THE ADVENTURES OF
PINOCCHIO
BY
C. COLLODI
1883
The Adventures of Pinocchio By C. Collodi.
This edition was created and published by Global Grey
©GlobalGrey 2018
globalgreyebooks.com
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
1
CHAPTER 1
How it happened that Mastro Cherry, carpenter, found a piece of wood
that wept and laughed like a child.
Centuries ago there lived—
“A king!” my little readers will say immediately.
No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of
wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common
block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in
winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.
I do not know how this really happened, yet the fact remains that one
fine day this piece of wood found itself in the shop of an old carpenter.
His real name was Mastro Antonio, but everyone called him Mastro
Cherry, for the tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it
looked like a ripe cherry.
As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with joy.
Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself:
“This has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the leg of a
table.”
He grasped the hatchet quickly to peel off the bark and shape the wood.
But as he was about to give it the first blow, he stood still with arm
uplifted, for he had heard a wee, little voice say in a beseeching tone:
“Please be careful! Do not hit me so hard!”
What a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry’s face! His funny face
became still funnier.
He turned frightened eyes about the room to find out where that wee,
little voice had come from and he saw no one! He looked under the
bench—no one! He peeped inside the closet—no one! He searched
among the shavings—no one! He opened the door to look up and down
the street—and still no one!
2
“Oh, I see!” he then said, laughing and scratching his Wig. “It can easily
be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words! Well,
well—to work once more.”
He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood.
“Oh, oh! You hurt!” cried the same far-away little voice.
Mastro Cherry grew dumb, his eyes popped out of his head, his mouth
opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin.
As soon as he regained the use of his senses, he said, trembling and
stuttering from fright:
“Where did that voice come from, when there is no one around? Might it
be that this piece of wood has learned to weep and cry like a child? I can
hardly believe it. Here it is—a piece of common firewood, good only to
burn in the stove, the same as any other. Yet—might someone be hidden
in it? If so, the worse for him. I’ll fix him!”
With these words, he grabbed the log with both hands and started to
knock it about unmercifully. He threw it to the floor, against the walls of
the room, and even up to the ceiling.
He listened for the tiny voice to moan and cry. He waited two minutes—
nothing; five minutes—nothing; ten minutes—nothing.
“Oh, I see,” he said, trying bravely to laugh and ruffling up his wig with
his hand. “It can easily be seen I only imagined I heard the tiny voice!
Well, well—to work once more!”
The poor fellow was scared half to death, so he tried to sing a gay song in
order to gain courage.
He set aside the hatchet and picked up the plane to make the wood
smooth and even, but as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny
voice. This time it giggled as it spoke:
“Stop it! Oh, stop it! Ha, ha, ha! You tickle my stomach.”
This time poor Mastro Cherry fell as if shot. When he opened his eyes, he
found himself sitting on the floor.
3
His face had changed; fright had turned even the tip of his nose from red
to deepest purple.
4
CHAPTER 2
Mastro Cherry gives the piece of wood to his friend Geppetto, who takes
it to make himself a Marionette that will dance, fence, and turn
somersaults.
In that very instant, a loud knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” said
the carpenter, not having an atom of strength left with which to stand
up.
At the words, the door opened and a dapper little old man came in. His
name was Geppetto, but to the boys of the neighborhood he was
Polendina,* on account of the wig he always wore which was just the
color of yellow corn.
* Cornmeal mush
Geppetto had a very bad temper. Woe to the one who called him
Polendina! He became as wild as a beast and no one could soothe him.
“Good day, Mastro Antonio,” said Geppetto. “What are you doing on the
floor?”
“I am teaching the ants their A B C’s.”
“Good luck to you!”
“What brought you here, friend Geppetto?”
“My legs. And it may flatter you to know, Mastro Antonio, that I have
come to you to beg for a favor.”
“Here I am, at your service,” answered the carpenter, raising himself on
to his knees.
“This morning a fine idea came to me.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I thought of making myself a beautiful wooden Marionette. It must be
wonderful, one that will be able to dance, fence, and turn somersaults.
5
With it I intend to go around the world, to earn my crust of bread and
cup of wine. What do you think of it?”
“Bravo, Polendina!” cried the same tiny voice which came from no one
knew where.
On hearing himself called Polendina, Mastro Geppetto turned the color
of a red pepper and, facing the carpenter, said to him angrily:
“Why do you insult me?”
“Who is insulting you?”
“You called me Polendina.”
“I did not.”
“I suppose you think I did! Yet I KNOW it was you.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
And growing angrier each moment, they went from words to blows, and
finally began to scratch and bite and slap each other. When the fight was
over, Mastro Antonio had Geppetto’s yellow wig in his hands and
Geppetto found the carpenter’s curly wig in his mouth.
“Give me back my wig!” shouted Mastro Antonio in a surly voice.
“You return mine and we’ll be friends.”
The two little old men, each with his own wig back on his own head,
shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives.
“Well then, Mastro Geppetto,” said the carpenter, to show he bore him
no ill will, “what is it you want?”
“I want a piece of wood to make a Marionette. Will you give it to me?”
Mastro Antonio, very glad indeed, went immediately to his bench to get
the piece of wood which had frightened him so much. But as he was
6
about to give it to his friend, with a violent jerk it slipped out of his hands
and hit against poor Geppetto’s thin legs.
“Ah! Is this the gentle way, Mastro Antonio, in which you make your
gifts? You have made me almost lame!”
“I swear to you I did not do it!”
“It was I, of course!”
“It’s the fault of this piece of wood.”
“You’re right; but remember you were the one to throw it at my legs.”
“I did not throw it!”
“Liar!”
“Geppetto, do not insult me or I shall call you Polendina.”
“Idiot.”
“Polendina!”
“Donkey!”
“Polendina!”
“Ugly monkey!”
“Polendina!”
On hearing himself called Polendina for the third time, Geppetto lost his
head with rage and threw himself upon the carpenter. Then and there
they gave each other a sound thrashing. After this fight, Mastro Antonio
had two more scratches on his nose, and Geppetto had two buttons
missing from his coat. Thus having settled their accounts, they shook
hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives.
Then Geppetto took the fine piece of wood, thanked Mastro Antonio, and
limped away toward home.
7
CHAPTER 3
As soon as he gets home, Geppetto fashions the Marionette and calls it
Pinocchio. The first pranks of the Marionette.
Little as Geppetto’s house was, it was neat and comfortable. It was a
small room on the ground floor, with a tiny window under the stairway.
The furniture could not have been much simpler: a very old chair, a
rickety old bed, and a tumble-down table. A fireplace full of burning logs
was painted on the wall opposite the door. Over the fire, there was
painted a pot full of something which kept boiling happily away and
sending up clouds of what looked like real steam.
As soon as he reached home, Geppetto took his tools and began to cut
and shape the wood into a Marionette.
“What shall I call him?” he said to himself. “I think I’ll call him
PINOCCHIO. This name will make his fortune. I knew a whole family of
Pinocchi once—Pinocchio the father, Pinocchia the mother, and Pinocchi
the children—and they were all lucky. The richest of them begged for his
living.”
After choosing the name for his Marionette, Geppetto set seriously to
work to make the hair, the forehead, the eyes. Fancy his surprise when
he noticed that these eyes moved and then stared fixedly at him.
Geppetto, seeing this, felt insulted and said in a grieved tone:
“Ugly wooden eyes, why do you stare so?”
There was no answer.
After the eyes, Geppetto made the nose, which began to stretch as soon
as finished. It stretched and stretched and stretched till it became so
long, it seemed endless.
Poor Geppetto kept cutting it and cutting it, but the more he cut, the
longer grew that impertinent nose. In despair he let it alone.
Next he made the mouth.
8
No sooner was it finished than it began to laugh and poke fun at him.
“Stop laughing!” said Geppetto angrily; but he might as well have spoken
to the wall.
“Stop laughing, I say!” he roared in a voice of thunder.
The mouth stopped laughing, but it stuck out a long tongue.
Not wishing to start an argument, Geppetto made believe he saw nothing
and went on with his work. After the mouth, he made the chin, then the
neck, the shoulders, the stomach, the arms, and the hands.
As he was about to put the last touches on the finger tips, Geppetto felt
his wig being pulled off. He glanced up and what did he see? His yellow
wig was in the Marionette’s hand. “Pinocchio, give me my wig!”
But instead of giving it back, Pinocchio put it on his own head, which was
half swallowed up in it.
At that unexpected trick, Geppetto became very sad and downcast, more
so than he had ever been before.
“Pinocchio, you wicked boy!” he cried out. “You are not yet finished, and
you start out by being impudent to your poor old father. Very bad, my
son, very bad!”
And he wiped away a tear.
The legs and feet still had to be made. As soon as they were done,
Geppetto felt a sharp kick on the tip of his nose.
“I deserve it!” he said to himself. “I should have thought of this before I
made him. Now it’s too late!”
He took hold of the Marionette under the arms and put him on the floor
to teach him to walk.
Pinocchio’s legs were so stiff that he could not move them, and Geppetto
held his hand and showed him how to put out one foot after the other.
When his legs were limbered up, Pinocchio started walking by himself
and ran all around the room. He came to the open door, and with one
leap he was out into the street. Away he flew!
9
Poor Geppetto ran after him but was unable to catch him, for Pinocchio
ran in leaps and bounds, his two wooden feet, as they beat on the stones
of the street, making as much noise as twenty peasants in wooden shoes.
“Catch him! Catch him!” Geppetto kept shouting. But the people in the
street, seeing a wooden Marionette running like the wind, stood still to
stare and to laugh until they cried.
At last, by sheer luck, a Carabineer* happened along, who, hearing all
that noise, thought that it might be a runaway colt, and stood bravely in
the middle of the street, with legs wide apart, firmly resolved to stop it
and prevent any trouble.
* A military policeman
Pinocchio saw the Carabineer from afar and tried his best to escape
between the legs of the big fellow, but without success.
The Carabineer grabbed him by the nose (it was an extremely long one
and seemed made on purpose for that very thing) and returned him to
Mastro Geppetto.
The little old man wanted to pull Pinocchio’s ears. Think how he felt
when, upon searching for them, he discovered that he had forgotten to
make them!
All he could do was to seize Pinocchio by the back of the neck and take
him home. As he was doing so, he shook him two or three times and said
to him angrily:
“We’re going home now. When we get home, then we’ll settle this
matter!”
Pinocchio, on hearing this, threw himself on the ground and refused to
take another step. One person after another gathered around the two.
Some said one thing, some another.
“Poor Marionette,” called out a man. “I am not surprised he doesn’t want
to go home. Geppetto, no doubt, will beat him unmercifully, he is so
mean and cruel!”
10
“Geppetto looks like a good man,” added another, “but with boys he’s a
real tyrant. If we leave that poor Marionette in his hands he may tear
him to pieces!”
They said so much that, finally, the Carabineer ended matters by setting
Pinocchio at liberty and dragging Geppetto to prison. The poor old fellow
did not know how to defend himself, but wept and wailed like a child and
said between his sobs:
“Ungrateful boy! To think I tried so hard to make you a well-behaved
Marionette! I deserve it, however! I should have given the matter more
thought.”
What happened after this is an almost unbelievable story, but you may
read it, dear children, in the chapters that follow.
11
CHAPTER 4
The story of Pinocchio and the Talking Cricket, in which one sees that
bad children do not like to be corrected by those who know more than
they do.
Very little time did it take to get poor old Geppetto to prison. In the
meantime that rascal, Pinocchio, free now from the clutches of the
Carabineer, was running wildly across fields and meadows, taking one
short cut after another toward home. In his wild flight, he leaped over
brambles and bushes, and across brooks and ponds, as if he were a goat
or a hare chased by hounds.
On reaching home, he found the house door half open. He slipped into
the room, locked the door, and threw himself on the floor, happy at his
escape.
But his happiness lasted only a short time, for just then he heard
someone saying:
“Cri-cri-cri!”
“Who is calling me?” asked Pinocchio, greatly frightened.
“I am!”
Pinocchio turned and saw a large cricket crawling slowly up the wall.
“Tell me, Cricket, who are you?”
“I am the Talking Cricket and I have been living in this room for more
than one hundred years.”
“Today, however, this room is mine,” said the Marionette, “and if you
wish to do me a favor, get out now, and don’t turn around even once.”
“I refuse to leave this spot,” answered the Cricket, “until I have told you a
great truth.”
“Tell it, then, and hurry.”
12
“Woe to boys who refuse to obey their parents and run away from home!
They will never be happy in this world, and when they are older they will
be very sorry for it.”
“Sing on, Cricket mine, as you please. What I know is, that tomorrow, at
dawn, I leave this place forever. If I stay here the same thing will happen
to me which happens to all other boys and girls. They are sent to school,
and whether they want to or not, they must study. As for me, let me tell
you, I hate to study! It’s much more fun, I think, to chase after
butterflies, climb trees, and steal birds’ nests.”
“Poor little silly! Don’t you know that if you go on like that, you will grow
into a perfect donkey and that you’ll be the laughingstock of everyone?”
“Keep still, you ugly Cricket!” cried Pinocchio.
But the Cricket, who was a wise old philosopher, instead of being
offended at Pinocchio’s impudence, continued in the same tone:
“If you do not like going to school, why don’t you at least learn a trade, so
that you can earn an honest living?”
“Shall I tell you something?” asked Pinocchio, who was beginning to lose
patience. “Of all the trades in the world, there is only one that really suits
me.”
“And what can that be?”
“That of eating, drinking, sleeping, playing, and wandering around from
morning till night.”
“Let me tell you, for your own good, Pinocchio,” said the Talking Cricket
in his calm voice, “that those who follow that trade always end up in the
hospital or in prison.”
“Careful, ugly Cricket! If you make me angry, you’ll be sorry!”
“Poor Pinocchio, I am sorry for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a Marionette and, what is much worse, you have a
wooden head.”
13
At these last words, Pinocchio jumped up in a fury, took a hammer from
the bench, and threw it with all his strength at the Talking Cricket.
Perhaps he did not think he would strike it. But, sad to relate, my dear
children, he did hit the Cricket, straight on its head.
With a last weak “cri-cri-cri” the poor Cricket fell from the wall, dead!
14
CHAPTER 5
Pinocchio is hungry and looks for an egg to cook himself an omelet; but,
to his surprise, the omelet flies out of the window.
If the Cricket’s death scared Pinocchio at all, it was only for a very few
moments. For, as night came on, a queer, empty feeling at the pit of his
stomach reminded the Marionette that he had eaten nothing as yet.
A boy’s appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments the queer, empty
feeling had become hunger, and the hunger grew bigger and bigger, until
soon he was as ravenous as a bear.
Poor Pinocchio ran to the fireplace where the pot was boiling and
stretched out his hand to take the cover off, but to his amazement the pot
was only painted! Think how he felt! His long nose became at least two
inches longer.
He ran about the room, dug in all the boxes and drawers, and even
looked under the bed in search of a piece of bread, hard though it might
be, or a cookie, or perhaps a bit of fish. A bone left by a dog would have
tasted good to him! But he found nothing.
And meanwhile his hunger grew and grew. The only relief poor
Pinocchio had was to yawn; and he certainly did yawn, such a big yawn
that his mouth stretched out to the tips of his ears. Soon he became dizzy
and faint. He wept and wailed to himself: “The Talking Cricket was right.
It was wrong of me to disobey Father and to run away from home. If he
were here now, I wouldn’t be so hungry! Oh, how horrible it is to be
hungry!”
Suddenly, he saw, among the sweepings in a corner, something round
and white that looked very much like a hen’s egg. In a jiffy he pounced
upon it. It was an egg.
The Marionette’s joy knew no bounds. It is impossible to describe it, you
must picture it to yourself. Certain that he was dreaming, he turned the
egg over and over in his hands, fondled it, kissed it, and talked to it:
15
“And now, how shall I cook you? Shall I make an omelet? No, it is better
to fry you in a pan! Or shall I drink you? No, the best way is to fry you in
the pan. You will taste better.”
No sooner said than done. He placed a little pan over a foot warmer full
of hot coals. In the pan, instead of oil or butter, he poured a little water.
As soon as the water started to boil—tac!—he broke the eggshell. But in
place of the white and the yolk of the egg, a little yellow Chick, fluffy and
gay and smiling, escaped from it. Bowing politely to Pinocchio, he said to
him:
“Many, many thanks, indeed, Mr. Pinocchio, for having saved me the
trouble of breaking my shell! Good-by and good luck to you and
remember me to the family!”
With these words he spread out his wings and, darting to the open
window, he flew away into space till he was out of sight.
The poor Marionette stood as if turned to stone, with wide eyes, open
mouth, and the empty halves of the egg-shell in his hands. When he
came to himself, he began to cry and shriek at the top of his lungs,
stamping his feet on the ground and wailing all the while:
“The Talking Cricket was right! If I had not run away from home and if
Father were here now, I should not be dying of hunger. Oh, how horrible
it is to be hungry!”
And as his stomach kept grumbling more than ever and he had nothing
to quiet it with, he thought of going out for a walk to the near-by village,
in the hope of finding some charitable person who might give him a bit
of bread.
16
CHAPTER 6
Pinocchio falls asleep with his feet on a foot warmer, and awakens the
next day with his feet all burned off.
Pinocchio hated the dark street, but he was so hungry that, in spite of it,
he ran out of the house. The night was pitch black. It thundered, and
bright flashes of lightning now and again shot across the sky, turning it
into a sea of fire. An angry wind blew cold and raised dense clouds of
dust, while the trees shook and moaned in a weird way.
Pinocchio was greatly afraid of thunder and lightning, but the hunger he
felt was far greater than his fear. In a dozen leaps and bounds, he came
to the village, tired out, puffing like a whale, and with tongue hanging.
The whole village was dark and deserted. The stores were closed, the
doors, the windows. In the streets, not even a dog could be seen. It
seemed the Village of the Dead.
Pinocchio, in desperation, ran up to a doorway, threw himself upon the
bell, and pulled it wildly, saying to himself: “Someone will surely answer
that!”
He was right. An old man in a nightcap opened the window and looked
out. He called down angrily:
“What do you want at this hour of night?”
“Will you be good enough to give me a bit of bread? I am hungry.”
“Wait a minute and I’ll come right back,” answered the old fellow,
thinking he had to deal with one of those boys who love to roam around
at night ringing people’s bells while they are peacefully asleep.
After a minute or two, the same voice cried:
“Get under the window and hold out your hat!”
Pinocchio had no hat, but he managed to get under the window just in
time to feel a shower of ice-cold water pour down on his poor wooden
head, his shoulders, and over his whole body.
17
He returned home as wet as a rag, and tired out from weariness and
hunger.
As he no longer had any strength left with which to stand, he sat down
on a little stool and put his two feet on the stove to dry them.
There he fell asleep, and while he slept, his wooden feet began to burn.
Slowly, very slowly, they blackened and turned to ashes.
Pinocchio snored away happily as if his feet were not his own. At dawn
he opened his eyes just as a loud knocking sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” he called, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“It is I,” answered a voice.
It was the voice of Geppetto.
18
CHAPTER 7
Geppetto returns home and gives his own breakfast to the Marionette
The poor Marionette, who was still half asleep, had not yet found out
that his two feet were burned and gone. As soon as he heard his Father’s
voice, he jumped up from his seat to open the door, but, as he did so, he
staggered and fell headlong to the floor.
In falling, he made as much noise as a sack of wood falling from the fifth
story of a house.
“Open the door for me!” Geppetto shouted from the street.
“Father, dear Father, I can’t,” answered the Marionette in despair, crying
and rolling on the floor.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because someone has eaten my feet.”
“And who has eaten them?”
“The cat,” answered Pinocchio, seeing that little animal busily playing
with some shavings in the corner of the room.
“Open! I say,” repeated Geppetto, “or I’ll give you a sound whipping
when I get in.”
“Father, believe me, I can’t stand up. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall have to
walk on my knees all my life.”
Geppetto, thinking that all these tears and cries were only other pranks
of the Marionette, climbed up the side of the house and went in through
the window.
At first he was very angry, but on seeing Pinocchio stretched out on the
floor and really without feet, he felt very sad and sorrowful. Picking him
up from the floor, he fondled and caressed him, talking to him while the
tears ran down his cheeks:
19
“My little Pinocchio, my dear little Pinocchio! How did you burn your
feet?”
“I don’t know, Father, but believe me, the night has been a terrible one
and I shall remember it as long as I live. The thunder was so noisy and
the lightning so bright—and I was hungry. And then the Talking Cricket
said to me, ‘You deserve it; you were bad;’ and I said to him, ‘Careful,
Cricket;’ and he said to me, ‘You are a Marionette and you have a wooden
head;’ and I threw the hammer at him and killed him. It was his own
fault, for I didn’t want to kill him. And I put the pan on the coals, but the
Chick flew away and said, ‘I’ll see you again! Remember me to the
family.’ And my hunger grew, and I went out, and the old man with a
nightcap looked out of the window and threw water on me, and I came
home and put my feet on the stove to dry them because I was still
hungry, and I fell asleep and now my feet are gone but my hunger isn’t!
Oh!—Oh!—Oh!” And poor Pinocchio began to scream and cry so loudly
that he could be heard for miles around.
Geppetto, who had understood nothing of all that jumbled talk, except
that the Marionette was hungry, felt sorry for him, and pulling three
pears out of his pocket, offered them to him, saying:
“These three pears were for my breakfast, but I give them to you gladly.
Eat them and stop weeping.”
“If you want me to eat them, please peel them for me.”
“Peel them?” asked Geppetto, very much surprised. “I should never have
thought, dear boy of mine, that you were so dainty and fussy about your
food. Bad, very bad! In this world, even as children, we must accustom
ourselves to eat of everything, for we never know what life may hold in
store for us!”
“You may be right,” answered Pinocchio, “but I will not eat the pears if
they are not peeled. I don’t like them.”
And good old Geppetto took out a knife, peeled the three pears, and put
the skins in a row on the table.
Pinocchio ate one pear in a twinkling and started to throw the core away,
but Geppetto held his arm.
20
“Oh, no, don’t throw it away! Everything in this world may be of some
use!”
“But the core I will not eat!” cried Pinocchio in an angry tone.
“Who knows?” repeated Geppetto calmly.
And later the three cores were placed on the table next to the skins.
Pinocchio had eaten the three pears, or rather devoured them. Then he
yawned deeply, and wailed:
“I’m still hungry.”
“But I have no more to give you.”
“Really, nothing—nothing?”
“I have only these three cores and these skins.”
“Very well, then,” said Pinocchio, “if there is nothing else I’ll eat them.”
At first he made a wry face, but, one after another, the skins and the
cores disappeared.
“Ah! Now I feel fine!” he said after eating the last one.
“You see,” observed Geppetto, “that I was right when I told you that one
must not be too fussy and too dainty about food. My dear, we never know
what life may have in store for us!”
21
CHAPTER 8
Geppetto makes Pinocchio a new pair of feet, and sells his coat to buy
him an A-B-C book.
The Marionette, as soon as his hunger was appeased, started to grumble
and cry that he wanted a new pair of feet.
But Mastro Geppetto, in order to punish him for his mischief, let him
alone the whole morning. After dinner he said to him:
“Why should I make your feet over again? To see you run away from
home once more?”
“I promise you,” answered the Marionette, sobbing, “that from now on
I’ll be good—”
“Boys always promise that when they want something,” said Geppetto.
“I promise to go to school every day, to study, and to succeed—”
“Boys always sing that song when they want their own will.”
“But I am not like other boys! I am better than all of them and I always
tell the truth. I promise you, Father, that I’ll learn a trade, and I’ll be the
comfort and staff of your old age.”
Geppetto, though trying to look very stern, felt his eyes fill with tears and
his heart soften when he saw Pinocchio so unhappy. He said no more,
but taking his tools and two pieces of wood, he set to work diligently.
In less than an hour the feet were finished, two slender, nimble little feet,
strong and quick, modeled as if by an artist’s hands.
“Close your eyes and sleep!” Geppetto then said to the Marionette.
Pinocchio closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, while Geppetto
stuck on the two feet with a bit of glue melted in an eggshell, doing his
work so well that the joint could hardly be seen.
22
As soon as the Marionette felt his new feet, he gave one leap from the
table and started to skip and jump around, as if he had lost his head from
very joy.
“To show you how grateful I am to you, Father, I’ll go to school now. But
to go to school I need a suit of clothes.”
Geppetto did not have a penny in his pocket, so he made his son a little
suit of flowered paper, a pair of shoes from the bark of a tree, and a tiny
cap from a bit of dough.
Pinocchio ran to look at himself in a bowl of water, and he felt so happy
that he said proudly:
“Now I look like a gentleman.”
“Truly,” answered Geppetto. “But remember that fine clothes do not
make the man unless they be neat and clean.”
“Very true,” answered Pinocchio, “but, in order to go to school, I still
need something very important.”
“What is it?”
“An A-B-C book.”
“To be sure! But how shall we get it?”
“That’s easy. We’ll go to a bookstore and buy it.”
“And the money?”
“I have none.”
“Neither have I,” said the old man sadly.
Pinocchio, although a happy boy always, became sad and downcast at
these words. When poverty shows itself, even mischievous boys
understand what it means.
“What does it matter, after all?” cried Geppetto all at once, as he jumped
up from his chair. Putting on his old coat, full of darns and patches, he
ran out of the house without another word.
23
After a while he returned. In his hands he had the A-B-C book for his
son, but the old coat was gone. The poor fellow was in his shirt sleeves
and the day was cold.
“Where’s your coat, Father?”
“I have sold it.”
“Why did you sell your coat?”
“It was too warm.”
Pinocchio understood the answer in a twinkling, and, unable to restrain
his tears, he jumped on his father’s neck and kissed him over and over.
24
CHAPTER 9
Pinocchio sells his A-B-C book to pay his way into the Marionette
Theater.
See Pinocchio hurrying off to school with his new A-B-C book under his
arm! As he walked along, his brain was busy planning hundreds of
wonderful things, building hundreds of castles in the air. Talking to
himself, he said:
“In school today, I’ll learn to read, tomorrow to write, and the day after
tomorrow I’ll do arithmetic. Then, clever as I am, I can earn a lot of
money. With the very first pennies I make, I’ll buy Father a new cloth
coat. Cloth, did I say? No, it shall be of gold and silver with diamond
buttons. That poor man certainly deserves it; for, after all, isn’t he in his
shirt sleeves because he was good enough to buy a book for me? On this
cold day, too! Fathers are indeed good to their children!”
As he talked to himself, he thought he heard sounds of pipes and drums
coming from a distance: pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi. . .zum, zum, zum, zum.
He stopped to listen. Those sounds came from a little street that led to a
small village along the shore.
“What can that noise be? What a nuisance that I have to go to school!
Otherwise. . .”
There he stopped, very much puzzled. He felt he had to make up his
mind for either one thing or another. Should he go to school, or should
he follow the pipes?
“Today I’ll follow the pipes, and tomorrow I’ll go to school. There’s
always plenty of time to go to school,” decided the little rascal at last,
shrugging his shoulders.
No sooner said than done. He started down the street, going like the
wind. On he ran, and louder grew the sounds of pipe and drum: pi-pi-pi,
pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi . . .zum, zum, zum, zum.
25
Suddenly, he found himself in a large square, full of people standing in
front of a little wooden building painted in brilliant colors.
“What is that house?” Pinocchio asked a little boy near him.
“Read the sign and you’ll know.”
“I’d like to read, but somehow I can’t today.”
“Oh, really? Then I’ll read it to you. Know, then, that written in letters of
fire I see the words: GREAT MARIONETTE THEATER.
“When did the show start?”
“It is starting now.”
“And how much does one pay to get in?”
“Four pennies.”
Pinocchio, who was wild with curiosity to know what was going on
inside, lost all his pride and said to the boy shamelessly:
“Will you give me four pennies until tomorrow?”
“I’d give them to you gladly,” answered the other, poking fun at him, “but
just now I can’t give them to you.”
“For the price of four pennies, I’ll sell you my coat.”
“If it rains, what shall I do with a coat of flowered paper? I could not take
it off again.”
“Do you want to buy my shoes?”
“They are only good enough to light a fire with.”
“What about my hat?”
“Fine bargain, indeed! A cap of dough! The mice might come and eat it
from my head!”
Pinocchio was almost in tears. He was just about to make one last offer,
but he lacked the courage to do so. He hesitated, he wondered, he could
not make up his mind. At last he said:
26
“Will you give me four pennies for the book?”
“I am a boy and I buy nothing from boys,” said the little fellow with far
more common sense than the Marionette.
“I’ll give you four pennies for your A-B-C book,” said a ragpicker who
stood by.
Then and there, the book changed hands. And to think that poor old
Geppetto sat at home in his shirt sleeves, shivering with cold, having sold
his coat to buy that little book for his son!
27
CHAPTER 10
The Marionettes recognize their brother Pinocchio, and greet him with
loud cheers; but the Director, Fire Eater, happens along and poor
Pinocchio almost loses his life.
Quick as a flash, Pinocchio disappeared into the Marionette Theater.
And then something happened which almost caused a riot.
The curtain was up and the performance had started.
Harlequin and Pulcinella were reciting on the stage and, as usual, they
were threatening each other with sticks and blows.
The theater was full of people, enjoying the spectacle and laughing till
they cried at the antics of the two Marionettes.
The play continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly, without any
warning, Harlequin stopped talking. Turning toward the audience, he
pointed to the rear of the orchestra, yelling wildly at the same time:
“Look, look! Am I asleep or awake? Or do I really see Pinocchio there?”
“Yes, yes! It is Pinocchio!” screamed Pulcinella.
“It is! It is!” shrieked Signora Rosaura, peeking in from the side of the
stage.
“It is Pinocchio! It is Pinocchio!” yelled all the Marionettes, pouring out
of the wings. “It is Pinocchio. It is our brother Pinocchio! Hurrah for
Pinocchio!”
“Pinocchio, come up to me!” shouted Harlequin. “Come to the arms of
your wooden brothers!”
At such a loving invitation, Pinocchio, with one leap from the back of the
orchestra, found himself in the front rows. With another leap, he was on
the orchestra leader’s head. With a third, he landed on the stage.
28
It is impossible to describe the shrieks of joy, the warm embraces, the
knocks, and the friendly greetings with which that strange company of
dramatic actors and actresses received Pinocchio.
It was a heart-rending spectacle, but the audience, seeing that the play
had stopped, became angry and began to yell:
“The play, the play, we want the play!”
The yelling was of no use, for the Marionettes, instead of going on with
their act, made twice as much racket as before, and, lifting up Pinocchio
on their shoulders, carried him around the stage in triumph.
At that very moment, the Director came out of his room. He had such a
fearful appearance that one look at him would fill you with horror. His
beard was as black as pitch, and so long that it reached from his chin
down to his feet. His mouth was as wide as an oven, his teeth like yellow
fangs, and his eyes, two glowing red coals. In his huge, hairy hands, a
long whip, made of green snakes and black cats’ tails twisted together,
swished through the air in a dangerous way.
At the unexpected apparition, no one dared even to breathe. One could
almost hear a fly go by. Those poor Marionettes, one and all, trembled
like leaves in a storm.
“Why have you brought such excitement into my theater;” the huge
fellow asked Pinocchio with the voice of an ogre suffering with a cold.
“Believe me, your Honor, the fault was not mine.”
“Enough! Be quiet! I’ll take care of you later.”
As soon as the play was over, the Director went to the kitchen, where a
fine big lamb was slowly turning on the spit. More wood was needed to
finish cooking it. He called Harlequin and Pulcinella and said to them:
“Bring that Marionette to me! He looks as if he were made of wellseasoned wood. He’ll make a fine fire for this spit.”
Harlequin and Pulcinella hesitated a bit. Then, frightened by a look from
their master, they left the kitchen to obey him. A few minutes later they
returned, carrying poor Pinocchio, who was wriggling and squirming like
an eel and crying pitifully:
29
“Father, save me! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”
30
CHAPTER 11
Fire Eater sneezes and forgives Pinocchio, who saves his friend,
Harlequin, from death.
In the theater, great excitement reigned.
Fire Eater (this was really his name) was very ugly, but he was far from
being as bad as he looked. Proof of this is that, when he saw the poor
Marionette being brought in to him, struggling with fear and crying, “I
don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” he felt sorry for him and began
first to waver and then to weaken. Finally, he could control himself no
longer and gave a loud sneeze.
At that sneeze, Harlequin, who until then had been as sad as a weeping
willow, smiled happily and leaning toward the Marionette, whispered to
him:
“Good news, brother mine! Fire Eater has sneezed and this is a sign that
he feels sorry for you. You are saved!”
For be it known, that, while other people, when sad and sorrowful, weep
and wipe their eyes, Fire Eater, on the other hand, had the strange habit
of sneezing each time he felt unhappy. The way was just as good as any
other to show the kindness of his heart.
After sneezing, Fire Eater, ugly as ever, cried to Pinocchio:
“Stop crying! Your wails give me a funny feeling down here in my
stomach and—E—tchee!—E—tchee!” Two loud sneezes finished his
speech.
“God bless you!” said Pinocchio.
“Thanks! Are your father and mother still living?” demanded Fire Eater.
“My father, yes. My mother I have never known.”
“Your poor father would suffer terribly if I were to use you as firewood.
Poor old man! I feel sorry for him! E—tchee! E—tchee! E—tchee!” Three
more sneezes sounded, louder than ever.
31
“God bless you!” said Pinocchio.
“Thanks! However, I ought to be sorry for myself, too, just now. My good
dinner is spoiled. I have no more wood for the fire, and the lamb is only
half cooked. Never mind! In your place I’ll burn some other Marionette.
Hey there! Officers!”
At the call, two wooden officers appeared, long and thin as a yard of
rope, with queer hats on their heads and swords in their hands.
Fire Eater yelled at them in a hoarse voice:
“Take Harlequin, tie him, and throw him on the fire. I want my lamb well
done!”
Think how poor Harlequin felt! He was so scared that his legs doubled
up under him and he fell to the floor.
Pinocchio, at that heartbreaking sight, threw himself at the feet of Fire
Eater and, weeping bitterly, asked in a pitiful voice which could scarcely
be heard:
“Have pity, I beg of you, signore!”
“There are no signori here!”
“Have pity, kind sir!”
“There are no sirs here!”
“Have pity, your Excellency!”
On hearing himself addressed as your Excellency, the Director of the
Marionette Theater sat up very straight in his chair, stroked his long
beard, and becoming suddenly kind and compassionate, smiled proudly
as he said to Pinocchio:
“Well, what do you want from me now, Marionette?”
“I beg for mercy for my poor friend, Harlequin, who has never done the
least harm in his life.”
“There is no mercy here, Pinocchio. I have spared you. Harlequin must
burn in your place. I am hungry and my dinner must be cooked.”
32
“In that case,” said Pinocchio proudly, as he stood up and flung away his
cap of dough, “in that case, my duty is clear. Come, officers! Tie me up
and throw me on those flames. No, it is not fair for poor Harlequin, the
best friend that I have in the world, to die in my place!”
These brave words, said in a piercing voice, made all the other
Marionettes cry. Even the officers, who were made of wood also, cried
like two babies.
Fire Eater at first remained hard and cold as a piece of ice; but then, little
by little, he softened and began to sneeze. And after four or five sneezes,
he opened wide his arms and said to Pinocchio:
“You are a brave boy! Come to my arms and kiss me!”
Pinocchio ran to him and scurrying like a squirrel up the long black
beard, he gave Fire Eater a loving kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Has pardon been granted to me?” asked poor Harlequin with a voice
that was hardly a breath.
“Pardon is yours!” answered Fire Eater; and sighing and wagging his
head, he added: “Well, tonight I shall have to eat my lamb only half
cooked, but beware the next time, Marionettes.”
At the news that pardon had been given, the Marionettes ran to the stage
and, turning on all the lights, they danced and sang till dawn.
33
CHAPTER 12
Fire Eater gives Pinocchio five gold pieces for his father, Geppetto; but
the Marionette meets a Fox and a Cat and follows them.
The next day Fire Eater called Pinocchio aside and asked him:
“What is your father’s name?”
“Geppetto.”
“And what is his trade?”
“He’s a wood carver.”
“Does he earn much?”
“He earns so much that he never has a penny in his pockets. Just think
that, in order to buy me an A-B-C book for school, he had to sell the only
coat he owned, a coat so full of darns and patches that it was a pity.”
“Poor fellow! I feel sorry for him. Here, take these five gold pieces. Go,
give them to him with my kindest regards.”
Pinocchio, as may easily be imagined, thanked him a thousand times. He
kissed each Marionette in turn, even the officers, and, beside himself
with joy, set out on his homeward journey.
He had gone barely half a mile when he met a lame Fox and a blind Cat,
walking together like two good friends. The lame Fox leaned on the Cat,
and the blind Cat let the Fox lead him along.
“Good morning, Pinocchio,” said the Fox, greeting him courteously.
“How do you know my name?” asked the Marionette.
“I know your father well.”
“Where have you seen him?”
“I saw him yesterday standing at the door of his house.”
“And what was he doing?”
34
“He was in his shirt sleeves trembling with cold.”
“Poor Father! But, after today, God willing, he will suffer no longer.”
“Why?”
“Because I have become a rich man.”
“You, a rich man?” said the Fox, and he began to laugh out loud. The Cat
was laughing also, but tried to hide it by stroking his long whiskers.
“There is nothing to laugh at,” cried Pinocchio angrily. “I am very sorry
to make your mouth water, but these, as you know, are five new gold
pieces.”
And he pulled out the gold pieces which Fire Eater had given him.
At the cheerful tinkle of the gold, the Fox unconsciously held out his paw
that was supposed to be lame, and the Cat opened wide his two eyes till
they looked like live coals, but he closed them again so quickly that
Pinocchio did not notice.
“And may I ask,” inquired the Fox, “what you are going to do with all that
money?”
“First of all,” answered the Marionette, “I want to buy a fine new coat for
my father, a coat of gold and silver with diamond buttons; after that, I’ll
buy an A-B-C book for myself.”
“For yourself?”
“For myself. I want to go to school and study hard.”
“Look at me,” said the Fox. “For the silly reason of wanting to study, I
have lost a paw.”
“Look at me,” said the Cat. “For the same foolish reason, I have lost the
sight of both eyes.”
At that moment, a Blackbird, perched on the fence along the road, called
out sharp and clear:
“Pinocchio, do not listen to bad advice. If you do, you’ll be sorry!”
35
Poor little Blackbird! If he had only kept his words to himself! In the
twinkling of an eyelid, the Cat leaped on him, and ate him, feathers and
all.
After eating the bird, he cleaned his whiskers, closed his eyes, and
became blind once more.
“Poor Blackbird!” said Pinocchio to the Cat. “Why did you kill him?”
“I killed him to teach him a lesson. He talks too much. Next time he will
keep his words to himself.”
By this time the three companions had walked a long distance. Suddenly,
the Fox stopped in his tracks and, turning to the Marionette, said to him:
“Do you want to double your gold pieces?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want one hundred, a thousand, two thousand gold pieces for
your miserable five?”
“Yes, but how?”
“The way is very easy. Instead of returning home, come with us.”
“And where will you take me?”
“To the City of Simple Simons.”
Pinocchio thought a while and then said firmly:
“No, I don’t want to go. Home is near, and I’m going where Father is
waiting for me. How unhappy he must be that I have not yet returned! I
have been a bad son, and the Talking Cricket was right when he said that
a disobedient boy cannot be happy in this world. I have learned this at
my own expense. Even last night in the theater, when Fire Eater. . .
Brrrr!!!!! . . . The shivers run up and down my back at the mere thought
of it.”
“Well, then,” said the Fox, “if you really want to go home, go ahead, but
you’ll be sorry.”
“You’ll be sorry,” repeated the Cat.
36
“Think well, Pinocchio, you are turning your back on Dame Fortune.”
“On Dame Fortune,” repeated the Cat.
“Tomorrow your five gold pieces will be two thousand!”
“Two thousand!” repeated the Cat.
“But how can they possibly become so many?” asked Pinocchio
wonderingly.
“I’ll explain,” said the Fox. “You must know that, just outside the City of
Simple Simons, there is a blessed field called the Field of Wonders. In
this field you dig a hole and in the hole you bury a gold piece. After
covering up the hole with earth you water it well, sprinkle a bit of salt on
it, and go to bed. During the night, the gold piece sprouts, grows,
blossoms, and next morning you find a beautiful tree, that is loaded with
gold pieces.”
“So that if I were to bury my five gold pieces,” cried Pinocchio with
growing wonder, “next morning I should find—how many?”
“It is very simple to figure out,” answered the Fox. “Why, you can figure
it on your fingers! Granted that each piece gives you five hundred,
multiply five hundred by five. Next morning you will find twenty-five
hundred new, sparkling gold pieces.”
“Fine! Fine!” cried Pinocchio, dancing about with joy. “And as soon as I
have them, I shall keep two thousand for myself and the other five
hundred I’ll give to you two.”
“A gift for us?” cried the Fox, pretending to be insulted. “Why, of course
not!”
“Of course not!” repeated the Cat.
“We do not work for gain,” answered the Fox. “We work only to enrich
others.”
“To enrich others!” repeated the Cat.
“What good people,” thought Pinocchio to himself. And forgetting his
father, the new coat, the A-B-C book, and all his good resolutions, he said
to the Fox and to the Cat:
37
“Let us go. I am with you.”
38
CHAPTER 13
The Inn of the Red Lobster
Cat and Fox and Marionette walked and walked and walked. At last,
toward evening, dead tired, they came to the Inn of the Red Lobster.
“Let us stop here a while,” said the Fox, “to eat a bite and rest for a few
hours. At midnight we’ll start out again, for at dawn tomorrow we must
be at the Field of Wonders.”
They went into the Inn and all three sat down at the same table.
However, not one of them was very hungry.
The poor Cat felt very weak, and he was able to eat only thirty-five
mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe with cheese.
Moreover, as he was so in need of strength, he had to have four more
helpings of butter and cheese.
The Fox, after a great deal of coaxing, tried his best to eat a little. The
doctor had put him on a diet, and he had to be satisfied with a small hare
dressed with a dozen young and tender spring chickens. After the hare,
he ordered some partridges, a few pheasants, a couple of rabbits, and a
dozen frogs and lizards. That was all. He felt ill, he said, and could not
eat another bite.
Pinocchio ate least of all. He asked for a bite of bread and a few nuts and
then hardly touched them. The poor fellow, with his mind on the Field of
Wonders, was suffering from a gold-piece indigestion.
Supper over, the Fox said to the Innkeeper:
“Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio and the other for me
and my friend. Before starting out, we’ll take a little nap. Remember to
call us at midnight sharp, for we must continue on our journey.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the Innkeeper, winking in a knowing way at the Fox
and the Cat, as if to say, “I understand.”
39
As soon as Pinocchio was in bed, he fell fast asleep and began to dream.
He dreamed he was in the middle of a field. The field was full of vines
heavy with grapes. The grapes were no other than gold coins which
tinkled merrily as they swayed in the wind. They seemed to say, “Let him
who wants us take us!”
Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take a handful of them, he
was awakened by three loud knocks at the door. It was the Innkeeper
who had come to tell him that midnight had struck.
“Are my friends ready?” the Marionette asked him.
“Indeed, yes! They went two hours ago.”
“Why in such a hurry?”
“Unfortunately the Cat received a telegram which said that his first-born
was suffering from chilblains and was on the point of death. He could
not even wait to say good-by to you.”
“Did they pay for the supper?”
“How could they do such a thing? Being people of great refinement, they
did not want to offend you so deeply as not to allow you the honor of
paying the bill.”
“Too bad! That offense would have been more than pleasing to me,” said
Pinocchio, scratching his head.
“Where did my good friends say they would wait for me?” he added.
“At the Field of Wonders, at sunrise tomorrow morning.”
Pinocchio paid a gold piece for the three suppers and started on his way
toward the field that was to make him a rich man.
He walked on, not knowing where he was going, for it was dark, so dark
that not a thing was visible. Round about him, not a leaf stirred. A few
bats skimmed his nose now and again and scared him half to death.
Once or twice he shouted, “Who goes there?” and the far-away hills
echoed back to him, “Who goes there? Who goes there? Who goes. . . ?”
As he walked, Pinocchio noticed a tiny insect glimmering on the trunk of
a tree, a small being that glowed with a pale, soft light.
40
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the ghost of the Talking Cricket,” answered the little being in a
faint voice that sounded as if it came from a far-away world.
“What do you want?” asked the Marionette.
“I want to give you a few words of good advice. Return home and give the
four gold pieces you have left to your poor old father who is weeping
because he has not seen you for many a day.”
“Tomorrow my father will be a rich man, for these four gold pieces will
become two thousand.”
“Don’t listen to those who promise you wealth overnight, my boy. As a
rule they are either fools or swindlers! Listen to me and go home.”
“But I want to go on!”
“The hour is late!”
“I want to go on.”
“The night is very dark.”
“I want to go on.”
“The road is dangerous.”
“I want to go on.”
“Remember that boys who insist on having their own way, sooner or
later come to grief.”
“The same nonsense. Good-by, Cricket.”
“Good night, Pinocchio, and may Heaven preserve you from the
Assassins.”
There was silence for a minute and the light of the Talking Cricket
disappeared suddenly, just as if someone had snuffed it out. Once again
the road was plunged in darkness.
41
CHAPTER 14
Pinocchio, not having listened to the good advice of the Talking Cricket,
falls into the hands of the Assassins.
“Dear, oh, dear! When I come to think of it,” said the Marionette to
himself, as he once more set out on his journey, “we boys are really very
unlucky. Everybody scolds us, everybody gives us advice, everybody
warns us. If we were to allow it, everyone would try to be father and
mother to us; everyone, even the Talking Cricket. Take me, for example.
Just because I would not listen to that bothersome Cricket, who knows
how many misfortunes may be awaiting me! Assassins indeed! At least I
have never believed in them, nor ever will. To speak sensibly, I think
assassins have been invented by fathers and mothers to frighten children
who want to run away at night. And then, even if I were to meet them on
the road, what matter? I’ll just run up to them, and say, ‘Well, signori,
what do you want? Remember that you can’t fool with me! Run along
and mind your business.’ At such a speech, I can almost see those poor
fellows running like the wind. But in case they don’t run away, I can
always run myself. . .”
Pinocchio was not given time to argue any longer, for he thought he
heard a slight rustle among the leaves behind him.
He turned to look and behold, there in the darkness stood two big black
shadows, wrapped from head to foot in black sacks. The two figures
leaped toward him as softly as if they were ghosts.
“Here they come!” Pinocchio said to himself, and, not knowing where to
hide the gold pieces, he stuck all four of them under his tongue.
He tried to run away, but hardly had he taken a step, when he felt his
arms grasped and heard two horrible, deep voices say to him: “Your
money or your life!”
On account of the gold pieces in his mouth, Pinocchio could not say a
word, so he tried with head and hands and body to show, as best he
could, that he was only a poor Marionette without a penny in his pocket.
42
“Come, come, less nonsense, and out with your money!” cried the two
thieves in threatening voices.
Once more, Pinocchio’s head and hands said, “I haven’t a penny.”
“Out with that money or you’re a dead man,” said the taller of the two
Assassins.
“Dead man,” repeated the other.
“And after having killed you, we will kill your father also.”
“Your father also!”
“No, no, no, not my Father!” cried Pinocchio, wild with terror; but as he
screamed, the gold pieces tinkled together in his mouth.
“Ah, you rascal! So that’s the game! You have the money hidden under
your tongue. Out with it!”
But Pinocchio was as stubborn as ever.
“Are you deaf? Wait, young man, we’ll get it from you in a twinkling!”
One of them grabbed the Marionette by the nose and the other by the
chin, and they pulled him unmercifully from side to side in order to
make him open his mouth.
All was of no use. The Marionette’s lips might have been nailed together.
They would not open.
In desperation the smaller of the two Assassins pulled out a long knife
from his pocket, and tried to pry Pinocchio’s mouth open with it.
Quick as a flash, the Marionette sank his teeth deep into the Assassin’s
hand, bit it off and spat it out. Fancy his surprise when he saw that it was
not a hand, but a cat’s paw.
Encouraged by this first victory, he freed himself from the claws of his
assailers and, leaping over the bushes along the road, ran swiftly across
the fields. His pursuers were after him at once, like two dogs chasing a
hare.
After running seven miles or so, Pinocchio was well-nigh exhausted.
Seeing himself lost, he climbed up a giant pine tree and sat there to see
43
what he could see. The Assassins tried to climb also, but they slipped and
fell.
Far from giving up the chase, this only spurred them on. They gathered a
bundle of wood, piled it up at the foot of the pine, and set fire to it. In a
twinkling the tree began to sputter and burn like a candle blown by the
wind. Pinocchio saw the flames climb higher and higher. Not wishing to
end his days as a roasted Marionette, he jumped quickly to the ground
and off he went, the Assassins close to him, as before.
Dawn was breaking when, without any warning whatsoever, Pinocchio
found his path barred by a deep pool full of water the color of muddy
coffee.
What was there to do? With a “One, two, three!” he jumped clear across
it. The Assassins jumped also, but not having measured their distance
well—splash!!!—they fell right into the middle of the pool. Pinocchio who
heard the splash and felt it, too, cried out, laughing, but never stopping
in his race:
“A pleasant bath to you, signori!”
He thought they must surely be drowned and turned his head to see. But
there were the two somber figures still following him, though their black
sacks were drenched and dripping with water.
44
CHAPTER 15
The Assassins chase Pinocchio, catch him, and hang him to the branch
of a giant oak tree.
As he ran, the Marionette felt more and more certain that he would have
to give himself up into the hands of his pursuers. Suddenly he saw a little
cottage gleaming white as the snow among the trees of the forest.
“If I have enough breath left with which to reach that little house, I may
be saved,” he said to himself.
Not waiting another moment, he darted swiftly through the woods, the
Assassins still after him.
After a hard race of almost an hour, tired and out of breath, Pinocchio
finally reached the door of the cottage and knocked. No one answered.
He knocked again, harder than before, for behind him he heard the steps
and the labored breathing of his persecutors. The same silence followed.
As knocking was of no use, Pinocchio, in despair, began to kick and bang
against the door, as if he wanted to break it. At the noise, a window
opened and a lovely maiden looked out. She had azure hair and a face
white as wax. Her eyes were closed and her hands crossed on her breast.
With a voice so weak that it hardly could be heard, she whispered:
“No one lives in this house. Everyone is dead.”
“Won’t you, at least, open the door for me?” cried Pinocchio in a
beseeching voice.
“I also am dead.”
“Dead? What are you doing at the window, then?”
“I am waiting for the coffin to take me away.”
After these words, the little girl disappeared and the window closed
without a sound.
45
“Oh, Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair,” cried Pinocchio, “open, I beg of
you. Take pity on a poor boy who is being chased by two Assass—”
He did not finish, for two powerful hands grasped him by the neck and
the same two horrible voices growled threateningly: “Now we have you!”
The Marionette, seeing death dancing before him, trembled so hard that
the joints of his legs rattled and the coins tinkled under his tongue.
“Well,” the Assassins asked, “will you open your mouth now or not? Ah!
You do not answer? Very well, this time you shall open it.”
Taking out two long, sharp knives, they struck two heavy blows on the
Marionette’s back.
Happily for him, Pinocchio was made of very hard wood and the knives
broke into a thousand pieces. The Assassins looked at each other in
dismay, holding the handles of the knives in their hands.
“I understand,” said one of them to the other, “there is nothing left to do
now but to hang him.”
“To hang him,” repeated the other.
They tied Pinocchio’s hands behind his shoulders and slipped the noose
around his neck. Throwing the rope over the high limb of a giant oak
tree, they pulled till the poor Marionette hung far up in space.
Satisfied with their work, they sat on the grass waiting for Pinocchio to
give his last gasp. But after three hours the Marionette’s eyes were still
open, his mouth still shut and his legs kicked harder than ever.
Tired of waiting, the Assassins called to him mockingly: “Good-by till
tomorrow. When we return in the morning, we hope you’ll be polite
enough to let us find you dead and gone and with your mouth wide
open.” With these words they went.
A few minutes went by and then a wild wind started to blow. As it
shrieked and moaned, the poor little sufferer was blown to and fro like
the hammer of a bell. The rocking made him seasick and the noose,
becoming tighter and tighter, choked him. Little by little a film covered
his eyes.
46
Death was creeping nearer and nearer, and the Marionette still hoped for
some good soul to come to his rescue, but no one appeared. As he was
about to die, he thought of his poor old father, and hardly conscious of
what he was saying, murmured to himself:
“Oh, Father, dear Father! If you were only here!”
These were his last words. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth,
stretched out his legs, and hung there, as if he were dead.
47
CHAPTER 16
The Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair sends for the poor Marionette, puts
him to bed, and calls three Doctors to tell her if Pinocchio is dead or
alive.
If the poor Marionette had dangled there much longer, all hope would
have been lost. Luckily for him, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair once
again looked out of her window. Filled with pity at the sight of the poor
little fellow being knocked helplessly about by the wind, she clapped her
hands sharply together three times.
At the signal, a loud whirr of wings in quick flight was heard and a large
Falcon came and settled itself on the window ledge.
“What do you command, my charming Fairy?” asked the Falcon, bending
his beak in deep reverence (for it must be known that, after all, the
Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair was none other than a very kind Fairy
who had lived, for more than a thousand years, in the vicinity of the
forest).
“Do you see that Marionette hanging from the limb of that giant oak
tree?”
“I see him.”
“Very well. Fly immediately to him. With your strong beak, break the
knot which holds him tied, take him down, and lay him softly on the
grass at the foot of the oak.”
The Falcon flew away and after two minutes returned, saying, “I have
done what you have commanded.”
“How did you find him? Alive or dead?”
“At first glance, I thought he was dead. But I found I was wrong, for as
soon as I loosened the knot around his neck, he gave a long sigh and
mumbled with a faint voice, ‘Now I feel better!’”
48
The Fairy clapped her hands twice. A magnificent Poodle appeared,
walking on his hind legs just like a man. He was dressed in court livery. A
tricorn trimmed with gold lace was set at a rakish angle over a wig of
white curls that dropped down to his waist. He wore a jaunty coat of
chocolate-colored velvet, with diamond buttons, and with two huge
pockets which were always filled with bones, dropped there at dinner by
his loving mistress. Breeches of crimson velvet, silk stockings, and low,
silver-buckled slippers completed his costume. His tail was encased in a
blue silk covering, which was to protect it from the rain.
“Come, Medoro,” said the Fairy to him. “Get my best coach ready and set
out toward the forest. On reaching the oak tree, you will find a poor, halfdead Marionette stretched out on the grass. Lift him up tenderly, place
him on the silken cushions of the coach, and bring him here to me.”
The Poodle, to show that he understood, wagged his silk-covered tail two
or three times and set off at a quick pace.
In a few minutes, a lovely little coach, made of glass, with lining as soft as
whipped cream and chocolate pudding, and stuffed with canary feathers,
pulled out of the stable. It was drawn by one hundred pairs of white
mice, and the Poodle sat on the coachman’s seat and snapped his whip
gayly in the air, as if he were a real coachman in a hurry to get to his
destination.
In a quarter of an hour the coach was back. The Fairy, who was waiting
at the door of the house, lifted the poor little Marionette in her arms,
took him to a dainty room with mother-of-pearl walls, put him to bed,
and sent immediately for the most famous doctors of the neighborhood
to come to her.
One after another the doctors came, a Crow, and Owl, and a Talking
Cricket.
“I should like to know, signori,” said the Fairy, turning to the three
doctors gathered about Pinocchio’s bed, “I should like to know if this
poor Marionette is dead or alive.”
At this invitation, the Crow stepped out and felt Pinocchio’s pulse, his
nose, his little toe. Then he solemnly pronounced the following words:
49
“To my mind this Marionette is dead and gone; but if, by any evil chance,
he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is still alive!”
“I am sorry,” said the Owl, “to have to contradict the Crow, my famous
friend and colleague. To my mind this Marionette is alive; but if, by any
evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is wholly
dead!”
“And do you hold any opinion?” the Fairy asked the Talking Cricket.
“I say that a wise doctor, when he does not know what he is talking
about, should know enough to keep his mouth shut. However, that
Marionette is not a stranger to me. I have known him a long time!”
Pinocchio, who until then had been very quiet, shuddered so hard that
the bed shook.
“That Marionette,” continued the Talking Cricket, “is a rascal of the
worst kind.”
Pinocchio opened his eyes and closed them again.
“He is rude, lazy, a runaway.”
Pinocchio hid his face under the sheets.
“That Marionette is a disobedient son who is breaking his father’s heart!”
Long shuddering sobs were heard, cries, and deep sighs. Think how
surprised everyone was when, on raising the sheets, they discovered
Pinocchio half melted in tears!
“When the dead weep, they are beginning to recover,” said the Crow
solemnly.
“I am sorry to contradict my famous friend and colleague,” said the Owl,
“but as far as I’m concerned, I think that when the dead weep, it means
they do not want to die.”
50
CHAPTER 17
Pinocchio eats sugar, but refuses to take medicine. When the
undertakers come for him, he drinks the medicine and feels better.
Afterwards he tells a lie and, in punishment, his nose grows longer and
longer.
As soon as the three doctors had left the room, the Fairy went to
Pinocchio’s bed and, touching him on the forehead, noticed that he was
burning with fever.
She took a glass of water, put a white powder into it, and, handing it to
the Marionette, said lovingly to him:
“Drink this, and in a few days you’ll be up and well.”
Pinocchio looked at the glass, made a wry face, and asked in a whining
voice: “Is it sweet or bitter?”
“It is bitter, but it is good for you.”
“If it is bitter, I don’t want it.”
“Drink it!”
“I don’t like anything bitter.”
“Drink it and I’ll give you a lump of sugar to take the bitter taste from
your mouth.”
“Where’s the sugar?”
“Here it is,” said the Fairy, taking a lump from a golden sugar bowl.
“I want the sugar first, then I’ll drink the bitter water.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes.”
The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, after chewing and
swallowing it in a twinkling, said, smacking his lips:
51
“If only sugar were medicine! I should take it every day.”
“Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water. They’ll be
good for you.”
Pinocchio took the glass in both hands and stuck his nose into it. He
lifted it to his mouth and once more stuck his nose into it.
“It is too bitter, much too bitter! I can’t drink it.”
“How do you know, when you haven’t even tasted it?”
“I can imagine it. I smell it. I want another lump of sugar, then I’ll drink
it.”
The Fairy, with all the patience of a good mother, gave him more sugar
and again handed him the glass.
“I can’t drink it like that,” the Marionette said, making more wry faces.
“Why?”
“Because that feather pillow on my feet bothers me.”
The Fairy took away the pillow.
“It’s no use. I can’t drink it even now.”
“What’s the matter now?”
“I don’t like the way that door looks. It’s half open.”
The Fairy closed the door.
“I won’t drink it,” cried Pinocchio, bursting out crying. “I won’t drink this
awful water. I won’t. I won’t! No, no, no, no!”
“My boy, you’ll be sorry.”
“I don’t care.”
“You are very sick.”
“I don’t care.”
“In a few hours the fever will take you far away to another world.”
52
“I don’t care.”
“Aren’t you afraid of death?”
“Not a bit. I’d rather die than drink that awful medicine.”
At that moment, the door of the room flew open and in came four
Rabbits as black as ink, carrying a small black coffin on their shoulders.
“What do you want from me?” asked Pinocchio.
“We have come for you,” said the largest Rabbit.
“For me? But I’m not dead yet!”
“No, not dead yet; but you will be in a few moments since you have
refused to take the medicine which would have made you well.”
“Oh, Fairy, my Fairy,” the Marionette cried out, “give me that glass!
Quick, please! I don’t want to die! No, no, not yet—not yet!”
And holding the glass with his two hands, he swallowed the medicine at
one gulp.
“Well,” said the four Rabbits, “this time we have made the trip for
nothing.”
And turning on their heels, they marched solemnly out of the room,
carrying their little black coffin and muttering and grumbling between
their teeth.
In a twinkling, Pinocchio felt fine. With one leap he was out of bed and
into his clothes.
The Fairy, seeing him run and jump around the room gay as a bird on
wing, said to him:
“My medicine was good for you, after all, wasn’t it?”
“Good indeed! It has given me new life.”
“Why, then, did I have to beg you so hard to make you drink it?”
“I’m a boy, you see, and all boys hate medicine more than they do
sickness.”
53
“What a shame! Boys ought to know, after all, that medicine, taken in
time, can save them from much pain and even from death.”
“Next time I won’t have to be begged so hard. I’ll remember those black
Rabbits with the black coffin on their shoulders and I’ll take the glass
and pouf!—down it will go!”
“Come here now and tell me how it came about that you found yourself
in the hands of the Assassins.”
“It happened that Fire Eater gave me five gold pieces to give to my
Father, but on the way, I met a Fox and a Cat, who asked me, ‘Do you
want the five pieces to become two thousand?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ And they
said, ‘Come with us to the Field of Wonders.’ And I said, ‘Let’s go.’ Then
they said, ‘Let us stop at the Inn of the Red Lobster for dinner and after
midnight we’ll set out again.’ We ate and went to sleep. When I awoke
they were gone and I started out in the darkness all alone. On the road I
met two Assassins dressed in black coal sacks, who said to me, ‘Your
money or your life!’ and I said, ‘I haven’t any money’; for, you see, I had
put the money under my tongue. One of them tried to put his hand in my
mouth and I bit it off and spat it out; but it wasn’t a hand, it was a cat’s
paw. And they ran after me and I ran and ran, till at last they caught me
and tied my neck with a rope and hanged me to a tree, saying,
‘Tomorrow we’ll come back for you and you’ll be dead and your mouth
will be open, and then we’ll take the gold pieces that you have hidden
under your tongue.’”
“Where are the gold pieces now?” the Fairy asked.
“I lost them,” answered Pinocchio, but he told a lie, for he had them in
his pocket.
As he spoke, his nose, long though it was, became at least two inches
longer.
“And where did you lose them?”
“In the wood near by.”
At this second lie, his nose grew a few more inches.
54
“If you lost them in the near-by wood,” said the Fairy, “we’ll look for
them and find them, for everything that is lost there is always found.”
“Ah, now I remember,” replied the Marionette, becoming more and more
confused. “I did not lose the gold pieces, but I swallowed them when I
drank the medicine.”
At this third lie, his nose became longer than ever, so long that he could
not even turn around. If he turned to the right, he knocked it against the
bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned to the left, he struck the walls
or the door; if he raised it a bit, he almost put the Fairy’s eyes out.
The Fairy sat looking at him and laughing.
“Why do you laugh?” the Marionette asked her, worried now at the sight
of his growing nose.
“I am laughing at your lies.”
“How do you know I am lying?”
“Lies, my boy, are known in a moment. There are two kinds of lies, lies
with short legs and lies with long noses. Yours, just now, happen to have
long noses.”
Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide his shame, tried to escape from
the room, but his nose had become so long that he could not get it out of
the door.
55
CHAPTER 18
Pinocchio finds the Fox and the Cat again, and goes with them to sow
the gold pieces in the Field of Wonders.
Crying as if his heart would break, the Marionette mourned for hours
over the length of his nose. No matter how he tried, it would not go
through the door. The Fairy showed no pity toward him, as she was
trying to teach him a good lesson, so that he would stop telling lies, the
worst habit any boy may acquire. But when she saw him, pale with fright
and with his eyes half out of his head from terror, she began to feel sorry
for him and clapped her hands together. A thousand woodpeckers flew in
through the window and settled themselves on Pinocchio’s nose. They
pecked and pecked so hard at that enormous nose that in a few
moments, it was the same size as before.
“How good you are, my Fairy,” said Pinocchio, drying his eyes, “and how
much I love you!”
“I love you, too,” answered the Fairy, “and if you wish to stay with me,
you may be my little brother and I’ll be your good little sister.”
“I should like to stay—but what about my poor father?”
“I have thought of everything. Your father has been sent for and before
night he will be here.”
“Really?” cried Pinocchio joyfully. “Then, my good Fairy, if you are
willing, I should like to go to meet him. I cannot wait to kiss that dear old
man, who has suffered so much for my sake.”
“Surely; go ahead, but be careful not to lose your way. Take the wood
path and you’ll surely meet him.”
Pinocchio set out, and as soon as he found himself in the wood, he ran
like a hare. When he reached the giant oak tree he stopped, for he
thought he heard a rustle in the brush. He was right. There stood the Fox
and the Cat, the two traveling companions with whom he had eaten at
the Inn of the Red Lobster.
56
“Here comes our dear Pinocchio!” cried the Fox, hugging and kissing
him. “How did you happen here?”
“How did you happen here?” repeated the Cat.
“It is a long story,” said the Marionette. “Let me tell it to you. The other
night, when you left me alone at the Inn, I met the Assassins on the
road—”
“The Assassins? Oh, my poor friend! And what did they want?”
“They wanted my gold pieces.”
“Rascals!” said the Fox.
“The worst sort of rascals!” added the Cat.
“But I began to run,” continued the Marionette, “and they after me, until
they overtook me and hanged me to the limb of that oak.”
Pinocchio pointed to the giant oak near by.
“Could anything be worse?” said the Fox.
“What an awful world to live in! Where shall we find a safe place for
gentlemen like ourselves?”
As the Fox talked thus, Pinocchio noticed that the Cat carried his right
paw in a sling.
“What happened to your paw?” he asked.
The Cat tried to answer, but he became so terribly twisted in his speech
that the Fox had to help him out.
“My friend is too modest to answer. I’ll answer for him. About an hour
ago, we met an old wolf on the road. He was half starved and begged for
help. Having nothing to give him, what do you think my friend did out of
the kindness of his heart? With his teeth, he bit off the paw of his front
foot and threw it at that poor beast, so that he might have something to
eat.”
As he spoke, the Fox wiped off a tear.
Pinocchio, almost in tears himself, whispered in the Cat’s ear:
57
“If all the cats were like you, how lucky the mice would be!”
“And what are you doing here?” the Fox asked the Marionette.
“I am waiting for my father, who will be here at any moment now.”
“And your gold pieces?”
“I still have them in my pocket, except one which I spent at the Inn of the
Red Lobster.”
“To think that those four gold pieces might become two thousand
tomorrow. Why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you sow them in the
Field of Wonders?”
“Today it is impossible. I’ll go with you some other time.”
“Another day will be too late,” said the Fox.
“Why?”
“Because that field has been bought by a very rich man, and today is the
last day that it will be open to the public.”
“How far is this Field of Wonders?”
“Only two miles away. Will you come with us? We’ll be there in half an
hour. You can sow the money, and, after a few minutes, you will gather
your two thousand coins and return home rich. Are you coming?”
Pinocchio hesitated a moment before answering, for he remembered the
good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the advice of the Talking Cricket. Then he
ended by doing what all boys do, when they have no heart and little
brain. He shrugged his shoulders and said to the Fox and the Cat:
“Let us go! I am with you.”
And they went.
They walked and walked for a half a day at least and at last they came to
the town called the City of Simple Simons. As soon as they entered the
town, Pinocchio noticed that all the streets were filled with hairless dogs,
yawning from hunger; with sheared sheep, trembling with cold; with
combless chickens, begging for a grain of wheat; with large butterflies,
unable to use their wings because they had sold all their lovely colors;
58
with tailless peacocks, ashamed to show themselves; and with
bedraggled pheasants, scuttling away hurriedly, grieving for their bright
feathers of gold and silver, lost to them forever.
Through this crowd of paupers and beggars, a beautiful coach passed
now and again. Within it sat either a Fox, a Hawk, or a Vulture.
“Where is the Field of Wonders?” asked Pinocchio, growing tired of
waiting.
“Be patient. It is only a few more steps away.” They passed through the
city and, just outside the walls, they stepped into a lonely field, which
looked more or less like any other field. “Here we are,” said the Fox to
the Marionette. “Dig a hole here and put the gold pieces into it.”
The Marionette obeyed. He dug the hole, put the four gold pieces into it,
and covered them up very carefully. “Now,” said the Fox, “go to that
near-by brook, bring back a pail full of water, and sprinkle it over the
spot.”
Pinocchio followed the directions closely, but, as he had no pail, he
pulled off his shoe, filled it with water, and sprinkled the earth which
covered the gold. Then he asked:
“Anything else?”
“Nothing else,” answered the Fox. “Now we can go. Return here within
twenty minutes and you will find the vine grown and the branches filled
with gold pieces.”
Pinocchio, beside himself with joy, thanked the Fox and the Cat many
times and promised them each a beautiful gift.
“We don’t want any of your gifts,” answered the two rogues. “It is enough
for us that we have helped you to become rich with little or no trouble.
For this we are as happy as kings.”
They said good-by to Pinocchio and, wishing him good luck, went on
their way.
59
CHAPTER 19
Pinocchio is robbed of his gold pieces and, in punishment, is sentenced
to four months in prison.
If the Marionette had been told to wait a day instead of twenty minutes,
the time could not have seemed longer to him. He walked impatiently to
and fro and finally turned his nose toward the Field of Wonders.
And as he walked with hurried steps, his heart beat with an excited tic,
tac, tic, tac, just as if it were a wall clock, and his busy brain kept
thinking:
“What if, instead of a thousand, I should find two thousand? Or if,
instead of two thousand, I should find five thousand—or one hundred
thousand? I’ll build myself a beautiful palace, with a thousand stables
filled with a thousand wooden horses to play with, a cellar overflowing
with lemonade and ice cream soda, and a library of candies and fruits,
cakes and cookies.”
Thus amusing himself with fancies, he came to the field. There he
stopped to see if, by any chance, a vine filled with gold coins was in sight.
But he saw nothing! He took a few steps forward, and still nothing! He
stepped into the field. He went up to the place where he had dug the hole
and buried the gold pieces. Again nothing! Pinocchio became very
thoughtful and, forgetting his good manners altogether, he pulled a hand
out of his pocket and gave his head a thorough scratching.
As he did so, he heard a hearty burst of laughter close to his head. He
turned sharply, and there, just above him on the branch of a tree, sat a
large Parrot, busily preening his feathers.
“What are you laughing at?” Pinocchio asked peevishly.
“I am laughing because, in preening my feathers, I tickled myself under
the wings.”
The Marionette did not answer. He walked to the brook, filled his shoe
with water, and once more sprinkled the ground which covered the gold
pieces.
60
Another burst of laughter, even more impertinent than the first, was
heard in the quiet field.
“Well,” cried the Marionette, angrily this time, “may I know, Mr. Parrot,
what amuses you so?”
“I am laughing at those simpletons who believe everything they hear and
who allow themselves to be caught so easily in the traps set for them.”
“Do you, perhaps, mean me?”
“I certainly do mean you, poor Pinocchio—you who are such a little silly
as to believe that gold can be sown in a field just like beans or squash. I,
too, believed that once and today I am very sorry for it. Today (but too
late!) I have reached the conclusion that, in order to come by money
honestly, one must work and know how to earn it with hand or brain.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said the Marionette, who was
beginning to tremble with fear.
“Too bad! I’ll explain myself better,” said the Parrot. “While you were
away in the city the Fox and the Cat returned here in a great hurry. They
took the four gold pieces which you have buried and ran away as fast as
the wind. If you can catch them, you’re a brave one!”
Pinocchio’s mouth opened wide. He would not believe the Parrot’s words
and began to dig away furiously at the earth. He dug and he dug till the
hole was as big as himself, but no money was there. Every penny was
gone.
In desperation, he ran to the city and went straight to the courthouse to
report the robbery to the magistrate. The Judge was a Monkey, a large
Gorilla venerable with age. A flowing white beard covered his chest and
he wore gold-rimmed spectacles from which the glasses had dropped
out. The reason for wearing these, he said, was that his eyes had been
weakened by the work of many years.
Pinocchio, standing before him, told his pitiful tale, word by word. He
gave the names and the descriptions of the robbers and begged for
justice.
61
The Judge listened to him with great patience. A kind look shone in his
eyes. He became very much interested in the story; he felt moved; he
almost wept. When the Marionette had no more to say, the Judge put out
his hand and rang a bell.
At the sound, two large Mastiffs appeared, dressed in Carabineers’
uniforms.
Then the magistrate, pointing to Pinocchio, said in a very solemn voice:
“This poor simpleton has been robbed of four gold pieces. Take him,
therefore, and throw him into prison.” The Marionette, on hearing this
sentence passed upon him, was thoroughly stunned. He tried to protest,
but the two officers clapped their paws on his mouth and hustled him
away to jail.
There he had to remain for four long, weary months. And if it had not
been for a very lucky chance, he probably would have had to stay there
longer. For, my dear children, you must know that it happened just then
that the young emperor who ruled over the City of Simple Simons had
gained a great victory over his enemy, and in celebration thereof, he had
ordered illuminations, fireworks, shows of all kinds, and, best of all, the
opening of all prison doors.
“If the others go, I go, too,” said Pinocchio to the Jailer.
“Not you,” answered the Jailer. “You are one of those—”
“I beg your pardon,” interrupted Pinocchio, “I, too, am a thief.”
“In that case you also are free,” said the Jailer. Taking off his cap, he
bowed low and opened the door of the prison, and Pinocchio ran out and
away, with never a look backward.
62
CHAPTER 20
Freed from prison, Pinocchio sets out to return to the Fairy; but on the
way he meets a Serpent and later is caught in a trap.
Fancy the happiness of Pinocchio on finding himself free! Without
saying yes or no, he fled from the city and set out on the road that was to
take him back to the house of the lovely Fairy.
It had rained for many days, and the road was so muddy that, at times,
Pinocchio sank down almost to his knees.
But he kept on bravely.
Tormented by the wish to see his father and his fairy sister with azure
hair, he raced like a greyhound. As he ran, he was splashed with mud
even up to his cap.
“How unhappy I have been,” he said to himself. “And yet I deserve
everything, for I am certainly very stubborn and stupid! I will always
have my own way. I won’t listen to those who love me and who have
more brains than I. But from now on, I’ll be different and I’ll try to
become a most obedient boy. I have found out, beyond any doubt
whatever, that disobedient boys are certainly far from happy, and that, in
the long run, they always lose out. I wonder if Father is waiting for me.
Will I find him at the Fairy’s house? It is so long, poor man, since I have
seen him, and I do so want his love and his kisses. And will the Fairy ever
forgive me for all I have done? She who has been so good to me and to
whom I owe my life! Can there be a worse or more heartless boy than I
am anywhere?”
As he spoke, he stopped suddenly, frozen with terror.
What was the matter? An immense Serpent lay stretched across the
road—a Serpent with a bright green skin, fiery eyes which glowed and
burned, and a pointed tail that smoked like a chimney.
How frightened was poor Pinocchio! He ran back wildly for half a mile,
and at last settled himself atop a heap of stones to wait for the Serpent to
go on his way and leave the road clear for him.
63
He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always
there, and even from afar one could see the flash of his red eyes and the
column of smoke which rose from his long, pointed tail.
Pinocchio, trying to feel very brave, walked straight up to him and said in
a sweet, soothing voice:
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Serpent, would you be so kind as to step aside to
let me pass?”
He might as well have talked to a wall. The Serpent never moved.
Once more, in the same sweet voice, he spoke:
“You must know, Mr. Serpent, that I am going home where my father is
waiting for me. It is so long since I have seen him! Would you mind very
much if I passed?”
He waited for some sign of an answer to his questions, but the answer
did not come. On the contrary, the green Serpent, who had seemed, until
then, wide awake and full of life, became suddenly very quiet and still.
His eyes closed and his tail stopped smoking.
“Is he dead, I wonder?” said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands together
happily. Without a moment’s hesitation, he started to step over him, but
he had just raised one leg when the Serpent shot up like a spring and the
Marionette fell head over heels backward. He fell so awkwardly that his
head stuck in the mud, and there he stood with his legs straight up in the
air. At the sight of the Marionette kicking and squirming like a young
whirlwind, the Serpent laughed so heartily and so long that at last he
burst an artery and died on the spot. Pinocchio freed himself from his
awkward position and once more began to run in order to reach the
Fairy’s house before dark. As he went, the pangs of hunger grew so
strong that, unable to withstand them, he jumped into a field to pick a
few grapes that tempted him. Woe to him!
No sooner had he reached the grapevine than—crack! went his legs. The
poor Marionette was caught in a trap set there by a Farmer for some
Weasels which came every night to steal his chickens.
64
CHAPTER 21
Pinocchio is caught by a Farmer, who uses him as a watchdog for his
chicken coop.
Pinocchio, as you may well imagine, began to scream and weep and beg;
but all was of no use, for no houses were to be seen and not a soul passed
by on the road.
Night came on.
A little because of the sharp pain in his legs, a little because of fright at
finding himself alone in the darkness of the field, the Marionette was
about to faint, when he saw a tiny Glowworm flickering by. He called to
her and said:
“Dear little Glowworm, will you set me free?”
“Poor little fellow!” replied the Glowworm, stopping to look at him with
pity. “How came you to be caught in this trap?”
“I stepped into this lonely field to take a few grapes and—”
“Are the grapes yours?”
“No.”
“Who has taught you to take things that do not belong to you?”
“I was hungry.”
“Hunger, my boy, is no reason for taking something which belongs to
another.”
“It’s true, it’s true!” cried Pinocchio in tears. “I won’t do it again.”
Just then, the conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps. It
was the owner of the field, who was coming on tiptoes to see if, by
chance, he had caught the Weasels which had been eating his chickens.
Great was his surprise when, on holding up his lantern, he saw that,
instead of a Weasel, he had caught a boy!
65
“Ah, you little thief!” said the Farmer in an angry voice. “So you are the
one who steals my chickens!”
“Not I! No, no!” cried Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. “I came here only to
take a very few grapes.”
“He who steals grapes may very easily steal chickens also. Take my word
for it, I’ll give you a lesson that you’ll remember for a long while.”
He opened the trap, grabbed the Marionette by the collar, and carried
him to the house as if he were a puppy. When he reached the yard in
front of the house, he flung him to the ground, put a foot on his neck,
and said to him roughly: “It is late now and it’s time for bed. Tomorrow
we’ll settle matters. In the meantime, since my watchdog died today, you
may take his place and guard my henhouse.”
No sooner said than done. He slipped a dog collar around Pinocchio’s
neck and tightened it so that it would not come off. A long iron chain was
tied to the collar. The other end of the chain was nailed to the wall.
“If tonight it should happen to rain,” said the Farmer, “you can sleep in
that little doghouse near-by, where you will find plenty of straw for a soft
bed. It has been Melampo’s bed for three years, and it will be good
enough for you. And if, by any chance, any thieves should come, be sure
to bark!”
After this last warning, the Farmer went into the house and closed the
door and barred it.
Poor Pinocchio huddled close to the doghouse more dead than alive from
cold, hunger, and fright. Now and again he pulled and tugged at the
collar which nearly choked him and cried out in a weak voice:
“I deserve it! Yes, I deserve it! I have been nothing but a truant and a
vagabond. I have never obeyed anyone and I have always done as I
pleased. If I were only like so many others and had studied and worked
and stayed with my poor old father, I should not find myself here now, in
this field and in the darkness, taking the place of a farmer’s watchdog.
Oh, if I could start all over again! But what is done can’t be undone, and I
must be patient!”
66
After this little sermon to himself, which came from the very depths of
his heart, Pinocchio went into the doghouse and fell asleep.
67
CHAPTER 22
Pinocchio discovers the thieves and, as a reward for faithfulness, he
regains his liberty.
Even though a boy may be very unhappy, he very seldom loses sleep over
his worries. The Marionette, being no exception to this rule, slept on
peacefully for a few hours till well along toward midnight, when he was
awakened by strange whisperings and stealthy sounds coming from the
yard. He stuck his nose out of the doghouse and saw four slender, hairy
animals. They were Weasels, small animals very fond of both eggs and
chickens. One of them left her companions and, going to the door of the
doghouse, said in a sweet voice:
“Good evening, Melampo.”
“My name is not Melampo,” answered Pinocchio.
“Who are you, then?”
“I am Pinocchio.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the watchdog.”
“But where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who used to live in this
house?”
“He died this morning.”
“Died? Poor beast! He was so good! Still, judging by your face, I think
you, too, are a good-natured dog.”
“I beg your pardon, I am not a dog!”
“What are you, then?”
“I am a Marionette.”
“Are you taking the place of the watchdog?”
“I’m sorry to say that I am. I’m being punished.”
68
“Well, I shall make the same terms with you that we had with the dead
Melampo. I am sure you will be glad to hear them.”
“And what are the terms?”
“This is our plan: We’ll come once in a while, as in the past, to pay a visit
to this henhouse, and we’ll take away eight chickens. Of these, seven are
for us, and one for you, provided, of course, that you will make believe
you are sleeping and will not bark for the Farmer.”
“Did Melampo really do that?” asked Pinocchio.
“Indeed he did, and because of that we were the best of friends. Sleep
away peacefully, and remember that before we go we shall leave you a
nice fat chicken all ready for your breakfast in the morning. Is that
understood?”
“Even too well,” answered Pinocchio. And shaking his head in a
threatening manner, he seemed to say, “We’ll talk this over in a few
minutes, my friends.”
As soon as the four Weasels had talked things over, they went straight to
the chicken coop which stood close to the doghouse. Digging busily with
teeth and claws, they opened the little door and slipped in. But they were
no sooner in than they heard the door close with a sharp bang.
The one who had done the trick was Pinocchio, who, not satisfied with
that, dragged a heavy stone in front of it. That done, he started to bark.
And he barked as if he were a real watchdog: “Bow, wow, wow! Bow,
wow!”
The Farmer heard the loud barks and jumped out of bed. Taking his gun,
he leaped to the window and shouted: “What’s the matter?”
“The thieves are here,” answered Pinocchio.
“Where are they?”
“In the chicken coop.”
“I’ll come down in a second.”
And, in fact, he was down in the yard in a twinkling and running toward
the chicken coop.
69
He opened the door, pulled out the Weasels one by one, and, after tying
them in a bag, said to them in a happy voice: “You’re in my hands at last!
I could punish you now, but I’ll wait! In the morning you may come with
me to the inn and there you’ll make a fine dinner for some hungry
mortal. It is really too great an honor for you, one you do not deserve;
but, as you see, I am really a very kind and generous man and I am going
to do this for you!”
Then he went up to Pinocchio and began to pet and caress him.
“How did you ever find them out so quickly? And to think that Melampo,
my faithful Melampo, never saw them in all these years!”
The Marionette could have told, then and there, all he knew about the
shameful contract between the dog and the Weasels, but thinking of the
dead dog, he said to himself: “Melampo is dead. What is the use of
accusing him? The dead are gone and they cannot defend themselves.
The best thing to do is to leave them in peace!”
“Were you awake or asleep when they came?” continued the Farmer.
“I was asleep,” answered Pinocchio, “but they awakened me with their
whisperings. One of them even came to the door of the doghouse and
said to me, ‘If you promise not to bark, we will make you a present of one
of the chickens for your breakfast.’ Did you hear that? They had the
audacity to make such a proposition as that to me! For you must know
that, though I am a very wicked Marionette full of faults, still I never
have been, nor ever shall be, bribed.”
“Fine boy!” cried the Farmer, slapping him on the shoulder in a friendly
way. “You ought to be proud of yourself. And to show you what I think of
you, you are free from this instant!”
And he slipped the dog collar from his neck.
70
CHAPTER 23
Pinocchio weeps upon learning that the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair
is dead. He meets a Pigeon, who carries him to the seashore. He throws
himself into the sea to go to the aid of his father.
As soon as Pinocchio no longer felt the shameful weight of the dog collar
around his neck, he started to run across the fields and meadows, and
never stopped till he came to the main road that was to take him to the
Fairy’s house.
When he reached it, he looked into the valley far below him and there he
saw the wood where unluckily he had met the Fox and the Cat, and the
tall oak tree where he had been hanged; but though he searched far and
near, he could not see the house where the Fairy with the Azure Hair
lived.
He became terribly frightened and, running as fast as he could, he finally
came to the spot where it had once stood. The little house was no longer
there. In its place lay a small marble slab, which bore this sad
inscription:
HERE LIES
THE LOVELY FAIRY WITH AZURE HAIR
WHO DIED OF GRIEF
WHEN ABANDONED BY
HER LITTLE BROTHER PINOCCHIO
The poor Marionette was heartbroken at reading these words. He fell to
the ground and, covering the cold marble with kisses, burst into bitter
tears. He cried all night, and dawn found him still there, though his tears
had dried and only hard, dry sobs shook his wooden frame. But these
were so loud that they could be heard by the faraway hills.
As he sobbed he said to himself:
71
“Oh, my Fairy, my dear, dear Fairy, why did you die? Why did I not die,
who am so bad, instead of you, who ...
Purchase answer to see full
attachment