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CHAPTER 28
Pinocchio runs the danger of being fried in a pan like a fish
During that wild chase, Pinocchio lived through a terrible moment when he almost gave himself up as lost. This was when Alidoro (that was the Mastiff’s name), in a frenzy of running, came so near that he was on the very point of reaching him.

The Marionette heard, close behind him, the labored breathing of the beast who was fast on his trail, and now and again even felt his hot breath blow over him.

Luckily, by this time, he was very near the shore, and the sea was in sight; in fact, only a few short steps away.

As soon as he set foot on the beach, Pinocchio gave a leap and fell into the water. Alidoro tried to stop, but as he was running very fast, he couldn’t, and he, too, landed far out in the sea. Strange though it may seem, the Dog could not swim. He beat the water with his paws to hold himself up, but the harder he tried, the deeper he sank. As he stuck his head out once more, the poor fellow’s eyes were bulging and he barked out wildly, “I drown! I drown!”

“Drown!” answered Pinocchio from afar, happy at his escape.

“Help, Pinocchio, dear little Pinocchio! Save me from death!”

At those cries of suffering, the Marionette, who after all had a very kind heart, was moved to compassion. He turned toward the poor animal and said to him:

“But if I help you, will you promise not to bother me again by running after me?”

“I promise! I promise! Only hurry, for if you wait another second, I’ll be dead and gone!”

Pinocchio hesitated still another minute. Then, remembering how his father had often told him that a kind deed is never lost, he swam to Alidoro and, catching hold of his tail, dragged him to the shore.

The poor Dog was so weak he could not stand. He had swallowed so much salt water that he was swollen like a balloon. However, Pinocchio, not wishing to trust him too much, threw himself once again into the sea. As he swam away, he called out:

“Good-by, Alidoro, good luck and remember me to the family!”

“Good-by, little Pinocchio,” answered the Dog. “A thousand thanks for having saved me from death. You did me a good turn, and, in this world, what is given is always returned. If the chance comes, I shall be there.”

Pinocchio went on swimming close to shore. At last he thought he had reached a safe place. Glancing up and down the beach, he saw the opening of a cave out of which rose a spiral of smoke.

“In that cave,” he said to himself, “there must be a fire. So much the better. I’ll dry my clothes and warm myself, and then—well—”

His mind made up, Pinocchio swam to the rocks, but as he started to climb, he felt something under him lifting him up higher and higher. He tried to escape, but he was too late. To his great surprise, he found himself in a huge net, amid a crowd of fish of all kinds and sizes, who were fighting and struggling desperately to free themselves.

At the same time, he saw a Fisherman come out of the cave, a Fisherman so ugly that Pinocchio thought he was a sea monster. In place of hair, his head was covered by a thick bush of green grass. Green was the skin of his body, green were his eyes, green was the long, long beard that reached down to his feet. He looked like a giant lizard with legs and arms.

When the Fisherman pulled the net out of the sea, he cried out joyfully:

“Blessed Providence! Once more I’ll have a fine meal of fish!”

“Thank Heaven, I’m not a fish!” said Pinocchio to himself, trying with these words to find a little courage.

The Fisherman took the net and the fish to the cave, a dark, gloomy, smoky place. In the middle of it, a pan full of oil sizzled over a smoky fire, sending out a repelling odor of tallow that took away one’s breath.

“Now, let’s see what kind of fish we have caught today,” said the Green Fisherman. He put a hand as big as a spade into the net and pulled out a handful of mullets.

“Fine mullets, these!” he said, after looking at them and smelling them with pleasure. After that, he threw them into a large, empty tub.

Many times he repeated this performance. As he pulled each fish out of the net, his mouth watered with the thought of the good dinner coming, and he said:

“Fine fish, these bass!”

“Very tasty, these whitefish!”

“Delicious flounders, these!”

“What splendid crabs!”

“And these dear little anchovies, with their heads still on!”

As you can well imagine, the bass, the flounders, the whitefish, and even the little anchovies all went together into the tub to keep the mullets company. The last to come out of the net was Pinocchio.

As soon as the Fisherman pulled him out, his green eyes opened wide with surprise, and he cried out in fear:

“What kind of fish is this? I don’t remember ever eating anything like it.”

He looked at him closely and after turning him over and over, he said at last:

“I understand. He must be a crab!”

Pinocchio, mortified at being taken for a crab, said resentfully:

“What nonsense! A crab indeed! I am no such thing. Beware how you deal with me! I am a Marionette, I want you to know.”

“A Marionette?” asked the Fisherman. “I must admit that a Marionette fish is, for me, an entirely new kind of fish. So much the better. I’ll eat you with greater relish.”

“Eat me? But can’t you understand that I’m not a fish? Can’t you hear that I speak and think as you do?”

“It’s true,” answered the Fisherman; “but since I see that you are a fish, well able to talk and think as I do, I’ll treat you with all due respect.”

“And that is—”

“That, as a sign of my particular esteem, I’ll leave to you the choice of the manner in which you are to be cooked. Do you wish to be fried in a pan, or do you prefer to be cooked with tomato sauce?”

“To tell you the truth,” answered Pinocchio, “if I must choose, I should much rather go free so I may return home!”

“Are you fooling? Do you think that I want to lose the opportunity to taste such a rare fish? A Marionette fish does not come very often to these seas. Leave it to me. I’ll fry you in the pan with the others. I know you’ll like it. It’s always a comfort to find oneself in good company.”

The unlucky Marionette, hearing this, began to cry and wail and beg. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he said:

“How much better it would have been for me to go to school! I did listen to my playmates and now I am paying for it! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

And as he struggled and squirmed like an eel to escape from him, the Green Fisherman took a stout cord and tied him hand and foot, and threw him into the bottom of the tub with the others.

Then he pulled a wooden bowl full of flour out of a cupboard and started to roll the fish into it, one by one. When they were white with it, he threw them into the pan. The first to dance in the hot oil were the mullets, the bass followed, then the whitefish, the flounders, and the anchovies. Pinocchio’s turn came last. Seeing himself so near to death (and such a horrible death!) he began to tremble so with fright that he had no voice left with which to beg for his life.

The poor boy beseeched only with his eyes. But the Green Fisherman, not even noticing that it was he, turned him over and over in the flour until he looked like a Marionette made of chalk.

Then he took him by the head and . . .

CHAPTER 29
Pinocchio returns to the Fairy’s house and she promises him that, on the morrow, he will cease to be a Marionette and become a boy. A wonderful party of coffee-and-milk to celebrate the great event.

Mindful of what the Fisherman had said, Pinocchio knew that all hope of being saved had gone. He closed his eyes and waited for the final moment.

Suddenly, a large Dog, attracted by the odor of the boiling oil, came running into the cave.

“Get out!” cried the Fisherman threateningly and still holding onto the Marionette, who was all covered with flour.

But the poor Dog was very hungry, and whining and wagging his tail, he tried to say:

“Give me a bite of the fish and I’ll go in peace.”

“Get out, I say!” repeated the Fisherman.

And he drew back his foot to give the Dog a kick.

Then the Dog, who, being really hungry, would take no refusal, turned in a rage toward the Fisherman and bared his terrible fangs. And at that moment, a pitiful little voice was heard saying: “Save me, Alidoro; if you don’t, I fry!”

The Dog immediately recognized Pinocchio’s voice. Great was his surprise to find that the voice came from the little flour-covered bundle that the Fisherman held in his hand.

Then what did he do? With one great leap, he grasped that bundle in his mouth and, holding it lightly between his teeth, ran through the door and disappeared like a flash!

The Fisherman, angry at seeing his meal snatched from under his nose, ran after the Dog, but a bad fit of coughing made him stop and turn back.

Meanwhile, Alidoro, as soon as he had found the road which led to the village, stopped and dropped Pinocchio softly to the ground.

“How much I do thank you!” said the Marionette.

“It is not necessary,” answered the Dog. “You saved me once, and what is given is always returned. We are in this world to help one another.”

“But how did you get in that cave?”

“I was lying here on the sand more dead than alive, when an appetizing odor of fried fish came to me. That odor tickled my hunger and I followed it. Oh, if I had come a moment later!”

“Don’t speak about it,” wailed Pinocchio, still trembling with fright. “Don’t say a word. If you had come a moment later, I would be fried, eaten, and digested by this time. Brrrrrr! I shiver at the mere thought of it.”

Alidoro laughingly held out his paw to the Marionette, who shook it heartily, feeling that now he and the Dog were good friends. Then they bid each other good-by and the Dog went home.

Pinocchio, left alone, walked toward a little hut near by, where an old man sat at the door sunning himself, and asked:

“Tell me, good man, have you heard anything of a poor boy with a wounded head, whose name was Eugene?”

“The boy was brought to this hut and now—”

“Now he is dead?” Pinocchio interrupted sorrowfully.

“No, he is now alive and he has already returned home.”

“Really? Really?” cried the Marionette, jumping around with joy. “Then the wound was not serious?”

“But it might have been—and even mortal,” answered the old man, “for a heavy book was thrown at his head.”

“And who threw it?”

“A schoolmate of his, a certain Pinocchio.”

“And who is this Pinocchio?” asked the Marionette, feigning ignorance.

“They say he is a mischief-maker, a tramp, a street urchin—”

“Calumnies! All calumnies!”

“Do you know this Pinocchio?”

“By sight!” answered the Marionette.

“And what do you think of him?” asked the old man.

“I think he’s a very good boy, fond of study, obedient, kind to his Father, and to his whole family—”

As he was telling all these enormous lies about himself, Pinocchio touched his nose and found it twice as long as it should be. Scared out of his wits, he cried out:

“Don’t listen to me, good man! All the wonderful things I have said are not true at all. I know Pinocchio well and he is indeed a very wicked fellow, lazy and disobedient, who instead of going to school, runs away with his playmates to have a good time.”

At this speech, his nose returned to its natural size.

“Why are you so pale?” the old man asked suddenly.

“Let me tell you. Without knowing it, I rubbed myself against a newly painted wall,” he lied, ashamed to say that he had been made ready for the frying pan.

“What have you done with your coat and your hat and your breeches?”

“I met thieves and they robbed me. Tell me, my good man, have you not, perhaps, a little suit to give me, so that I may go home?”

“My boy, as for clothes, I have only a bag in which I keep hops. If you want it, take it. There it is.”

Pinocchio did not wait for him to repeat his words. He took the bag, which happened to be empty, and after cutting a big hole at the top and two at the sides, he slipped into it as if it were a shirt. Lightly clad as he was, he started out toward the village.

Along the way he felt very uneasy. In fact he was so unhappy that he went along taking two steps forward and one back, and as he went he said to himself:

“How shall I ever face my good little Fairy? What will she say when she sees me? Will she forgive this last trick of mine? I am sure she won’t. Oh, no, she won’t. And I deserve it, as usual! For I am a rascal, fine on promises which I never keep!”

He came to the village late at night. It was so dark he could see nothing and it was raining pitchforks.

Pinocchio went straight to the Fairy’s house, firmly resolved to knock at the door.

When he found himself there, he lost courage and ran back a few steps. A second time he came to the door and again he ran back. A third time he repeated his performance. The fourth time, before he had time to lose his courage, he grasped the knocker and made a faint sound with it.

He waited and waited and waited. Finally, after a full half hour, a top-floor window (the house had four stories) opened and Pinocchio saw a large Snail look out. A tiny light glowed on top of her head. “Who knocks at this late hour?” she called.

“Is the Fairy home?” asked the Marionette.

“The Fairy is asleep and does not wish to be disturbed. Who are you?”

“It is I.”

“Who’s I?”

“Pinocchio.”

“Who is Pinocchio?”

“The Marionette; the one who lives in the Fairy’s house.”

“Oh, I understand,” said the Snail. “Wait for me there. I’ll come down to open the door for you.”

“Hurry, I beg of you, for I am dying of cold.”

“My boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry.”

An hour passed, two hours; and the door was still closed. Pinocchio, who was trembling with fear and shivering from the cold rain on his back, knocked a second time, this time louder than before.

At that second knock, a window on the third floor opened and the same Snail looked out.

“Dear little Snail,” cried Pinocchio from the street. “I have been waiting two hours for you! And two hours on a dreadful night like this are as long as two years. Hurry, please!”

“My boy,” answered the Snail in a calm, peaceful voice, “my dear boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry.” And the window closed.

A few minutes later midnight struck; then one o’clock—two o’clock. And the door still remained closed!

Then Pinocchio, losing all patience, grabbed the knocker with both hands, fully determined to awaken the whole house and street with it. As soon as he touched the knocker, however, it became an eel and wiggled away into the darkness.

“Really?” cried Pinocchio, blind with rage. “If the knocker is gone, I can still use my feet.”

He stepped back and gave the door a most solemn kick. He kicked so hard that his foot went straight through the door and his leg followed almost to the knee. No matter how he pulled and tugged, he could not pull it out. There he stayed as if nailed to the door.

Poor Pinocchio! The rest of the night he had to spend with one foot through the door and the other one in the air.

As dawn was breaking, the door finally opened. That brave little animal, the Snail, had taken exactly nine hours to go from the fourth floor to the street. How she must have raced!

“What are you doing with your foot through the door?” she asked the Marionette, laughing.

“It was a misfortune. Won’t you try, pretty little Snail, to free me from this terrible torture?”

“My boy, we need a carpenter here and I have never been one.”

“Ask the Fairy to help me!”

“The Fairy is asleep and does not want to be disturbed.”

“But what do you want me to do, nailed to the door like this?”

“Enjoy yourself counting the ants which are passing by.”

“Bring me something to eat, at least, for I am faint with hunger.”

“Immediately!”

In fact, after three hours and a half, Pinocchio saw her return with a silver tray on her head. On the tray there was bread, roast chicken, fruit.

“Here is the breakfast the Fairy sends to you,” said the Snail.

At the sight of all these good things, the Marionette felt much better.

What was his disgust, however, when on tasting the food, he found the bread to be made of chalk, the chicken of cardboard, and the brilliant fruit of colored alabaster!

He wanted to cry, he wanted to give himself up to despair, he wanted to throw away the tray and all that was on it. Instead, either from pain or weakness, he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

When he regained his senses, he found himself stretched out on a sofa and the Fairy was seated near him.

“This time also I forgive you,” said the Fairy to him. “But be careful not to get into mischief again.”

Pinocchio promised to study and to behave himself. And he kept his word for the remainder of the year. At the end of it, he passed first in all his examinations, and his report was so good that the Fairy said to him happily:

“Tomorrow your wish will come true.”

“And what is it?”

“Tomorrow you will cease to be a Marionette and will become a real boy.”

Pinocchio was beside himself with joy. All his friends and schoolmates must be invited to celebrate the great event! The Fairy promised to prepare two hundred cups of coffee-and-milk and four hundred slices of toast buttered on both sides.

The day promised to be a very gay and happy one, but—

Unluckily, in a Marionette’s life there’s always a BUT which is apt to spoil everything.

CHAPTER 30
Pinocchio, instead of becoming a boy, runs away to the Land of Toys with his friend, Lamp-Wick.

Coming at last out of the surprise into which the Fairy’s words had thrown him, Pinocchio asked for permission to give out the invitations.

“Indeed, you may invite your friends to tomorrow’s party. Only remember to return home before dark. Do you understand?”

“I’ll be back in one hour without fail,” answered the Marionette.

“Take care, Pinocchio! Boys give promises very easily, but they as easily forget them.”

“But I am not like those others. When I give my word I keep it.”

“We shall see. In case you do disobey, you will be the one to suffer, not anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Because boys who do not listen to their elders always come to grief.”

“I certainly have,” said Pinocchio, “but from now on, I obey.”

“We shall see if you are telling the truth.”

Without adding another word, the Marionette bade the good Fairy good-by, and singing and dancing, he left the house.

In a little more than an hour, all his friends were invited. Some accepted quickly and gladly. Others had to be coaxed, but when they heard that the toast was to be buttered on both sides, they all ended by accepting the invitation with the words, “We’ll come to please you.”

Now it must be known that, among all his friends, Pinocchio had one whom he loved most of all. The boy’s real name was Romeo, but everyone called him Lamp-Wick, for he was long and thin and had a woebegone look about him.

Lamp-Wick was the laziest boy in the school and the biggest mischief-maker, but Pinocchio loved him dearly.

That day, he went straight to his friend’s house to invite him to the party, but Lamp-Wick was not at home. He went a second time, and again a third, but still without success.

Where could he be? Pinocchio searched here and there and everywhere, and finally discovered him hiding near a farmer’s wagon.

“What are you doing there?” asked Pinocchio, running up to him.

“I am waiting for midnight to strike to go—”

“Where?”

“Far, far away!”

“And I have gone to your house three times to look for you!”

“What did you want from me?”

“Haven’t you heard the news? Don’t you know what good luck is mine?”

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow I end my days as a Marionette and become a boy, like you and all my other friends.”

“May it bring you luck!”

“Shall I see you at my party tomorrow?”

“But I’m telling you that I go tonight.”

“At what time?”

“At midnight.”

“And where are you going?”

“To a real country—the best in the world—a wonderful place!”

“What is it called?”

“It is called the Land of Toys. Why don’t you come, too?”

“I? Oh, no!”

“You are making a big mistake, Pinocchio. Believe me, if you don’t come, you’ll be sorry. Where can you find a place that will agree better with you and me? No schools, no teachers, no books! In that blessed place there is no such thing as study. Here, it is only on Saturdays that we have no school. In the Land of Toys, every day, except Sunday, is a Saturday. Vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the last day of December. That is the place for me! All countries should be like it! How happy we should all be!”

“But how does one spend the day in the Land of Toys?”

“Days are spent in play and enjoyment from morn till night. At night one goes to bed, and next morning, the good times begin all over again. What do you think of it?”

“H’m—!” said Pinocchio, nodding his wooden head, as if to say, “It’s the kind of life which would agree with me perfectly.”

“Do you want to go with me, then? Yes or no? You must make up your mind.”

“No, no, and again no! I have promised my kind Fairy to become a good boy, and I want to keep my word. Just see: The sun is setting and I must leave you and run. Good-by and good luck to you!”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Home. My good Fairy wants me to return home before night.”

“Wait two minutes more.”

“It’s too late!”

“Only two minutes.”

“And if the Fairy scolds me?”

“Let her scold. After she gets tired, she will stop,” said Lamp-Wick.

“Are you going alone or with others?”

“Alone? There will be more than a hundred of us!”

“Will you walk?”

“At midnight the wagon passes here that is to take us within the boundaries of that marvelous country.”

“How I wish midnight would strike!”

“Why?”

“To see you all set out together.”

“Stay here a while longer and you will see us!”

“No, no. I want to return home.”

“Wait two more minutes.”

“I have waited too long as it is. The Fairy will be worried.”

“Poor Fairy! Is she afraid the bats will eat you up?”

“Listen, Lamp-Wick,” said the Marionette, “are you really sure that there are no schools in the Land of Toys?” “Not even the shadow of one.”

“Not even one teacher?”

“Not one.”

“And one does not have to study?”

“Never, never, never!”

“What a great land!” said Pinocchio, feeling his mouth water. “What a beautiful land! I have never been there, but I can well imagine it.”

“Why don’t you come, too?”

“It is useless for you to tempt me! I told you I promised my good Fairy to behave myself, and I am going to keep my word.”

“Good-by, then, and remember me to the grammar schools, to the high schools, and even to the colleges if you meet them on the way.”

“Good-by, Lamp-Wick. Have a pleasant trip, enjoy yourself, and remember your friends once in a while.”

With these words, the Marionette started on his way home. Turning once more to his friend, he asked him:

“But are you sure that, in that country, each week is composed of six Saturdays and one Sunday?”

“Very sure!”

“And that vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the thirty-first of December?”

“Very, very sure!”

“What a great country!” repeated Pinocchio, puzzled as to what to do.

Then, in sudden determination, he said hurriedly:

“Good-by for the last time, and good luck.”

“Good-by.”

“How soon will you go?”

“Within two hours.”

“What a pity! If it were only one hour, I might wait for you.”

“And the Fairy?”

“By this time I’m late, and one hour more or less makes very little difference.”

“Poor Pinocchio! And if the Fairy scolds you?”

“Oh, I’ll let her scold. After she gets tired, she will stop.”

In the meantime, the night became darker and darker. All at once in the distance a small light flickered. A queer sound could be heard, soft as a little bell, and faint and muffled like the buzz of a far-away mosquito.

“There it is!” cried Lamp-Wick, jumping to his feet.

“What?” whispered Pinocchio.

“The wagon which is coming to get me. For the last time, are you coming or not?”

“But is it really true that in that country boys never have to study?”

“Never, never, never!”

“What a wonderful, beautiful, marvelous country! Oh—h—h!!”

CHAPTER 31
After five months of play, Pinocchio wakes up one fine morning and finds a great surprise awaiting him.

Finally the wagon arrived. It made no noise, for its wheels were bound with straw and rags.

It was drawn by twelve pair of donkeys, all of the same size, but all of different color. Some were gray, others white, and still others a mixture of brown and black. Here and there were a few with large yellow and blue stripes.

The strangest thing of all was that those twenty-four donkeys, instead of being iron-shod like any other beast of burden, had on their feet laced shoes made of leather, just like the ones boys wear.

And the driver of the wagon?

Imagine to yourselves a little, fat man, much wider than he was long, round and shiny as a ball of butter, with a face beaming like an apple, a little mouth that always smiled, and a voice small and wheedling like that of a cat begging for food.

No sooner did any boy see him than he fell in love with him, and nothing satisfied him but to be allowed to ride in his wagon to that lovely place called the Land of Toys.

In fact the wagon was so closely packed with boys of all ages that it looked like a box of sardines. They were uncomfortable, they were piled one on top of the other, they could hardly breathe; yet not one word of complaint was heard. The thought that in a few hours they would reach a country where there were no schools, no books, no teachers, made these boys so happy that they felt neither hunger, nor thirst, nor sleep, nor discomfort.

No sooner had the wagon stopped than the little fat man turned to Lamp-Wick. With bows and smiles, he asked in a wheedling tone:

“Tell me, my fine boy, do you also want to come to my wonderful country?”

“Indeed I do.”

“But I warn you, my little dear, there’s no more room in the wagon. It is full.”

“Never mind,” answered Lamp-Wick. “If there’s no room inside, I can sit on the top of the coach.”

And with one leap, he perched himself there.

“What about you, my love?” asked the Little Man, turning politely to Pinocchio. “What are you going to do? Will you come with us, or do you stay here?”

“I stay here,” answered Pinocchio. “I want to return home, as I prefer to study and to succeed in life.”

“May that bring you luck!”

“Pinocchio!” Lamp-Wick called out. “Listen to me. Come with us and we’ll always be happy.”

“No, no, no!”

“Come with us and we’ll always be happy,” cried four other voices from the wagon.

“Come with us and we’ll always be happy,” shouted the one hundred and more boys in the wagon, all together. “And if I go with you, what will my good Fairy say?” asked the Marionette, who was beginning to waver and weaken in his good resolutions.

“Don’t worry so much. Only think that we are going to a land where we shall be allowed to make all the racket we like from morning till night.”

Pinocchio did not answer, but sighed deeply once—twice—a third time. Finally, he said:

“Make room for me. I want to go, too!”

“The seats are all filled,” answered the Little Man, “but to show you how much I think of you, take my place as coachman.”

“And you?”

“I’ll walk.”

“No, indeed. I could not permit such a thing. I much prefer riding one of these donkeys,” cried Pinocchio.

No sooner said than done. He approached the first donkey and tried to mount it. But the little animal turned suddenly and gave him such a terrible kick in the stomach that Pinocchio was thrown to the ground and fell with his legs in the air.

At this unlooked-for entertainment, the whole company of runaways laughed uproariously.

The little fat man did not laugh. He went up to the rebellious animal, and, still smiling, bent over him lovingly and bit off half of his right ear.

In the meantime, Pinocchio lifted himself up from the ground, and with one leap landed on the donkey’s back. The leap was so well taken that all the boys shouted,

“Hurrah for Pinocchio!” and clapped their hands in hearty applause.

Suddenly the little donkey gave a kick with his two hind feet and, at this unexpected move, the poor Marionette found himself once again sprawling right in the middle of the road.

Again the boys shouted with laughter. But the Little Man, instead of laughing, became so loving toward the little animal that, with another kiss, he bit off half of his left ear.

“You can mount now, my boy,” he then said to Pinocchio. “Have no fear. That donkey was worried about something, but I have spoken to him and now he seems quiet and reasonable.”

Pinocchio mounted and the wagon started on its way. While the donkeys galloped along the stony road, the Marionette fancied he heard a very quiet voice whispering to him:

“Poor silly! You have done as you wished. But you are going to be a sorry boy before very long.”

Pinocchio, greatly frightened, looked about him to see whence the words had come, but he saw no one. The donkeys galloped, the wagon rolled on smoothly, the boys slept (Lamp-Wick snored like a dormouse) and the little, fat driver sang sleepily between his teeth.

After a mile or so, Pinocchio again heard the same faint voice whispering: “Remember, little simpleton! Boys who stop studying and turn their backs upon books and schools and teachers in order to give all their time to nonsense and pleasure, sooner or later come to grief. Oh, how well I know this! How well I can prove it to you! A day will come when you will weep bitterly, even as I am weeping now—but it will be too late!”

At these whispered words, the Marionette grew more and more frightened. He jumped to the ground, ran up to the donkey on whose back he had been riding, and taking his nose in his hands, looked at him. Think how great was his surprise when he saw that the donkey was weeping—weeping just like a boy!

“Hey, Mr. Driver!” cried the Marionette. “Do you know what strange thing is happening here! This donkey weeps.”

“Let him weep. When he gets married, he will have time to laugh.”

“Have you perhaps taught him to speak?”

“No, he learned to mumble a few words when he lived for three years with a band of trained dogs.”

“Poor beast!”

“Come, come,” said the Little Man, “do not lose time over a donkey that can weep. Mount quickly and let us go. The night is cool and the road is long.”

Pinocchio obeyed without another word. The wagon started again. Toward dawn the next morning they finally reached that much-longed-for country, the Land of Toys.

This great land was entirely different from any other place in the world. Its population, large though it was, was composed wholly of boys. The oldest were about fourteen years of age, the youngest, eight. In the street, there was such a racket, such shouting, such blowing of trumpets, that it was deafening. Everywhere groups of boys were gathered together. Some played at marbles, at hopscotch, at ball. Others rode on bicycles or on wooden horses. Some played at blindman’s buff, others at tag. Here a group played circus, there another sang and recited. A few turned somersaults, others walked on their hands with their feet in the air. Generals in full uniform leading regiments of cardboard soldiers passed by. Laughter, shrieks, howls, catcalls, hand-clapping followed this parade. One boy made a noise like a hen, another like a rooster, and a third imitated a lion in his den. All together they created such a pandemonium that it would have been necessary for you to put cotton in your ears. The squares were filled with small wooden theaters, overflowing with boys from morning till night, and on the walls of the houses, written with charcoal, were words like these: HURRAH FOR THE LAND OF TOYS! DOWN WITH ARITHMETIC! NO MORE SCHOOL!

As soon as they had set foot in that land, Pinocchio, Lamp-Wick, and all the other boys who had traveled with them started out on a tour of investigation. They wandered everywhere, they looked into every nook and corner, house and theater. They became everybody’s friend. Who could be happier than they?

What with entertainments and parties, the hours, the days, the weeks passed like lightning.

“Oh, what a beautiful life this is!” said Pinocchio each time that, by chance, he met his friend Lamp-Wick.

“Was I right or wrong?” answered Lamp-Wick. “And to think you did not want to come! To think that even yesterday the idea came into your head to return home to see your Fairy and to start studying again! If today you are free from pencils and books and school, you owe it to me, to my advice, to my care. Do you admit it? Only true friends count, after all.”

“It’s true, Lamp-Wick, it’s true. If today I am a really happy boy, it is all because of you. And to think that the teacher, when speaking of you, used to say, ‘Do not go with that Lamp-Wick! He is a bad companion and some day he will lead you astray.’”

“Poor teacher!” answered the other, nodding his head. “Indeed I know how much he disliked me and how he enjoyed speaking ill of me. But I am of a generous nature, and I gladly forgive him.”

“Great soul!” said Pinocchio, fondly embracing his friend.

Five months passed and the boys continued playing and enjoying themselves from morn till night, without ever seeing a book, or a desk, or a school. But, my children, there came a morning when Pinocchio awoke and found a great surprise awaiting him, a surprise which made him feel very unhappy, as you shall see.

CHAPTER 32
Pinocchio’s ears become like those of a Donkey. In a little while he changes into a real Donkey and begins to bray.

Everyone, at one time or another, has found some surprise awaiting him. Of the kind which Pinocchio had on that eventful morning of his life, there are but few.

What was it? I will tell you, my dear little readers. On awakening, Pinocchio put his hand up to his head and there he found—

Guess!

He found that, during the night, his ears had grown at least ten full inches!

You must know that the Marionette, even from his birth, had very small ears, so small indeed that to the naked eye they could hardly be seen. Fancy how he felt when he noticed that overnight those two dainty organs had become as long as shoe brushes!

He went in search of a mirror, but not finding any, he just filled a basin with water and looked at himself. There he saw what he never could have wished to see. His manly figure was adorned and enriched by a beautiful pair of donkey’s ears.

I leave you to think of the terrible grief, the shame, the despair of the poor Marionette.

He began to cry, to scream, to knock his head against the wall, but the more he shrieked, the longer and the more hairy grew his ears.

At those piercing shrieks, a Dormouse came into the room, a fat little Dormouse, who lived upstairs. Seeing Pinocchio so grief-stricken, she asked him anxiously:

“What is the matter, dear little neighbor?”

“I am sick, my little Dormouse, very, very sick—and from an illness which frightens me! Do you understand how to feel the pulse?”

“A little.”

“Feel mine then and tell me if I have a fever.”

The Dormouse took Pinocchio’s wrist between her paws and, after a few minutes, looked up at him sorrowfully and said: “My friend, I am sorry, but I must give you some very sad news.”

“What is it?”

“You have a very bad fever.”

“But what fever is it?”

“The donkey fever.”

“I don’t know anything about that fever,” answered the Marionette, beginning to understand even too well what was happening to him.

“Then I will tell you all about it,” said the Dormouse. “Know then that, within two or three hours, you will no longer be a Marionette, nor a boy.”

“What shall I be?”

“Within two or three hours you will become a real donkey, just like the ones that pull the fruit carts to market.”

“Oh, what have I done? What have I done?” cried Pinocchio, grasping his two long ears in his hands and pulling and tugging at them angrily, just as if they belonged to another.

“My dear boy,” answered the Dormouse to cheer him up a bit, “why worry now? What is done cannot be undone, you know. Fate has decreed that all lazy boys who come to hate books and schools and teachers and spend all their days with toys and games must sooner or later turn into donkeys.”

“But is it really so?” asked the Marionette, sobbing bitterly.

“I am sorry to say it is. And tears now are useless. You should have thought of all this before.”

“But the fault is not mine. Believe me, little Dormouse, the fault is all Lamp-Wick’s.”

“And who is this Lamp-Wick?”

“A classmate of mine. I wanted to return home. I wanted to be obedient. I wanted to study and to succeed in school, but Lamp-Wick said to me, ‘Why do you want to waste your time studying? Why do you want to go to school? Come with me to the Land of Toys. There we’ll never study again. There we can enjoy ourselves and be happy from morn till night.’”

“And why did you follow the advice of that false friend?”

“Why? Because, my dear little Dormouse, I am a heedless Marionette—heedless and heartless. Oh! If I had only had a bit of heart, I should never have abandoned that good Fairy, who loved me so well and who has been so kind to me! And by this time, I should no longer be a Marionette. I should have become a real boy, like all these friends of mine! Oh, if I meet Lamp-Wick I am going to tell him what I think of him—and more, too!”

After this long speech, Pinocchio walked to the door of the room. But when he reached it, remembering his donkey ears, he felt ashamed to show them to the public and turned back. He took a large cotton bag from a shelf, put it on his head, and pulled it far down to his very nose.

Thus adorned, he went out. He looked for Lamp-Wick everywhere, along the streets, in the squares, inside the theatres, everywhere; but he was not to be found. He asked everyone whom he met about him, but no one had seen him. In desperation, he returned home and knocked at the door.

“Who is it?” asked Lamp-Wick from within.

“It is I!” answered the Marionette.

“Wait a minute.”

After a full half hour the door opened. Another surprise awaited Pinocchio! There in the room stood his friend, with a large cotton bag on his head, pulled far down to his very nose.

At the sight of that bag, Pinocchio felt slightly happier and thought to himself:

“My friend must be suffering from the same sickness that I am! I wonder if he, too, has donkey fever?”

But pretending he had seen nothing, he asked with a smile:

“How are you, my dear Lamp-Wick?”

“Very well. Like a mouse in a Parmesan cheese.”

“Is that really true?”

“Why should I lie to you?”

“I beg your pardon, my friend, but why then are you wearing that cotton bag over your ears?”

“The doctor has ordered it because one of my knees hurts. And you, dear Marionette, why are you wearing that cotton bag down to your nose?”

“The doctor has ordered it because I have bruised my foot.”

“Oh, my poor Pinocchio!”

“Oh, my poor Lamp-Wick!”

An embarrassingly long silence followed these words, during which time the two friends looked at each other in a mocking way.

Finally the Marionette, in a voice sweet as honey and soft as a flute, said to his companion:

“Tell me, Lamp-Wick, dear friend, have you ever suffered from an earache?”

“Never! And you?”

“Never! Still, since this morning my ear has been torturing me.”

“So has mine.”

“Yours, too? And which ear is it?”

“Both of them. And yours?”

“Both of them, too. I wonder if it could be the same sickness.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“Will you do me a favor, Lamp-Wick?”

“Gladly! With my whole heart.”

“Will you let me see your ears?”

“Why not? But before I show you mine, I want to see yours, dear Pinocchio.”

“No. You must show yours first.”

“No, my dear! Yours first, then mine.”

“Well, then,” said the Marionette, “let us make a contract.”

“Let’s hear the contract!”

“Let us take off our caps together. All right?”

“All right.”

“Ready then!”

Pinocchio began to count, “One! Two! Three!”

At the word “Three!” the two boys pulled off their caps and threw them high in air.

And then a scene took place which is hard to believe, but it is all too true. The Marionette and his friend, Lamp-Wick, when they saw each other both stricken by the same misfortune, instead of feeling sorrowful and ashamed, began to poke fun at each other, and after much nonsense, they ended by bursting out into hearty laughter.

They laughed and laughed, and laughed again—laughed till they ached—laughed till they cried.

But all of a sudden Lamp-Wick stopped laughing. He tottered and almost fell. Pale as a ghost, he turned to Pinocchio and said:

“Help, help, Pinocchio!”

“What is the matter?”

“Oh, help me! I can no longer stand up.”

“I can’t either,” cried Pinocchio; and his laughter turned to tears as he stumbled about helplessly.

They had hardly finished speaking, when both of them fell on all fours and began running and jumping around the room. As they ran, their arms turned into legs, their faces lengthened into snouts and their backs became covered with long gray hairs.

This was humiliation enough, but the most horrible moment was the one in which the two poor creatures felt their tails appear. Overcome with shame and grief, they tried to cry and bemoan their fate.

But what is done can’t be undone! Instead of moans and cries, they burst forth into loud donkey brays, which sounded very much like, “Haw! Haw! Haw!”

At that moment, a loud knocking was heard at the door and a voice called to them:

“Open! I am the Little Man, the driver of the wagon which brought you here. Open, I say, or beware!”

CHAPTER 33
Pinocchio, having become a Donkey, is bought by the owner of a Circus, who wants to teach him to do tricks. The Donkey becomes lame and is sold to a man who wants to use his skin for a drumhead.

Very sad and downcast were the two poor little fellows as they stood and looked at each other. Outside the room, the Little Man grew more and more impatient, and finally gave the door such a violent kick that it flew open. With his usual sweet smile on his lips, he looked at Pinocchio and Lamp-Wick and said to them:

“Fine work, boys! You have brayed well, so well that I recognized your voices immediately, and here I am.”

On hearing this, the two Donkeys bowed their heads in shame, dropped their ears, and put their tails between their legs.

At first, the Little Man petted and caressed them and smoothed down their hairy coats. Then he took out a currycomb and worked over them till they shone like glass. Satisfied with the looks of the two little animals, he bridled them and took them to a market place far away from the Land of Toys, in the hope of selling them at a good price.

In fact, he did not have to wait very long for an offer. Lamp-Wick was bought by a farmer whose donkey had died the day before. Pinocchio went to the owner of a circus, who wanted to teach him to do tricks for his audiences.

And now do you understand what the Little Man’s profession was? This horrid little being, whose face shone with kindness, went about the world looking for boys. Lazy boys, boys who hated books, boys who wanted to run away from home, boys who were tired of school—all these were his joy and his fortune. He took them with him to the Land of Toys and let them enjoy themselves to their heart’s content. When, after months of all play and no work, they became little donkeys, he sold them on the market place. In a few years, he had become a millionaire.

What happened to Lamp-Wick? My dear children, I do not know. Pinocchio, I can tell you, met with great hardships even from the first day.

After putting him in a stable, his new master filled his manger with straw, but Pinocchio, after tasting a mouthful, spat it out.

Then the man filled the manger with hay. But Pinocchio did not like that any better.

“Ah, you don’t like hay either?” he cried angrily. “Wait, my pretty Donkey, I’ll teach you not to be so particular.”

Without more ado, he took a whip and gave the Donkey a hearty blow across the legs.

Pinocchio screamed with pain and as he screamed he brayed:

“Haw! Haw! Haw! I can’t digest straw!”

“Then eat the hay!” answered his master, who understood the Donkey perfectly.

“Haw! Haw! Haw! Hay gives me a headache!”

“Do you pretend, by any chance, that I should feed you duck or chicken?” asked the man again, and, angrier than ever, he gave poor Pinocchio another lashing.

At that second beating, Pinocchio became very quiet and said no more.

After that, the door of the stable was closed and he was left alone. It was many hours since he had eaten anything and he started to yawn from hunger. As he yawned, he opened a mouth as big as an oven.

Finally, not finding anything else in the manger, he tasted the hay. After tasting it, he chewed it well, closed his eyes, and swallowed it.

“This hay is not bad,” he said to himself. “But how much happier I should be if I had studied! Just now, instead of hay, I should be eating some good bread and butter. Patience!”

Next morning, when he awoke, Pinocchio looked in the manger for more hay, but it was all gone. He had eaten it all during the night.

He tried the straw, but, as he chewed away at it, he noticed to his great disappointment that it tasted neither like rice nor like macaroni.

“Patience!” he repeated as he chewed. “If only my misfortune might serve as a lesson to disobedient boys who refuse to study! Patience! Have patience!”

“Patience indeed!” shouted his master just then, as he came into the stable. “Do you think, perhaps, my little Donkey, that I have brought you here only to give you food and drink? Oh, no! You are to help me earn some fine gold pieces, do you hear? Come along, now. I am going to teach you to jump and bow, to dance a waltz and a polka, and even to stand on your head.”

Poor Pinocchio, whether he liked it or not, had to learn all these wonderful things; but it took him three long months and cost him many, many lashings before he was pronounced perfect.

The day came at last when Pinocchio’s master was able to announce an extraordinary performance. The announcements, posted all around the town, and written in large letters, read thus:

GREAT SPECTACLE TONIGHT
LEAPS AND EXERCISES BY THE GREAT ARTISTS
AND THE FAMOUS HORSES
of the
COMPANY

First Public Appearance

of the

FAMOUS DONKEY

called

PINOCCHIO

THE STAR OF THE DANCE
——
The Theater will be as Light as Day
That night, as you can well imagine, the theater was filled to overflowing one hour before the show was scheduled to start.

Not an orchestra chair could be had, not a balcony seat, nor a gallery seat; not even for their weight in gold.

The place swarmed with boys and girls of all ages and sizes, wriggling and dancing about in a fever of impatience to see the famous Donkey dance.

When the first part of the performance was over, the Owner and Manager of the circus, in a black coat, white knee breeches, and patent leather boots, presented himself to the public and in a loud, pompous voice made the following announcement:

“Most honored friends, Gentlemen and Ladies!

“Your humble servant, the Manager of this theater, presents himself before you tonight in order to introduce to you the greatest, the most famous Donkey in the world, a Donkey that has had the great honor in his short life of performing before the kings and queens and emperors of all the great courts of Europe.

“We thank you for your attention!”

This speech was greeted by much laughter and applause. And the applause grew to a roar when Pinocchio, the famous Donkey, appeared in the circus ring. He was handsomely arrayed. A new bridle of shining leather with buckles of polished brass was on his back; two white camellias were tied to his ears; ribbons and tassels of red silk adorned his mane, which was divided into many curls. A great sash of gold and silver was fastened around his waist and his tail was decorated with ribbons of many brilliant colors. He was a handsome Donkey indeed!

The Manager, when introducing him to the public, added these words:

“Most honored audience! I shall not take your time tonight to tell you of the great difficulties which I have encountered while trying to tame this animal, since I found him in the wilds of Africa. Observe, I beg of you, the savage look of his eye. All the means used by centuries of civilization in subduing wild beasts failed in this case. I had finally to resort to the gentle language of the whip in order to bring him to my will. With all my kindness, however, I never succeeded in gaining my Donkey’s love. He is still today as savage as the day I found him. He still fears and hates me. But I have found in him one great redeeming feature. Do you see this little bump on his forehead? It is this bump which gives him his great talent of dancing and using his feet as nimbly as a human being. Admire him, O signori, and enjoy yourselves. I let you, now, be the judges of my success as a teacher of animals. Before I leave you, I wish to state that there will be another performance tomorrow night. If the weather threatens rain, the great spectacle will take place at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

The Manager bowed and then turned to Pinocchio and said: “Ready, Pinocchio! Before starting your performance, salute your audience!”

Pinocchio obediently bent his two knees to the ground and remained kneeling until the Manager, with the crack of the whip, cried sharply: “Walk!”

The Donkey lifted himself on his four feet and walked around the ring. A few minutes passed and again the voice of the Manager called:

“Quickstep!” and Pinocchio obediently changed his step.

“Gallop!” and Pinocchio galloped.

“Full speed!” and Pinocchio ran as fast as he could. As he ran the master raised his arm and a pistol shot rang in the air.

At the shot, the little Donkey fell to the ground as if he were really dead.

A shower of applause greeted the Donkey as he arose to his feet. Cries and shouts and handclappings were heard on all sides.

At all that noise, Pinocchio lifted his head and raised his eyes. There, in front of him, in a box sat a beautiful woman. Around her neck she wore a long gold chain, from which hung a large medallion. On the medallion was painted the picture of a Marionette.

“That picture is of me! That beautiful lady is my Fairy!” said Pinocchio to himself, recognizing her. He felt so happy that he tried his best to cry out:

“Oh, my Fairy! My own Fairy!”

But instead of words, a loud braying was heard in the theater, so loud and so long that all the spectators—men, women, and children, but especially the children—burst out laughing.

Then, in order to teach the Donkey that it was not good manners to bray before the public, the Manager hit him on the nose with the handle of the whip.

The poor little Donkey stuck out a long tongue and licked his nose for a long time in an effort to take away the pain.

And what was his grief when on looking up toward the boxes, he saw that the Fairy had disappeared!

He felt himself fainting, his eyes filled with tears, and he wept bitterly. No one knew it, however, least of all the Manager, who, cracking his whip, cried out:

“Bravo, Pinocchio! Now show us how gracefully you can jump through the rings.”

Pinocchio tried two or three times, but each time he came near the ring, he found it more to his taste to go under it. The fourth time, at a look from his master he leaped through it, but as he did so his hind legs caught in the ring and he fell to the floor in a heap.

When he got up, he was lame and could hardly limp as far as the stable.

“Pinocchio! We want Pinocchio! We want the little Donkey!” cried the boys from the orchestra, saddened by the accident.

No one saw Pinocchio again that evening.

The next morning the veterinary—that is, the animal doctor—declared that he would be lame for the rest of his life.

“What do I want with a lame donkey?” said the Manager to the stableboy. “Take him to the market and sell him.”

When they reached the square, a buyer was soon found.

“How much do you ask for that little lame Donkey?” he asked.

“Four dollars.”

“I’ll give you four cents. Don’t think I’m buying him for work. I want only his skin. It looks very tough and I can use it to make myself a drumhead. I belong to a musical band in my village and I need a drum.”

I leave it to you, my dear children, to picture to yourself the great pleasure with which Pinocchio heard that he was to become a drumhead!

As soon as the buyer had paid the four cents, the Donkey changed hands. His new owner took him to a high cliff overlooking the sea, put a stone around his neck, tied a rope to one of his hind feet, gave him a push, and threw him into the water.

Pinocchio sank immediately. And his new master sat on the cliff waiting for him to drown, so as to skin him and make himself a drumhead.