "let us come to an agreement like good friends." "Let us hear it." "We will both take off our caps at the same moment. Do you agree?" "I agree." "Then, attention!" And Pinocchio began to count in a loud voice: "One, two, three!" At the word "Three!" the two boys took off their caps and threw them into the air. And then a scene followed that would seem incredible if it were not true. That is, that when Pinocchio and Candlewick discovered that they were both struck with the same misfortune, instead of feeling full of mortification and grief, they began to prick their ungainly ears and to make a thousand antics, and they ended by going into bursts of laughter. And they laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until they had to hold themselves together. But in the midst of their merriment Candlewick suddenly stopped, staggered, and, changing color, said to his friend: "Help, help, Pinocchio!" "What is the matter with you?" "Alas, I cannot any longer stand upright." "Neither can I," exclaimed Pinocchio, tottering and beginning to cry. And whilst they were talking, they both doubled up and began to run round the room on their hands and feet. And as they ran, their hands became hoofs, their faces lengthened into muzzles, and their backs became covered with a light gray hairy coat sprinkled with black. But do you know what was the worst moment for these two wretched boys? The worst and the most humiliating moment was when their tails grew. Vanquished by shame and sorrow, they wept and lamented their fate. Oh, if they had but been wiser! But instead of sighs and lamentations they could only bray like asses; and they brayed loudly and said in chorus: "Hee-haw!" Whilst this was going on some one knocked at the door and a voice on the outside said: "Open the door! I am the little man, I am the coachman who brought you to this country. Open at once, or it will be the worse for you!" [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXIII PINOCCHIO IS TRAINED FOR THE CIRCUS Finding that the door remained shut the little man burst it open with a violent kick and, coming into the room, he said to Pinocchio and Candlewick with his usual little laugh: "Well done, boys! You brayed well, and I recognized you by your voices. That is why I am here." At these words the two little donkeys were quite stupefied and stood with their heads down, their ears lowered, and their tails between their legs. At first the little man stroked and caressed them; then, taking out a currycomb, he currycombed them well. And when by this process he had polished them till they shone like two mirrors, he put a halter round their necks and led them to the market-place, in hopes of selling them and making a good profit. And indeed buyers were not wanting. Candlewick was bought by a peasant whose donkey had died the previous day. Pinocchio was sold to the director of a company of buffoons and tight-rope dancers, who bought him that he might teach him to leap and to dance with the other animals belonging to the company. And now, my little readers, you will have understood the fine trade that little man pursued. The wicked little monster, who had a face all milk and honey, made frequent journeys round the world with his coach. As he went along he collected, with promises and flattery, all the idle boys who had taken a dislike to books and school. As soon as his coach was full he conducted them to the "Land of Boobies," that they might pass their time in games, in uproar, and in amusement. When these poor, deluded boys, from continual play and no study, had become so many little donkeys, he took possession of them with great delight and satisfaction, and carried them off to the fairs and markets to be sold. And in this way he had in a few years made heaps of money and had become a millionaire. What became of Candlewick I do not know, but I do know that Pinocchio from the very first day had to endure a very hard, laborious life. When he was put into his stall his master filled the manger with straw; but Pinocchio, having tried a mouthful, spat it out again. Then his master, grumbling, filled the manger with hay; but neither did the hay please him. "Ah!" exclaimed his master in a passion. "Does not hay please you either? Leave it to me, my fine donkey; if you are so full of caprices I will find a way to cure you!" And by way of correcting him he struck his legs with his whip. Pinocchio began to cry and to bray with pain, and he said, braying: "Hee-haw! I cannot digest straw!" "Then eat hay!" said his master, who understood perfectly the asinine dialect. "Hee-haw! hay gives me a pain in my stomach." "Do you mean to pretend that a little donkey like you must be kept on breasts of chickens, and capons in jelly?" asked his master, getting more and more angry, and whipping him again. At this second whipping Pinocchio prudently held his tongue and said nothing more. The stable was then shut and Pinocchio was left alone. He had not eaten for many hours and he began to yawn from hunger. And when he yawned he opened a mouth that seemed as wide as an oven. At last, finding nothing else in the manger, he resigned himself and chewed a little hay; and after he had chewed it well, he shut his eyes and swallowed it. "This hay is not bad," he said to himself; "but how much better it would have been if I had gone on with my studies! Instead of hay I might now be eating a hunch of new bread and a fine slice of sausage. But I must have patience!" The next morning when he woke he looked in the manger for a little more hay; but he found none, for he had eaten it all during the night. Then he took a mouthful of chopped straw, but whilst he was chewing it he had to acknowledge that the taste of chopped straw did not in the least resemble a savory dish of macaroni or pie. "But I must have patience!" he repeated as he went on chewing. "May my example serve at least as a warning to all disobedient boys who do not want to study. Patience!" "Patience indeed!" shouted his master, coming at that moment into the stable. "Do you think, my little donkey, that I bought you only to give you food and drink? I bought you to make you work, and that you might earn money for me. Up, then, at once! you must come with me into the circus, and there I will teach you to jump through hoops, to go through frames of paper head foremost, to dance waltzes and polkas, and to stand upright on your hind legs." Poor Pinocchio, either by love or by force, had to learn all these fine things. But it took him three months before he had learned them, and he got many a whipping that nearly took off his skin. At last a day came when his master was able to announce that he would give a really extraordinary representation. The many colored placards stuck on the street corners were thus worded: GREAT FULL DRESS REPRESENTATION TONIGHT WILL TAKE PLACE THE USUAL FEATS AND SURPRISING PERFORMANCES EXECUTED BY ALL THE ARTISTS AND BY ALL THE HORSES OF THE COMPANY AND MOREOVER THE FAMOUS LITTLE DONKEY PINOCCHIO CALLED THE STAR OF THE DANCE WILL MAKE HIS FIRST APPEARANCE THE THEATER WILL BE BRILLIANTLY ILLUMINATED [Illustration: In Less Than an Hour All His Friends Were Invited] On that evening, as you may imagine, an hour before the play was to begin the theater was crammed. There was not a place to be had either in the pit or the stalls, or in the boxes even, by paying its weight in gold. The benches round the circus were crowded with children and with boys of all ages, who were in a fever of impatience to see the famous little donkey Pinocchio dance. When the first part of the performance was over, the director of the company, dressed in a black coat, white breeches, and big leather boots that came above his knees, presented himself to the public, and, after making a profound bow, he began with much solemnity the following ridiculous speech: "Respectable public, ladies and gentlemen! The humble undersigned being a passer-by in this illustrious city, I have wished to procure for myself the honor, not to say the pleasure, of presenting to this intelligent and distinguished audience a celebrated little donkey, who has already had the honor of dancing in the presence of His Majesty the Emperor of all the principal courts of Europe. "And, thanking you, I beg of you to help us with your inspiring presence and to be indulgent to us." This speech was received with much laughter and applause, but the applause redoubled and became tumultuous when the little donkey Pinocchio made his appearance in the middle of the circus. He was decked out for the occasion. He had a new bridle of polished leather with brass buckles and studs, and two white camelias in his ears. His mane was divided and curled, and each curl was tied with bows of colored ribbon. He had a girth of gold and silver round his body, and his tail was plaited with amaranth and blue velvet ribbons. He was, in fact, a little donkey to fall in love with! The director, in presenting him to the public, added these few words: "My respectable auditors! I am not here to tell you falsehoods of the great difficulties that I have overcome in understanding and subjugating this mammifer, whilst he was grazing at liberty amongst the mountains in the plains of the torrid zone. I beg you will observe the wild rolling of his eyes. Every means having been tried in vain to tame him, and to accustom him to the life of domestic quadrupeds, I was often forced to have recourse to the convincing argument of the whip. But all my goodness to him, instead of gaining his affections, has, on the contrary, increased his viciousness. However, following the system of Gall, I discovered in his cranium a bony cartilage that the Faculty of Medicine of Paris has itself recognized as the regenerating bulb of the hair, and of dance. For this reason I have not only taught him to dance, but also to jump through hoops and through frames covered with paper. Admire him, and then pass your opinion on him! But before taking my leave of you, permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to invite you to the daily performance that will take place tomorrow evening; but in case the weather should threaten rain, the performance will be postponed till tomorrow morning at 11 ante-meridian of post-meridian." Here the director made another profound bow, and, then turning to Pinocchio, he said: "Courage, Pinocchio! before you begin your feats make your bow to this distinguished audience--ladies, gentlemen, and children." Pinocchio obeyed, and bent both his knees till they touched the ground, and remained kneeling until the director, cracking his whip, shouted to him: "At a foot's pace!" Then the little donkey raised himself on his four legs and began to walk round the theater, keeping at a foot's pace. After a little the director cried: "Trot!" and Pinocchio, obeying the order, changed to a trot. "Gallop!" and Pinocchio broke into a gallop. "Full gallop!" and Pinocchio went full gallop. But whilst he was going full speed like a race horse the director, raising his arm in the air, fired off a pistol. At the shot the little donkey, pretending to be wounded, fell his whole length in the circus, as if he were really dying. As he got up from the ground amidst an outburst of applause, shouts and clapping of hands, he naturally raised his head and looked up, and he saw in one of the boxes a beautiful lady who wore round her neck a thick gold chain from which hung a medallion. On the medallion was painted the portrait of a puppet. "That is my portrait! That lady is the Fairy!" said Pinocchio to himself, recognizing her immediately; and, overcome with delight, he tried to cry: "Oh, my little Fairy! Oh, my little Fairy!" But instead of these words a bray came from his throat, so sonorous and so prolonged that all the spectators laughed, and more especially all the children who were in the theater. Then the director, to give him a lesson, and to make him understand that it is not good manners to bray before the public, gave him a blow on his nose with the handle of his whip. The poor little donkey put his tongue out an inch and licked his nose for at least five minutes, thinking perhaps that it would ease the pain he felt. But what was his despair when, looking up a second time, he saw that the box was empty and that the Fairy had disappeared! He thought he was going to die; his eyes filled with tears and he began to weep. Nobody, however, noticed it, and least of all the director who, cracking his whip, shouted: "Courage, Pinocchio! Now let the audience see how gracefully you can jump through the hoops." Pinocchio tried two or three times, but each time that he came in front of the hoop, instead of going through it, he found it easier to go under it. At last he made a leap and went through it, but his right leg unfortunately caught in the hoop, and that caused him to fall to the ground doubled up in a heap on the other side. When he got up he was lame and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to return to the stable. "Bring out Pinocchio! We want the little donkey! Bring out the little donkey!" shouted all the boys in the theater, touched and sorry for the sad accident. But the little donkey was seen no more that evening. The following morning the veterinary, that is, the doctor of animals, paid him a visit, and declared that he would remain lame for life. The director then said to the stable-boy: "What do you suppose I can do with a lame donkey? He would eat food without earning it. Take him to the market and sell him." When they reached the market a purchaser was found at once. He asked the stable-boy: "How much do you want for that lame donkey?" "Twenty dollars." "I will give you two dollars. Don't suppose that I am buying him to make use of; I am buying him solely for his skin. I see that his skin is very hard and I intend to make a drum with it for the band of my village." Imagine poor Pinocchio's feelings when he heard that he was destined to become a drum! As soon as the purchaser had paid his two dollars he conducted the little donkey to the seashore. He then put a stone round his neck and, tying a rope, the end of which he held in his hand, round his leg, he gave him a sudden push and threw him into the water. Pinocchio, weighted down by the stone, went at once to the bottom, and his owner, keeping tight hold of the cord, sat down quietly on a piece of rock to wait until the little donkey was drowned, intending then to skin him. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXIV PINOCCHIO IS SWALLOWED BY THE DOG-FISH After Pinocchio had been fifty minutes under the water, his purchaser said aloud to himself: "My poor little lame donkey must by this time be quite drowned. I will therefore pull him out of the water, and I will make a fine drum of his skin." And he began to haul in the rope that he had tied to the donkey's leg, and he hauled, and hauled, and hauled, until at last--what do you think appeared above the water? Instead of a little dead donkey he saw a live puppet, who was wriggling like an eel. Seeing this wooden puppet, the poor man thought he was dreaming, and, struck dumb with astonishment, he remained with his mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head. Having somewhat recovered from his first stupefaction, he asked in a quavering voice: "And the little donkey that I threw into the sea? What has become of him?" "I am the little donkey!" said Pinocchio, laughing. "You?" "I." "Ah, you young scamp!! Do you dare to make game of me?" "To make game of you? Quite the contrary, my dear master? I am speaking seriously." "But how can you, who but a short time ago were a little donkey, have become a wooden puppet, only from having been left in the water?" "It must have been the effect of sea water. The sea makes extraordinary changes." "Beware, puppet, beware! Don't imagine that you can amuse yourself at my expense. Woe to you if I lose patience!" "Well, master, do you wish to know the true story? If you will set my leg free I will tell it you." The good man, who was curious to hear the true story, immediately untied the knot that kept him bound; and Pinocchio, finding himself free as a bird in the air, commenced as follows: "You must know that I was once a puppet as I am now, and I was on the point of becoming a boy like the many who are in the world. But instead, induced by my dislike for study and the advice of bad companions, I ran away from home. One fine day when I awoke I found myself changed into a donkey with long ears, and a long tail. What a disgrace it was to me!--a disgrace, dear master, that even your worst enemy would not inflict upon you! Taken to the market to be sold I was bought by the director of an equestrian company, who took it into his head to make a famous dancer of me, and a famous leaper through hoops. But one night during a performance I had a bad fall in the circus and lamed both my legs. Then the director, not knowing what to do with a lame donkey, sent me to be sold, and you were the purchaser!" "Only too true. And I paid two dollars for you. And now, who will give me back my good money?" "And why did you buy me? You bought me to make a drum of my skin!" "Only too true! And now, where shall I find another skin?" "Don't despair, master. There are such a number of little donkeys in the world!" "Tell me, you impertinent rascal, does your story end here?" "No," answered the puppet; "I have another two words to say and then I shall have finished. After you had bought me you brought me to this place to kill me; but then, yielding to a feeling of compassion, you preferred to tie a stone round my neck and to throw me into the sea. This humane feeling does you great honor and I shall always be grateful to you for it. But, nevertheless, dear master, this time you made your calculations without considering the Fairy!" "And who is the Fairy?" "She is my mamma and she resembles all other good mammas who care for their children, and who never lose sight of them, but help them lovingly, even when, on account of their foolishness and evil conduct, they deserve to be abandoned and left to themselves. Well, then, the good Fairy, as soon as she saw that I was in danger of drowning, sent immediately an immense shoal of fish, who, believing me really to be a little dead donkey, began to eat me. And what mouthfuls they took; I should never have thought that fish were greedier than boys! Some ate my ears, some my muzzle, others my neck and mane, some the skin of my legs, some my coat. Amongst them there was a little fish so polite that he even condescended to eat my tail." "From this time forth," said his purchaser, horrified, "I swear that I will never touch fish. It would be too dreadful to open a mullet, or a fried whiting, and to find inside a donkey's tail!" "I agree with you," said the puppet, laughing. "However, I must tell you that when the fish had finished eating the donkey's hide that covered me from head to foot, they naturally reached the bone, or rather the wood, for, as you see, I am made of the hardest wood. But after giving a few bites they soon discovered that I was not a morsel for their teeth, and, disgusted with such indigestible food, they went off, some in one direction and some in another, without so much as saying 'Thank you' to me. And now, at last, I have told you how it was that when you pulled up the rope you found a live puppet instead of a dead donkey." "I laugh at your story," cried the man in a rage. "I know only that I spent two dollars to buy you, and I will have my money back. Shall I tell you what I will do? I will take you back to the market and I will sell you by weight as seasoned wood for lighting fires." "Sell me if you like; I am content," said Pinocchio. But as he said it he made a spring and plunged into the water. Swimming gaily away from the shore, he called to his poor owner: "Good-bye, master; if you should be in want of a skin to make a drum, remember me." And he laughed and went on swimming, and after a while he turned again and shouted louder: "Good-bye, master; if you should be in want of a little well seasoned wood for lighting the fire, remember me." In the twinkling of an eye he had swum so far off that he was scarcely visible. All that could be seen of him was a little black speck on the surface of the sea that from time to time lifted its legs out of the water and leaped and capered like a dolphin enjoying himself. Whilst Pinocchio was swimming, he knew not whither, he saw in the midst of the sea a rock that seemed to be made of white marble, and on the summit there stood a beautiful little goat who bleated lovingly and made signs to him to approach. But the most singular thing was this. The little goat's hair, instead of being white or black, or a mixture of two colors as is usual with other goats, was blue, and a very vivid blue, greatly resembling the hair of the beautiful Child. I leave you to imagine how rapidly poor Pinocchio's heart began to beat. He swam with redoubled strength and energy towards the white rock; and he was already half-way there when he saw, rising up out of the water and coming to meet him, the horrible head of a sea-monster. His wide-open, cavernous mouth and his three rows of enormous teeth would have been terrifying to look at even in a picture. And do you know what this sea-monster was? This sea-monster was neither more nor less than that gigantic Dog-Fish, who has been mentioned many times in this story, and who, for his slaughter and for his insatiable voracity, had been named the "Attila of Fish and Fishermen." Only to think of poor Pinocchio's terror at the sight of the monster. He tried to avoid it, to change his direction; he tried to escape, but that immense, wide-open mouth came towards him with the velocity of an arrow. "Be quick, Pinocchio, for pity's sake!" cried the beautiful little goat, bleating. And Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his chest, his legs, and his feet. "Quick, Pinocchio, the monster is close upon you!" And Pinocchio swam quicker than ever, and flew on with the rapidity of a ball from a gun. He had nearly reached the rock, and the little goat, leaning over towards the sea, had stretched out her fore-legs to help him out of the water! But it was too late! The monster had overtaken him and, drawing in his breath, he sucked in the poor puppet as he would have sucked a hen's egg; and he swallowed him with such violence and avidity that Pinocchio, in falling into the Dog-Fish's stomach, received such a blow that he remained unconscious for a quarter of an hour afterwards. When he came to himself again after the shock he could not in the least imagine in what world he was. All around him it was quite dark, and the darkness was so black and so profound that it seemed to him that he had fallen head downwards into an inkstand full of ink. He listened, but he could hear no noise; only from time to time great gusts of wind blew in his face. At first he could not understand where the wind came from, but at last he discovered that it came out of the monster's lungs. For you must know that the Dog-Fish suffered very much from asthma, and when he breathed it was exactly as if a north wind was blowing. Pinocchio at first tried to keep up his courage, but when he had one proof after another that he was really shut up in the body of this sea-monster he began to cry and scream, and to sob out: "Help! help! Oh, how unfortunate I am! Will nobody come to save me?" "Who do you think could save you, unhappy wretch?" said a voice in the dark that sounded like a guitar out of tune. "Who is speaking?" asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror. "It is I! I am a poor Tunny who was swallowed by the Dog-Fish at the same time that you were. And what fish are you?" "I have nothing in common with fish. I am a puppet." "Then, if you are not a fish, why did you let yourself be swallowed by the monster?" "I didn't let myself be swallowed; it was the monster swallowed me! And now, what are we to do here in the dark?" "Resign ourselves and wait until the Dog-Fish has digested us both." "But I do not want to be digested!" howled Pinocchio, beginning to cry again. "Neither do I want to be digested," added the Tunny; "but I am enough of a philosopher to console myself by thinking that when one is born a Tunny it is more dignified to die in the water than in oil." "That is all nonsense!" cried Pinocchio. "It is my opinion," replied the Tunny, "and opinions, so say the political Tunnies, ought to be respected." "To sum it all up, I want to get away from here. I want to escape." "Escape, if you are able!" "Is this Dog-Fish who has swallowed us very big?" asked the puppet. "Big! Why, only imagine, his body is two miles long without counting his tail." Whilst they were holding this conversation in the dark, Pinocchio thought that he saw a light a long way off. "What is that little light I see in the distance?" he asked. "It is most likely some companion in misfortune who is waiting, like us, to be digested." "I will go and find him. Do you not think that it may by chance be some old fish who perhaps could show us how to escape?" "I hope it may be so, with all my heart, dear puppet." "Good-bye, Tunny." "Good-bye, puppet, and good fortune attend you." "Where shall we meet again?" "Who can say? It is better not even to think of it!" [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXV A HAPPY SURPRISE FOR PINOCCHIO Pinocchio, having taken leave of his friend the Tunny, began to grope his way in the dark through the body of the Dog-Fish, taking a step at a time in the direction of the light that he saw shining dimly at a great distance. The farther he advanced the brighter became the light; and he walked and walked until at last he reached it; and when he reached it--what did he find? I will give you a thousand guesses. He found a little table spread out and on it a lighted candle stuck into a green glass bottle, and, seated at the table, was a little old man. He was eating some live fish, and they were so very much alive that whilst he was eating them they sometimes even jumped out of his mouth. At this sight Pinocchio was filled with such great and unexpected joy that he became almost delirious. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to say a thousand things, and instead he could only stammer out a few confused and broken words. At last he succeeded in uttering a cry of joy, and, opening his arms, he threw them around the little old man's neck, and began to shout: "Oh, my dear papa! I have found you at last! I will never leave you more, never more, never more!" "Then my eyes tell me true?" said the little old man, rubbing his eyes; "then you are really my dear Pinocchio?" "Yes, yes, I am Pinocchio, really Pinocchio! And you have quite forgiven me, have you not? Oh, my dear papa, how good you are! And to think that I, on the contrary--Oh! but if you only knew what misfortunes have been poured on my head, and all that has befallen me! Only imagine, the day that you, poor, dear papa, sold your coat to buy me a spelling-book, that I might go to school, I escaped to see the puppet show, and the showman wanted to put me on the fire, that I might roast his mutton, and he was the same that afterwards gave me five gold pieces to take them to you, but I met the Fox and the Cat, who took me to the inn of The Red Craw-Fish, where they ate like wolves, and I left by myself in the middle of the night, and I encountered assassins who ran after me, and I ran away, and they followed, and I ran, and they always followed me, and I ran, until they hung me to a branch of a Big Oak, and the beautiful Child with blue hair sent a little carriage to fetch me, and the doctors when they saw me said immediately, 'If he is not dead, it is a proof that he is still alive'--and then by chance I told a lie, and my nose began to grow until I could no longer get through the door of the room, for which reason I went with the Fox and the Cat to bury the four gold pieces, for one I had spent at the inn, and the Parrot began to laugh, and instead of two thousand gold pieces I found none left, for which reason the judge when he heard that I had been robbed had me immediately put in prison to content the robbers, and then when I was coming away I saw a beautiful bunch of grapes in a field, and I was caught in a trap, and the peasant, who was quite right, put a dog-collar round my neck that I might guard the poultry-yard, and acknowledging my innocence let me go, and the Serpent with the smoking tail began to laugh and broke a blood-vessel in his chest, and so I returned to the house of the beautiful Child, who was dead, and the Pigeon, seeing that I was crying, said to me, 'I have seen your father who was building a little boat to go in search of you,' and I said to him, 'Oh! if I also had wings,' and he said to me, 'Do you want to go to your father?' and I said, 'Without doubt! but who will take me to him?' and he said to me, 'I will take you,' and I said to him, 'How?' and he said to me, 'Get on my back,' and so we flew all night, and then in the morning all the fishermen who were looking out to sea said to me, 'There is a poor man in a boat who is on the point of being drowned,' and I recognized you at once, even at that distance, for my heart told me, and I made signs to you to return to land." "I also recognized you," said Geppetto, "and I would willingly have returned to the shore, but what was I to do! The sea was tremendous and a great wave upset my boat. Then a horrible Dog-Fish, who was near, as soon as he saw me in the water, came towards me, and, putting out his tongue, took hold of me and swallowed me as if I had been a little apple tart." "And how long have you been shut up here?" asked Pinocchio. [Illustration: They Thought It Would Be More Comfortable to Get on the Tunny's Back] "Since that day--it must be nearly two years ago; two years, my dear Pinocchio, that have seemed like two centuries!" "And how have you managed to live? And where did you get the candle? And the matches to light it? Who gave them to you?" "Stop, and I will tell you everything. You must know, then, that in the same storm in which my boat was upset a merchant vessel foundered. The sailors were all saved, but the vessel went to the bottom, and the Dog-Fish, who had that day an excellent appetite, after he had swallowed me, swallowed also the vessel." "How?" "He swallowed it in one mouthful, and the only thing that he spat out was the mainmast, that had stuck between his teeth like a fish-bone. Fortunately for me, the vessel was laden with preserved meat in tins, biscuit, bottles of wine, dried raisins, cheese, coffee, sugar, candles, and boxes of wax matches. With this providential supply I have been able to live for two years. But I have arrived at the end of my resources; there is nothing left in the larder, and this candle that you see burning is the last that remains." "And after that?" "After that, dear boy, we shall both remain in the dark." "Then, dear little papa," said Pinocchio, "there is no time to lose. We must think of escaping." "Of escaping? How?" "We must escape through the mouth of the Dog-Fish, throw ourselves into the sea and swim away." "You talk well; but, dear Pinocchio, I don't know how to swim." "What does that matter? I am a good swimmer, and you can get on my shoulders and I will carry you safely to shore." "All illusions, my boy!" replied Geppetto, shaking his head, with a melancholy smile. "Do you suppose it possible that a puppet like you, scarcely a yard high, could have the strength to swim with me on his shoulders!" "Try it and you will see!" Without another word Pinocchio took the candle in his hand, and, going in front to light the way, he said to his father: "Follow me, and don't be afraid." And they walked for some time and traversed the body and the stomach of the Dog-Fish. But when they had arrived at the point where the monster's big throat began, they thought it better to stop to give a good look around and to choose the best moment for escaping. Now, I must tell you that the Dog-Fish, being very old, and suffering from asthma and palpitation of the heart, was obliged to sleep with his mouth open. Pinocchio, therefore, having approached the entrance to his throat, and, looking up, could see beyond the enormous gaping mouth a large piece of starry sky and beautiful moonlight. "This is the moment to escape," he whispered, turning to his father; "the Dog-Fish is sleeping like a dormouse, the sea is calm, and it is as light as day. Follow me, dear papa, and in a short time we shall be in safety." They immediately climbed up the throat of the sea-monster, and, having reached his immense mouth, they began to walk on tiptoe down his tongue. Before taking the final leap the puppet said to his father: "Get on my shoulders and put your arms tightly around my neck. I will take care of the rest." As soon as Geppetto was firmly settled on his son's shoulders, Pinocchio, feeling sure of himself, threw himself into the water and began to swim. The sea was as smooth as oil, the moon shone brilliantly, and the Dog-Fish was sleeping so profoundly that even a cannonade would have failed to wake him. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXVI PINOCCHIO AT LAST CEASES TO BE A PUPPET AND BECOMES A BOY Whilst Pinocchio was swimming quickly towards the shore he discovered that his father, who was on his shoulders with his legs in the water, was trembling as violently as if the poor man had an attack of ague fever. Was he trembling from cold or from fear. Perhaps a little from both the one and the other. But Pinocchio, thinking it was from fear, said, to comfort him: "Courage, papa! In a few minutes we shall be safely on shore." "But where is this blessed shore?" asked the little old man, becoming still more frightened, and screwing up his eyes as tailors do when they wish to thread a needle. "I have been looking in every direction and I see nothing but the sky and the sea." "But I see the shore as well," said the puppet. "You must know that I am like a cat: I see better by night than by day." Poor Pinocchio was making a pretense of being in good spirits, but in reality he was beginning to feel discouraged; his strength was failing, he was gasping and panting for breath. He could do no more, and the shore was still far off. He swam until he had no breath left; then he turned his head to Geppetto and said in broken words? "Papa, help me, I am dying!" The father and son were on the point of drowning when they heard a voice like a guitar out of tune saying: "Who is it that is dying?" "It is I, and my poor father!" "I know that voice! You are Pinocchio!" "Precisely; and you?" "I am the Tunny, your prison companion in the body of the Dog-Fish." "And how did you manage to escape?" "I followed your example. You showed me the road, and I escaped after you." "Tunny, you have arrived at the right moment! I implore you to help us or we are lost." "Willingly and with all my heart. You must, both of you, take hold of my tail and leave it to me to guide you. I will take you on shore in four minutes." Geppetto and Pinocchio, as I need not tell you, accepted the offer at once; but, instead of holding on by his tail, they thought it would be more comfortable to get on the Tunny's back. Having reached the shore, Pinocchio sprang first on land that he might help his father to do the same. He then turned to the Tunny and said to him in a voice full of emotion: "My friend, you have saved my papa's life. I can find no words with which to thank you properly. Permit me at least to give you a kiss as a sign of my eternal gratitude!" The Tunny put his head out of the water and Pinocchio, kneeling on the ground, kissed him tenderly on the mouth. At this spontaneous proof of warm affection, the poor Tunny, who was not accustomed to it, felt extremely touched, and, ashamed to let himself be seen crying like a child, he plunged under the water and disappeared. By this time the day had dawned. Pinocchio, then offering his arm to Geppetto, who had scarcely breath to stand, said to him: "Lean on my arm, dear papa, and let us go. We will walk very slowly, like the ants, and when we are tired we can rest by the wayside." "And where shall we go?" asked Geppetto. "In search of some house or cottage, where they will give us for charity a mouthful of bread, and a little straw to serve as a bed." They had not gone a hundred yards when they saw by the roadside two villainous-looking individuals begging. They were the Cat and the Fox, but they were scarcely recognizable. Fancy! the Cat had so long feigned blindness that she had become blind in reality; and the Fox, old, mangy, and with one side paralyzed, had not even his tail left. That sneaking thief, having fallen into the most squalid misery, one fine day had found himself obliged to sell his beautiful tail to a traveling peddler, who bought it to drive away flies. "Oh, Pinocchio!" cried the Fox, "give a little in charity to two poor, infirm people." "Infirm people," repeated the Cat. "Begone, impostors!" answered the puppet. "You took me in once, but you will never catch me again." "Believe me, Pinocchio, we are now poor and unfortunate indeed!" "If you are poor, you deserve it. Recollect the proverb: 'Stolen money never fructifies.' Begone, impostors!" And, thus saying, Pinocchio and Geppetto went their way in peace. When they had gone another hundred yards they saw, at the end of a path in the middle of the fields, a nice little straw hut with a roof of tiles and bricks. "That hut must be inhabited by some one," said Pinocchio. "Let us go and knock at the door." They went and knocked. "We are a poor father and son without bread and without a roof," answered the puppet. "Turn the key and the door will open," said the same little voice. Pinocchio turned the key and the door opened. They went in and looked here, there, and everywhere, but could see no one. "Oh! where is the master of the house?" said Pinocchio, much surprised. "Here I am, up here!" The father and son looked immediately up to the ceiling, and there on a beam they saw the Talking-Cricket. "Oh, my dear little Cricket!" said Pinocchio, bowing politely to him. "Ah! now you call me 'Your dear little Cricket.' But do you remember the time when you threw the handle of a hammer at me, to drive me from your house?" "You are right, Cricket! Drive me away also! Throw the handle of a hammer at me, but have pity on my poor papa." "I will have pity on both father and son, but I wished to remind you of the ill treatment I received from you, to teach you that in this world, when it is possible, we should show courtesy to everybody, if we wish it to be extended to us in our hour of need." "You are right. Cricket, you are right, and I will bear in mind the lesson you have given me. But tell me how you managed to buy this beautiful hut." "This hut was given to me yesterday by a goat whose wool was of a beautiful blue color." "And where has the goat gone?" asked Pinocchio, with lively curiosity. "I do not know." "And when will it come back?" "It will never come back. It went away yesterday in great grief and, bleating, it seemed to say: 'Poor Pinocchio! I shall never see him more, for by this time the Dog-Fish must have devoured him!'" "Did it really say that? Then it was she! It was my dear little Fairy," exclaimed Pinocchio, crying and sobbing. When he had cried for some time he dried his eyes and prepared a comfortable bed of straw for Geppetto to lie down upon. Then he asked the Cricket: "Tell me, little Cricket, where can I find a tumbler of milk for my poor papa?" "Three fields off from here there lives a gardener called Giangio, who keeps cows. Go to him and you will get the milk you are in want of." Pinocchio ran all the way to Giangio's house, and the gardener asked him: "How much milk do you want?" "I want a tumblerful." "A tumbler of milk costs five cents. Begin by giving me the five cents." "I have not even one cent," replied Pinocchio, grieved and mortified. "That is bad, puppet," answered the gardener. "If you have not even one cent, I have not even a drop of milk." "I must have patience!" said Pinocchio, and he turned to go. "Wait a little," said Giangio. "We can come to an arrangement together. Will you undertake to turn the pumping machine?" "What is the pumping machine?" "It is a wooden pole which serves to draw up the water from the cistern to water the vegetables." "You can try me." "Well, then, if you will draw a hundred buckets of water, I will give you in compensation a tumbler of milk." "It is a bargain." Giangio then led Pinocchio to the kitchen garden and taught him how to turn the pumping machine. Pinocchio immediately began to work; but before he had drawn up the hundred buckets of water the perspiration was pouring from his head to his feet. Never before had he undergone such fatigue. "Up till now," said the gardener, "the labor of turning the pumping machine was performed by my little donkey, but the poor animal is dying." "Will you take me to see him?" said Pinocchio. "Willingly." When Pinocchio went into the stable he saw a beautiful little donkey stretched on the straw, worn out from hunger and overwork. After looking at him earnestly, he said to himself, much troubled: "I am sure I know this little donkey! His face is not new to me." And, bending over him, he asked him in asinine language: "Who are you?" At this question the little donkey opened his dying eyes, and answered in broken words in the same language: "I am--Can--dle--wick." And, having again closed his eyes, he expired. "Oh, poor Candlewick!" said Pinocchio in a low voice; and, taking a handful of straw, he dried a tear that was rolling down his face. "Do you grieve for a donkey that cost you nothing?" said the gardener. "What must it be to me, who bought him for ready money?" "I must tell you--he was my friend!" "Your friend?" "One of my school-fellows!" "How?" shouted Giangio, laughing loudly. "How? had you donkeys for school-fellows? I can imagine what wonderful studies you must have made!" The puppet, who felt much mortified at these words, did not answer; but, taking his tumbler of milk, still quite warm, he returned to the hut. And from that day for more than five months he continued to get up at daybreak every morning to go and turn the pumping machine, to earn the tumbler of milk that was of such benefit to his father in his bad state of health. Nor was he satisfied with this; for, during the time that he had over, he learned to make hampers and baskets of rushes, and with the money he obtained by selling them he was able with great economy to provide for all the daily expenses. Amongst other things he constructed an elegant little wheel-chair, in which he could take his father out on fine days to breathe a mouthful of fresh air. By his industry, ingenuity and his anxiety to work and to overcome difficulties, he not only succeeded in maintaining his father, who continued infirm, in comfort, but he also contrived to put aside five dollars to buy himself a new coat. One morning he said to his father: "I am going to the neighboring market to buy myself a jacket, a cap, and a pair of shoes. When I return," he added, laughing, "I shall be so well dressed that you will take me for a fine gentleman." And, leaving the house, he began to run merrily and happily along. All at once he heard himself called by name and, turning around, he saw a big Snail crawling out from the hedge. "Do you not know me?" asked the Snail. "It seems to me--and yet I am not sure--" "Do you not remember the Snail who was lady's-maid to the Fairy with blue hair? Do you not remember the time when I came downstairs to let you in, and you were caught by your foot, which you had stuck through the house-door?" "I remember it all" shouted Pinocchio. "Tell me quickly, my beautiful little Snail, where have you left my good Fairy? What is she doing? Has she forgiven me? Does she still remember me? Does she still wish me well? Is she far from here? Can I go and see her?" To all these rapid, breathless questions the Snail replied in her usual phlegmatic manner: "My dear Pinocchio, the poor Fairy is lying in bed at the hospital!" "At the hospital?" "It is only too true. Overtaken by a thousand misfortunes, she has fallen seriously ill, and she has not even enough to buy herself a mouthful of bread." "Is it really so? Oh, what sorrow you have given me! Oh, poor Fairy! Poor Fairy! Poor Fairy! If I had a million I would run and carry it to her, but I have only five dollars. Here they are--I was going to buy a new coat. Take them, Snail, and carry them at once to my good Fairy." "And your new coat?" "What matters my new coat? I would sell even these rags that I have on to be able to help her. Go, Snail, and be quick; and in two days return to this place, for I hope I shall then be able to give you some more money. Up to this time I have worked to maintain my papa; from today I will work five hours more that I may also maintain my good mamma. Good-bye, Snail, I shall expect you in two days." The Snail, contrary to her usual habits, began to run like a lizard in a hot August sun. That evening Pinocchio, instead of going to bed at ten o'clock, sat up till midnight had struck; and instead of making eight baskets of rushes he made sixteen. Then he went to bed and fell asleep. And whilst he slept he thought that he saw the Fairy, smiling and beautiful, who, after having kissed him, said to him: "Well done, Pinocchio! To reward you for your good heart I will forgive you for all that is past. Boys who minister tenderly to their parents and assist them in their misery and infirmities, are deserving of great praise and affection, even if they cannot be cited as examples of obedience and good behavior. Try and do better in the future and you will be happy." At this moment his dream ended and Pinocchio opened his eyes and awoke. But imagine his astonishment when upon awakening he discovered that he was no longer a wooden puppet, but that he had become instead a boy, like all other boys. He gave a glance round and saw that the straw walls of the hut had disappeared, and that he was in a pretty little room furnished and arranged with a simplicity that was almost elegance. Jumping out of bed he found a new suit of clothes ready for him, a new cap, and a pair of new boots, that fitted him beautifully. He was hardly dressed when he naturally put his hands in his pockets and pulled out a little ivory purse on which these words were written: "The Fairy with blue hair returns the five dollars to her dear Pinocchio, and thanks him for his good heart." He opened the purse and instead of five dollars he saw fifty shining gold pieces fresh from the mint. He then went and looked at himself in the glass, and he thought he was some one else. For he no longer saw the usual reflection of a wooden puppet; he was greeted instead by the image of a bright, intelligent boy with chestnut hair, blue eyes, and looking as happy and joyful as if it were the Easter holidays. In the midst of all these wonders succeeding each other, Pinocchio felt quite bewildered, and he could not tell if he was really awake or if he was dreaming with his eyes open. "Where can my papa be?" he exclaimed suddenly, and, going into the next room, he found old Geppetto quite well, lively, and in good humor, just as he had been formerly. He had already resumed his trade of wood-carving, and he was designing a rich and beautiful frame of leaves, flowers and the heads of animals. "Satisfy my curiosity, dear papa," said Pinocchio, throwing his arms around his neck and covering him with kisses; "how can this sudden change be accounted for?" "This sudden change in our home is all your doing," answered Geppetto. "How my doing?" "Because when boys who have behaved badly turn over a new leaf and become good, they have the power of bringing contentment and happiness to their families." "And where has the old wooden Pinocchio hidden himself?" "There he is," answered Geppetto, and he pointed to a big puppet leaning against a chair, with its head on one side, its arms dangling, and its legs so crossed and bent that it was really a miracle that it remained standing. Pinocchio turned and looked at it; and, after he had looked at it for a short time, he said to himself with great complacency: "How ridiculous I was when I was a puppet! And how glad I am that I have become a well-behaved little boy!"