THEADVENTURESOFPINOCCHIO

byC.Collodi[PseudonymofCarloLorenzini]

TranslatedfromtheItalianbyCarolDellaChiesa

CONTENTS

CHAPTER1

CHAPTER2

CHAPTER3

CHAPTER4

CHAPTER5

CHAPTER6

CHAPTER7

CHAPTER8

CHAPTER9

CHAPTER10

CHAPTER11

CHAPTER12

CHAPTER13

CHAPTER14

CHAPTER15

CHAPTER16

CHAPTER17

CHAPTER18

CHAPTER19

CHAPTER20

CHAPTER21

CHAPTER22

CHAPTER23

CHAPTER24

CHAPTER25

CHAPTER26

CHAPTER27

CHAPTER28

CHAPTER29

CHAPTER30

CHAPTER31

CHAPTER32

CHAPTER33

CHAPTER34

CHAPTER35

CHAPTER36

CHAPTER1

How it happened thatMastroCherry, carpenter, found a pieceofwood thatweptandlaughedlikeachild.Centuriesagotherelived—“Aking!”mylittlereaderswillsayimmediately.No,children,youaremistaken.Onceuponatimetherewasapieceofwood.

It was not an expensive piece ofwood. Far from it. Just a common block offirewood,oneofthosethick,solidlogsthatareputonthefireinwintertomakecoldroomscozyandwarm.Idonotknowhowthisreallyhappened,yetthefactremainsthatonefineday

thispieceofwoodfounditselfintheshopofanoldcarpenter.HisrealnamewasMastroAntonio,buteveryonecalledhimMastroCherry,forthetipofhisnosewassoroundandredandshinythatitlookedlikearipecherry.As soon as he saw that piece of wood,Mastro Cherrywas filledwith joy.

Rubbinghishandstogetherhappily,hemumbledhalftohimself:“Thishascomeinthenickoftime.Ishalluseittomakethelegofatable.”Hegraspedthehatchetquicklytopeeloffthebarkandshapethewood.Butas

hewasabouttogiveitthefirstblow,hestoodstillwitharmuplifted,forhehadheardawee,littlevoicesayinabeseechingtone:“Pleasebecareful!Donothitmesohard!”What a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry’s face! His funny face

becamestillfunnier.He turned frightened eyes about the room to find outwhere thatwee, little

voicehadcomefromandhesawnoone!Helookedunderthebench—noone!Hepeepedinsidethecloset—noone!Hesearchedamongtheshavings—noone!Heopenedthedoortolookupanddownthestreet—andstillnoone!“Oh,Isee!”he thensaid, laughingandscratchinghisWig.“Itcaneasilybe

seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say thewords!Well, well—toworkoncemore.”Hestruckamostsolemnblowuponthepieceofwood.“Oh,oh!Youhurt!”criedthesamefar-awaylittlevoice.MastroCherrygrewdumb,hiseyespoppedoutofhishead,hismouthopened

wide,andhistonguehungdownonhischin.Assoonasheregainedtheuseofhissenses,hesaid,tremblingandstuttering

fromfright:“Wheredidthatvoicecomefrom,whenthereisnoonearound?Mightitbe

that thispieceofwoodhas learned toweepandcry likea child? I canhardlybelieve it.Here it is—a piece of common firewood, good only to burn in thestove, the same as any other.Yet—might someone be hidden in it? If so, theworseforhim.I’llfixhim!”Withthesewords,hegrabbedthelogwithbothhandsandstartedtoknockit

aboutunmercifully.Hethrewit tothefloor,against thewallsof theroom,andevenuptotheceiling.He listened for the tiny voice to moan and cry. He waited two minutes—

nothing;fiveminutes—nothing;tenminutes—nothing.“Oh,Isee,”hesaid,tryingbravelytolaughandrufflinguphiswigwithhis

hand.“ItcaneasilybeseenIonlyimaginedIheardthetinyvoice!Well,well—toworkoncemore!”Thepoor fellowwas scaredhalf to death, sohe tried to sing a gay song in

ordertogaincourage.Hesetasidethehatchetandpickeduptheplanetomakethewoodsmoothand

even, but as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny voice. This time itgiggledasitspoke:“Stopit!Oh,stopit!Ha,ha,ha!Youticklemystomach.”This time poorMastroCherry fell as if shot.When he opened his eyes, he

foundhimselfsittingonthefloor.Hisfacehadchanged;frighthadturnedeventhe tipofhisnosefromredto

deepestpurple.

CHAPTER2

MastroCherrygivesthepieceofwoodtohisfriendGeppetto,whotakesittomakehimselfaMarionettethatwilldance,fence,andturnsomersaults.In thatvery instant, a loudknocksoundedon thedoor. “Come in,” said the

carpenter,nothavinganatomofstrengthleftwithwhichtostandup.Atthewords,thedooropenedandadapperlittleoldmancamein.Hisname

was Geppetto, but to the boys of the neighborhood he was Polendina,* onaccountofthewighealwaysworewhichwasjustthecolorofyellowcorn.

* Cornmealmush

Geppettohadaverybad temper.Woeto theonewhocalledhimPolendina!Hebecameaswildasabeastandnoonecouldsoothehim.“Good day, Mastro Antonio,” said Geppetto. “What are you doing on the

floor?”“IamteachingtheantstheirABC’s.”“Goodlucktoyou!”“Whatbroughtyouhere,friendGeppetto?”“Mylegs.Anditmayflatteryoutoknow,MastroAntonio,thatIhavecome

toyoutobegforafavor.”“HereIam,atyourservice,”answeredthecarpenter,raisinghimselfontohis

knees.“Thismorningafineideacametome.”“Let’shearit.”“I thought of making myself a beautiful wooden Marionette. It must be

wonderful,onethatwillbeabletodance,fence,andturnsomersaults.WithitIintendtogoaroundtheworld,toearnmycrustofbreadandcupofwine.Whatdoyouthinkofit?”“Bravo,Polendina!”criedthesametinyvoicewhichcamefromnooneknew

where.Onhearinghimself calledPolendina,MastroGeppetto turned thecolorof a

redpepperand,facingthecarpenter,saidtohimangrily:“Whydoyouinsultme?”“Whoisinsultingyou?”

“YoucalledmePolendina.”“Ididnot.”“IsupposeyouthinkIdid!YetIKNOWitwasyou.”“No!”“Yes!”“No!”“Yes!”And growing angrier each moment, they went from words to blows, and

finallybegantoscratchandbiteandslapeachother.When the fightwasover,MastroAntoniohadGeppetto’syellowwig inhis

handsandGeppettofoundthecarpenter’scurlywiginhismouth.“Givemebackmywig!”shoutedMastroAntonioinasurlyvoice.“Youreturnmineandwe’llbefriends.”Thetwolittleoldmen,eachwithhisownwigbackonhisownhead,shook

handsandsworetobegoodfriendsfortherestoftheirlives.“Wellthen,MastroGeppetto,”saidthecarpenter,toshowheborehimnoill

will,“whatisityouwant?”“IwantapieceofwoodtomakeaMarionette.Willyougiveittome?”MastroAntonio,veryglad indeed,went immediately tohisbench toget the

pieceofwoodwhichhadfrightenedhimsomuch.Butashewasabouttogiveittohisfriend,withaviolentjerkitslippedoutofhishandsandhitagainstpoorGeppetto’sthinlegs.“Ah!Is this thegentleway,MastroAntonio, inwhichyoumakeyourgifts?

Youhavemademealmostlame!”“IsweartoyouIdidnotdoit!”“ItwasI,ofcourse!”“It’sthefaultofthispieceofwood.”“You’reright;butrememberyouweretheonetothrowitatmylegs.”“Ididnotthrowit!”“Liar!”“Geppetto,donotinsultmeorIshallcallyouPolendina.”“Idiot.”“Polendina!”

“Donkey!”“Polendina!”“Uglymonkey!”“Polendina!”OnhearinghimselfcalledPolendinaforthethirdtime,Geppettolosthishead

withrageandthrewhimselfuponthecarpenter.Thenandtheretheygaveeachotherasoundthrashing.After this fight, Mastro Antonio had two more scratches on his nose, and

Geppetto had two buttons missing from his coat. Thus having settled theiraccounts, they shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of theirlives.Then Geppetto took the fine piece of wood, thankedMastro Antonio, and

limpedawaytowardhome.

CHAPTER3

As soon as he gets home, Geppetto fashions the Marionette and calls itPinocchio.ThefirstpranksoftheMarionette.Little asGeppetto’s housewas, itwas neat and comfortable. Itwas a small

roomonthegroundfloor,withatinywindowunderthestairway.Thefurniturecould not have beenmuch simpler: a very old chair, a rickety old bed, and atumble-down table. A fireplace full of burning logs was painted on the walloppositethedoor.Overthefire,therewaspaintedapotfullofsomethingwhichkeptboilinghappilyawayandsendingupcloudsofwhatlookedlikerealsteam.As soon as he reachedhome,Geppetto tookhis tools andbegan to cut and

shapethewoodintoaMarionette.“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 ofPinocchi once—Pinocchio the father, Pinocchia the mother, and Pinocchi thechildren—andtheywerealllucky.Therichestofthembeggedforhisliving.”AfterchoosingthenameforhisMarionette,Geppettosetseriouslytoworkto

make thehair, the forehead, the eyes.Fancyhis surprisewhenhenoticed thatthese eyes moved and then stared fixedly at him. Geppetto, seeing this, feltinsultedandsaidinagrievedtone:“Uglywoodeneyes,whydoyoustareso?”Therewasnoanswer.After the eyes,Geppettomade the nose,which began to stretch as soon as

finished.Itstretchedandstretchedandstretchedtillitbecamesolong,itseemedendless.PoorGeppettokept cutting it andcutting it,but themorehecut, the longer

grewthatimpertinentnose.Indespairheletitalone.Nexthemadethemouth.Nosoonerwasitfinishedthanitbegantolaughandpokefunathim.“Stoplaughing!”saidGeppettoangrily;buthemightaswellhavespokento

thewall.“Stoplaughing,Isay!”heroaredinavoiceofthunder.Themouthstoppedlaughing,butitstuckoutalongtongue.

Notwishingtostartanargument,Geppettomadebelievehesawnothingandwentonwithhiswork.After themouth,hemade the chin, then theneck, theshoulders,thestomach,thearms,andthehands.Ashewasabout toput the last toucheson the finger tips,Geppetto felthis

wigbeingpulledoff.Heglancedupandwhatdidhesee?HisyellowwigwasintheMarionette’shand.“Pinocchio,givememywig!”But insteadof giving it back,Pinocchioput it onhis ownhead,whichwas

halfswallowedupinit.At that unexpected trick,Geppettobecamevery sad anddowncast,more so

thanhehadeverbeenbefore.“Pinocchio,youwickedboy!”hecriedout.“Youarenotyetfinished,andyou

startoutbybeingimpudenttoyourpooroldfather.Verybad,myson,verybad!”Andhewipedawayatear.Thelegsandfeetstillhadtobemade.Assoonastheyweredone,Geppetto

feltasharpkickonthetipofhisnose.“Ideserveit!”hesaidtohimself.“IshouldhavethoughtofthisbeforeImade

him.Nowit’stoolate!”He tookhold of theMarionette under the arms andput himon the floor to

teachhimtowalk.Pinocchio’slegsweresostiffthathecouldnotmovethem,andGeppettoheld

hishandandshowedhimhowtoputoutonefootaftertheother.When his legswere limbered up, Pinocchio startedwalking by himself and

ranallaroundtheroom.Hecametotheopendoor,andwithoneleaphewasoutintothestreet.Awayheflew!PoorGeppettoranafterhimbutwasunabletocatchhim,forPinocchioranin

leapsandbounds,histwowoodenfeet,astheybeatonthestonesofthestreet,makingasmuchnoiseastwentypeasantsinwoodenshoes.“Catchhim!Catchhim!”Geppettokeptshouting.Butthepeopleinthestreet,

seeing a woodenMarionette running like thewind, stood still to stare and tolaughuntiltheycried.At last, by sheer luck, aCarabineer* happened along,who, hearing all that

noise,thoughtthatitmightbearunawaycolt,andstoodbravelyinthemiddleofthe street, with legs wide apart, firmly resolved to stop it and prevent anytrouble.*Amilitarypoliceman

PinocchiosawtheCarabineerfromafarandtriedhisbesttoescapebetween

thelegsofthebigfellow,butwithoutsuccess.TheCarabineergrabbedhimby thenose (itwasanextremely longoneand

seemed made on purpose for that very thing) and returned him to MastroGeppetto.The littleoldmanwanted topullPinocchio’sears.Thinkhowhefeltwhen,

uponsearchingforthem,hediscoveredthathehadforgottentomakethem!AllhecoulddowastoseizePinocchiobythebackoftheneckandtakehim

home.As hewas doing so, he shook him two or three times and said to himangrily:“We’regoinghomenow.Whenwegethome,thenwe’llsettlethismatter!”Pinocchio,onhearing this, threwhimselfon thegroundand refused to take

anotherstep.Onepersonafteranothergatheredaroundthetwo.Somesaidonething,someanother.“PoorMarionette,”calledoutaman.“Iamnotsurprisedhedoesn’twant to

go home. Geppetto, no doubt, will beat him unmercifully, he is somean andcruel!”“Geppettolookslikeagoodman,”addedanother,“butwithboyshe’sareal

tyrant.IfweleavethatpoorMarionetteinhishandshemaytearhimtopieces!”They said so much that, finally, the Carabineer ended matters by setting

Pinocchio at liberty anddraggingGeppetto toprison.Thepoorold fellowdidnot know how to defend himself, but wept and wailed like a child and saidbetweenhissobs:“Ungrateful boy! To think I tried so hard to make you a well-behaved

Marionette!Ideserveit,however!Ishouldhavegiventhemattermorethought.”Whathappenedafterthisisanalmostunbelievablestory,butyoumayreadit,

dearchildren,inthechaptersthatfollow.

CHAPTER4

The story ofPinocchio and theTalkingCricket, inwhichone sees that badchildrendonotliketobecorrectedbythosewhoknowmorethantheydo.VerylittletimedidittaketogetpooroldGeppettotoprison.Inthemeantime

thatrascal,Pinocchio,freenowfromtheclutchesoftheCarabineer,wasrunningwildly across fields and meadows, taking one short cut after another towardhome.Inhiswildflight,heleapedoverbramblesandbushes,andacrossbrooksandponds,asifhewereagoatoraharechasedbyhounds.On reaching home, he found the house door half open.He slipped into the

room,lockedthedoor,andthrewhimselfonthefloor,happyathisescape.But his happiness lasted only a short time, for just then he heard someone

saying:“Cri-cri-cri!”“Whoiscallingme?”askedPinocchio,greatlyfrightened.“Iam!”Pinocchioturnedandsawalargecricketcrawlingslowlyupthewall.“Tellme,Cricket,whoareyou?”“IamtheTalkingCricketandIhavebeenlivinginthisroomformorethan

onehundredyears.”“Today,however,thisroomismine,”saidtheMarionette,“andifyouwishto

domeafavor,getoutnow,anddon’tturnaroundevenonce.”“I refuse to leave this spot,” answered theCricket, “until I have told you a

greattruth.”“Tellit,then,andhurry.”“Woetoboyswhorefusetoobeytheirparentsandrunawayfromhome!They

will never be happy in thisworld, andwhen they are older theywill be verysorryforit.”“Sing on, Cricket mine, as you please. What I know is, that tomorrow, at

dawn,Ileavethisplaceforever.IfIstayherethesamethingwillhappentomewhichhappenstoallotherboysandgirls.Theyaresenttoschool,andwhethertheywanttoornot,theymuststudy.Asforme,letmetellyou,Ihatetostudy!It’smuchmorefun,Ithink,tochaseafterbutterflies,climbtrees,andstealbirds’

nests.”“Poor littlesilly!Don’tyouknowthat ifyougoon like that,youwillgrow

intoaperfectdonkeyandthatyou’llbethelaughingstockofeveryone?”“Keepstill,youuglyCricket!”criedPinocchio.ButtheCricket,whowasawiseoldphilosopher,insteadofbeingoffendedat

Pinocchio’simpudence,continuedinthesametone:“Ifyoudonotlikegoingtoschool,whydon’tyouatleastlearnatrade,sothat

youcanearnanhonestliving?”“Shall I tell you something?” asked Pinocchio, who was beginning to lose

patience.“Ofallthetradesintheworld,thereisonlyonethatreallysuitsme.”“Andwhatcanthatbe?”“That of eating, drinking, sleeping, playing, and wandering around from

morningtillnight.”“Letmetellyou,foryourowngood,Pinocchio,”saidtheTalkingCricketin

hiscalmvoice,“thatthosewhofollowthattradealwaysendupinthehospitalorinprison.”“Careful,uglyCricket!Ifyoumakemeangry,you’llbesorry!”“PoorPinocchio,Iamsorryforyou.”“Why?”“BecauseyouareaMarionetteand,whatismuchworse,youhaveawooden

head.”Attheselastwords,Pinocchiojumpedupinafury,tookahammerfromthe

bench,andthrewitwithallhisstrengthattheTalkingCricket.Perhaps he did not think he would strike it. But, sad to relate, my dear

children,hedidhittheCricket,straightonitshead.Withalastweak“cri-cri-cri”thepoorCricketfellfromthewall,dead!

CHAPTER5

Pinocchio ishungryand looksforanegg tocookhimselfanomelet;but, tohissurprise,theomeletfliesoutofthewindow.If the Cricket’s death scared Pinocchio at all, it was only for a very few

moments.For,asnightcameon,aqueer,emptyfeelingatthepitofhisstomachremindedtheMarionettethathehadeatennothingasyet.A boy’s appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments the queer, empty

feelinghadbecomehunger,andthehungergrewbiggerandbigger,untilsoonhewasasravenousasabear.PoorPinocchio ran to the fireplacewhere thepotwasboiling and stretched

out his hand to take the cover off, but to his amazement the pot was onlypainted!Thinkhowhefelt!Hislongnosebecameatleasttwoincheslonger.He ran about the room, dug in all the boxes and drawers, and even looked

underthebedinsearchofapieceofbread,hardthoughitmightbe,oracookie,orperhapsabitoffish.Aboneleftbyadogwouldhavetastedgoodtohim!Buthefoundnothing.Andmeanwhilehishungergrewandgrew.TheonlyreliefpoorPinocchiohad

was to yawn; and he certainly did yawn, such a big yawn that his mouthstretchedouttothetipsofhisears.Soonhebecamedizzyandfaint.Heweptandwailed to himself: “The Talking Cricket was right. It was wrong of me todisobeyFatherandtorunawayfromhome.Ifhewereherenow,Iwouldn’tbesohungry!Oh,howhorribleitistobehungry!”Suddenly, he saw, among the sweepings in a corner, something round and

white that lookedverymuchlikeahen’segg. Ina jiffyhepounceduponit. Itwasanegg.TheMarionette’sjoyknewnobounds.Itisimpossibletodescribeit,youmust

pictureittoyourself.Certainthathewasdreaming,heturnedtheeggoverandoverinhishands,fondledit,kissedit,andtalkedtoit:“Andnow,howshallIcookyou?ShallImakeanomelet?No,itisbetterto

fryyouinapan!OrshallIdrinkyou?No,thebestwayistofryyouinthepan.Youwilltastebetter.”Nosoonersaidthandone.Heplacedalittlepanoverafootwarmerfullofhot

coals.Inthepan,insteadofoilorbutter,hepouredalittlewater.Assoonasthe

waterstartedtoboil—tac!—hebroketheeggshell.Butinplaceofthewhiteandtheyolkof theegg, a littleyellowChick, fluffyandgayand smiling, escapedfromit.BowingpolitelytoPinocchio,hesaidtohim:“Many,manythanks,indeed,Mr.Pinocchio,forhavingsavedmethetrouble

ofbreakingmyshell!Good-byandgood luck toyouandrememberme to thefamily!”Withthesewordshespreadouthiswingsand,dartingtotheopenwindow,he

flewawayintospacetillhewasoutofsight.ThepoorMarionettestoodasifturnedtostone,withwideeyes,openmouth,

andtheemptyhalvesoftheegg-shellinhishands.Whenhecametohimself,hebegantocryandshriekatthetopofhislungs,stampinghisfeetonthegroundandwailingallthewhile:“TheTalkingCricketwasright!IfIhadnotrunawayfromhomeandifFather

were here now, I should not be dying of hunger.Oh, how horrible it is to behungry!”And as his stomach kept grumblingmore than ever and he had nothing to

quiet itwith, he thoughtof goingout for awalk to thenear-byvillage, in thehopeoffindingsomecharitablepersonwhomightgivehimabitofbread.

CHAPTER6

Pinocchio fallsasleepwithhis feetona footwarmer,andawakens thenextdaywithhisfeetallburnedoff.Pinocchiohatedthedarkstreet,buthewassohungrythat,inspiteofit,heran

outofthehouse.Thenightwaspitchblack.It thundered,andbrightflashesoflightning now and again shot across the sky, turning it into a sea of fire. Anangrywindblewcoldandraiseddensecloudsofdust,whilethetreesshookandmoanedinaweirdway.Pinocchiowasgreatlyafraidof thunderandlightning,but thehungerhefelt

wasfargreaterthanhisfear.Inadozenleapsandbounds,hecametothevillage,tiredout,puffinglikeawhale,andwithtonguehanging.Thewholevillagewasdarkanddeserted.Thestoreswereclosed, thedoors,

thewindows.Inthestreets,notevenadogcouldbeseen.ItseemedtheVillageoftheDead.Pinocchio, indesperation, ranup toadoorway, threwhimselfuponthebell,

andpulleditwildly,sayingtohimself:“Someonewillsurelyanswerthat!”Hewasright.Anoldmaninanightcapopenedthewindowandlookedout.

Hecalleddownangrily:“Whatdoyouwantatthishourofnight?”“Willyoubegoodenoughtogivemeabitofbread?Iamhungry.”“WaitaminuteandI’llcomerightback,”answeredtheoldfellow,thinkinghe

had to dealwith one of those boyswho love to roam around at night ringingpeople’sbellswhiletheyarepeacefullyasleep.Afteraminuteortwo,thesamevoicecried:“Getunderthewindowandholdoutyourhat!”Pinocchiohadnohat,buthemanagedtogetunderthewindowjustintimeto

feel a shower of ice-cold water pour down on his poor wooden head, hisshoulders,andoverhiswholebody.Hereturnedhomeaswetasarag,andtiredoutfromwearinessandhunger.Ashenolongerhadanystrengthleftwithwhichtostand,hesatdownona

littlestoolandputhistwofeetonthestovetodrythem.There he fell asleep, and while he slept, his wooden feet began to burn.

Slowly,veryslowly,theyblackenedandturnedtoashes.Pinocchio snoredawayhappily as if his feetwerenothisown.Atdawnhe

openedhiseyesjustasaloudknockingsoundedatthedoor.“Whoisit?”hecalled,yawningandrubbinghiseyes.“ItisI,”answeredavoice.ItwasthevoiceofGeppetto.

CHAPTER7

GeppettoreturnshomeandgiveshisownbreakfasttotheMarionette

ThepoorMarionette,whowasstillhalfasleep,hadnotyetfoundoutthathistwo feet were burned and gone. As soon as he heard his Father’s voice, hejumpedupfromhisseattoopenthedoor,but,ashedidso,hestaggeredandfellheadlongtothefloor.In falling, hemade asmuch noise as a sack ofwood falling from the fifth

storyofahouse.“Openthedoorforme!”Geppettoshoutedfromthestreet.“Father,dearFather,Ican’t,”answeredtheMarionetteindespair,cryingand

rollingonthefloor.“Whycan’tyou?”“Becausesomeonehaseatenmyfeet.”“Andwhohaseatenthem?”“The cat,” answeredPinocchio, seeing that little animal busily playingwith

someshavingsinthecorneroftheroom.“Open!Isay,”repeatedGeppetto,“orI’llgiveyouasoundwhippingwhenI

getin.”“Father,believeme,Ican’tstandup.Oh,dear!Oh,dear!Ishallhavetowalk

onmykneesallmylife.”Geppetto,thinkingthatallthesetearsandcrieswereonlyotherpranksofthe

Marionette,climbedupthesideofthehouseandwentinthroughthewindow.Atfirsthewasveryangry,butonseeingPinocchiostretchedoutonthefloor

andreallywithoutfeet,hefeltverysadandsorrowful.Pickinghimupfromthefloor,hefondledandcaressedhim,talkingtohimwhilethetearsrandownhischeeks:“MylittlePinocchio,mydearlittlePinocchio!Howdidyouburnyourfeet?”“Idon’tknow,Father,butbelieveme,thenighthasbeenaterribleoneandI

shallrememberitaslongasIlive.Thethunderwassonoisyandthelightningsobright—andIwashungry.AndthentheTalkingCricketsaidtome,‘Youdeserve

it;youwerebad;’andIsaidtohim,‘Careful,Cricket;’andhesaidtome,‘YouareaMarionetteandyouhaveawoodenhead;’andIthrewthehammerathimandkilledhim.Itwashisownfault,forIdidn’twanttokillhim.AndIputthepan on the coals, but the Chick flew away and said, ‘I’ll see you again!Remembermetothefamily.’Andmyhungergrew,andIwentout,andtheoldmanwith a nightcap lookedout of thewindowand threwwater onme, and IcamehomeandputmyfeetonthestovetodrythembecauseIwasstillhungry,and I fell asleep andnowmy feet are gonebutmyhunger isn’t!Oh!—Oh!—Oh!”AndpoorPinocchiobegan to screamandcry so loudly thathe couldbeheardformilesaround.Geppetto,whohadunderstoodnothingofallthatjumbledtalk,exceptthatthe

Marionette was hungry, felt sorry for him, and pulling three pears out of hispocket,offeredthemtohim,saying:“Thesethreepearswereformybreakfast,butIgivethemtoyougladly.Eat

themandstopweeping.”“Ifyouwantmetoeatthem,pleasepeelthemforme.”“Peel them?” asked Geppetto, very much surprised. “I should never have

thought,dearboyofmine, thatyouweresodaintyandfussyaboutyourfood.Bad,verybad!In thisworld,evenaschildren,wemustaccustomourselves toeatofeverything,forweneverknowwhatlifemayholdinstoreforus!”“Youmayberight,”answeredPinocchio,“butIwillnoteatthepearsifthey

arenotpeeled.Idon’tlikethem.”AndgoodoldGeppetto tookoutaknife,peeled the threepears,andput the

skinsinarowonthetable.Pinocchioateonepearinatwinklingandstartedtothrowthecoreaway,but

Geppettoheldhisarm.“Oh,no,don’tthrowitaway!Everythinginthisworldmaybeofsomeuse!”“ButthecoreIwillnoteat!”criedPinocchioinanangrytone.“Whoknows?”repeatedGeppettocalmly.Andlaterthethreecoreswereplacedonthetablenexttotheskins.Pinocchiohadeatenthethreepears,orratherdevouredthem.Thenheyawned

deeply,andwailed:“I’mstillhungry.”“ButIhavenomoretogiveyou.”“Really,nothing—nothing?”

“Ihaveonlythesethreecoresandtheseskins.”“Verywell,then,”saidPinocchio,“ifthereisnothingelseI’lleatthem.”At first hemade awry face, but, one after another, the skins and the cores

disappeared.“Ah!NowIfeelfine!”hesaidaftereatingthelastone.“Yousee,”observedGeppetto,“thatIwasrightwhenItoldyouthatonemust

notbe toofussyandtoodaintyaboutfood.Mydear,weneverknowwhat lifemayhaveinstoreforus!”

CHAPTER8

GeppettomakesPinocchioanewpairoffeet,andsellshiscoattobuyhimanA-B-Cbook.TheMarionette,assoonashishungerwasappeased,startedtogrumbleand

crythathewantedanewpairoffeet.ButMastroGeppetto, inorder topunishhimforhismischief, lethimalone

thewholemorning.Afterdinnerhesaidtohim:“WhyshouldImakeyourfeetoveragain?Toseeyourunawayfromhome

oncemore?”“Ipromiseyou,”answeredtheMarionette,sobbing,“thatfromnowonI’llbe

good—”“Boysalwayspromisethatwhentheywantsomething,”saidGeppetto.“Ipromisetogotoschooleveryday,tostudy,andtosucceed—”“Boysalwayssingthatsongwhentheywanttheirownwill.”“ButIamnotlikeotherboys!IambetterthanallofthemandIalwaystellthe

truth. Ipromiseyou,Father, that I’ll learna trade, and I’llbe thecomfort andstaffofyouroldage.”Geppetto,thoughtryingtolookverystern,felthiseyesfillwithtearsandhis

heartsoftenwhenhesawPinocchiosounhappy.Hesaidnomore,buttakinghistoolsandtwopiecesofwood,hesettoworkdiligently.In less than an hour the feet were finished, two slender, nimble little feet,

strongandquick,modeledasifbyanartist’shands.“Closeyoureyesandsleep!”GeppettothensaidtotheMarionette.Pinocchioclosedhiseyesandpretendedtobeasleep,whileGeppettostuckon

thetwofeetwithabitofgluemeltedinaneggshell,doinghisworksowellthatthejointcouldhardlybeseen.AssoonastheMarionettefelthisnewfeet,hegaveoneleapfromthetable

andstartedtoskipandjumparound,asifhehadlosthisheadfromveryjoy.“ToshowyouhowgratefulIamtoyou,Father,I’llgotoschoolnow.Butto

gotoschoolIneedasuitofclothes.”Geppettodidnothaveapennyinhispocket,sohemadehissonalittlesuitof

floweredpaper,apairofshoesfromthebarkofatree,andatinycapfromabit

ofdough.Pinocchiorantolookathimselfinabowlofwater,andhefeltsohappythat

hesaidproudly:“NowIlooklikeagentleman.”“Truly,”answeredGeppetto.“Butrememberthatfineclothesdonotmakethe

manunlesstheybeneatandclean.”“Very true,” answeredPinocchio, “but, in order to go to school, I still need

somethingveryimportant.”“Whatisit?”“AnA-B-Cbook.”“Tobesure!Buthowshallwegetit?”“That’seasy.We’llgotoabookstoreandbuyit.”“Andthemoney?”“Ihavenone.”“NeitherhaveI,”saidtheoldmansadly.Pinocchio,althoughahappyboyalways,becamesadanddowncastat these

words.When poverty shows itself, evenmischievous boys understandwhat itmeans.“Whatdoesitmatter,afterall?”criedGeppettoallatonce,ashejumpedup

fromhischair.Puttingonhisoldcoat,fullofdarnsandpatches,heranoutofthehousewithoutanotherword.Afterawhilehereturned.InhishandshehadtheA-B-Cbookforhisson,but

theoldcoatwasgone.Thepoorfellowwasinhisshirtsleevesandthedaywascold.“Where’syourcoat,Father?”“Ihavesoldit.”“Whydidyousellyourcoat?”“Itwastoowarm.”Pinocchio understood the answer in a twinkling, and, unable to restrain his

tears,hejumpedonhisfather’sneckandkissedhimoverandover.

CHAPTER9

PinocchiosellshisA-B-CbooktopayhiswayintotheMarionetteTheater.SeePinocchiohurryingofftoschoolwithhisnewA-B-Cbookunderhisarm!

Ashewalkedalong,hisbrainwasbusyplanninghundredsofwonderfulthings,buildinghundredsofcastlesintheair.Talkingtohimself,hesaid:“In school today, I’ll learn to read, tomorrow to write, and the day after

tomorrowI’lldoarithmetic.Then,cleverasIam,Icanearnalotofmoney.WiththeveryfirstpenniesImake,I’llbuyFatheranewclothcoat.Cloth,didIsay?No,itshallbeofgoldandsilverwithdiamondbuttons.Thatpoormancertainlydeservesit;for,afterall,isn’theinhisshirtsleevesbecausehewasgoodenoughtobuyabook forme?On this coldday, too!Fathers are indeedgood to theirchildren!”As he talked to himself, he thought he heard sounds of pipes and drums

comingfromadistance:pi-pi-pi,pi-pi-pi...zum,zum,zum,zum.Hestoppedtolisten.Thosesoundscamefromalittlestreetthatledtoasmall

villagealongtheshore.“What can that noise be? What a nuisance that I have to go to school!

Otherwise...”Therehestopped,verymuchpuzzled.Hefelthehadtomakeuphismindfor

either one thing or another. Should he go to school, or should he follow thepipes?“TodayI’ll followthepipes,andtomorrowI’llgotoschool.There’salways

plenty of time to go to school,” decided the little rascal at last, shrugging hisshoulders.Nosoonersaidthandone.Hestarteddownthestreet,goinglikethewind.On

heran,andloudergrewthesoundsofpipeanddrum:pi-pi-pi,pi-pi-pi,pi-pi-pi...zum,zum,zum,zum.Suddenly,hefoundhimselfinalargesquare,fullofpeoplestandinginfront

ofalittlewoodenbuildingpaintedinbrilliantcolors.“Whatisthathouse?”Pinocchioaskedalittleboynearhim.“Readthesignandyou’llknow.”“I’dliketoread,butsomehowIcan’ttoday.”

“Oh,really?ThenI’llreadittoyou.Know,then,thatwritteninlettersoffireIseethewords:GREATMARIONETTETHEATER.“Whendidtheshowstart?”“Itisstartingnow.”“Andhowmuchdoesonepaytogetin?”“Fourpennies.”Pinocchio,whowaswildwith curiosity to knowwhatwasgoingon inside,

lostallhisprideandsaidtotheboyshamelessly:“Willyougivemefourpenniesuntiltomorrow?”“I’dgivethemtoyougladly,”answeredtheother,pokingfunathim,“butjust

nowIcan’tgivethemtoyou.”“Forthepriceoffourpennies,I’llsellyoumycoat.”“Ifitrains,whatshallIdowithacoatoffloweredpaper?Icouldnottakeit

offagain.”“Doyouwanttobuymyshoes?”“Theyareonlygoodenoughtolightafirewith.”“Whataboutmyhat?”“Finebargain,indeed!Acapofdough!Themicemightcomeandeatitfrom

myhead!”Pinocchiowasalmostintears.Hewasjustabouttomakeonelastoffer,buthe

lackedthecourage todoso.Hehesitated,hewondered,hecouldnotmakeuphismind.Atlasthesaid:“Willyougivemefourpenniesforthebook?”“IamaboyandIbuynothingfromboys,”saidthelittlefellowwithfarmore

commonsensethantheMarionette.“I’llgiveyoufourpenniesforyourA-B-Cbook,”saidaragpickerwhostood

by.Thenandthere,thebookchangedhands.AndtothinkthatpooroldGeppetto

satathomeinhisshirtsleeves,shiveringwithcold,havingsoldhiscoattobuythatlittlebookforhisson!

CHAPTER10

TheMarionettes recognize their brotherPinocchio, andgreet himwith loudcheers; but theDirector, FireEater, happens along and poor Pinocchio almostloseshislife.Quickasaflash,PinocchiodisappearedintotheMarionetteTheater.Andthen

somethinghappenedwhichalmostcausedariot.Thecurtainwasupandtheperformancehadstarted.HarlequinandPulcinellawererecitingon thestageand,asusual, theywere

threateningeachotherwithsticksandblows.The theaterwas fullofpeople, enjoying the spectacleand laughing till they

criedattheanticsofthetwoMarionettes.The play continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly, without any

warning,Harlequinstoppedtalking.Turningtowardtheaudience,hepointedtotherearoftheorchestra,yellingwildlyatthesametime:“Look,look!AmIasleeporawake?OrdoIreallyseePinocchiothere?”“Yes,yes!ItisPinocchio!”screamedPulcinella.“Itis!Itis!”shriekedSignoraRosaura,peekinginfromthesideofthestage.“ItisPinocchio!ItisPinocchio!”yelledalltheMarionettes,pouringoutofthe

wings.“ItisPinocchio.ItisourbrotherPinocchio!HurrahforPinocchio!”“Pinocchio,comeuptome!”shoutedHarlequin.“Cometothearmsofyour

woodenbrothers!”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 theorchestraleader’shead.Withathird,helandedonthestage.Itisimpossibletodescribetheshrieksofjoy,thewarmembraces,theknocks,

and the friendlygreetingswithwhich that strangecompanyofdramaticactorsandactressesreceivedPinocchio.It was a heart-rending spectacle, but the audience, seeing that the play had

stopped,becameangryandbegantoyell:“Theplay,theplay,wewanttheplay!”Theyellingwasofnouse,fortheMarionettes,insteadofgoingonwiththeir

act, made twice as much racket as before, and, lifting up Pinocchio on their

shoulders,carriedhimaroundthestageintriumph.Atthatverymoment,theDirectorcameoutofhisroom.Hehadsuchafearful

appearance that one look at himwould fill youwith horror.His beardwas asblackaspitch, and so long that it reached fromhis chindown tohis feet.Hismouthwas aswide as an oven, his teeth like yellow fangs, and his eyes, twoglowingredcoals.Inhishuge,hairyhands,alongwhip,madeofgreensnakesandblackcats’tailstwistedtogether,swishedthroughtheairinadangerousway.Attheunexpectedapparition,noonedaredeventobreathe.Onecouldalmost

hearaflygoby.ThosepoorMarionettes,oneandall,trembledlikeleavesinastorm.“Why have you brought such excitement intomy theater;” the huge fellow

askedPinocchiowiththevoiceofanogresufferingwithacold.“Believeme,yourHonor,thefaultwasnotmine.”“Enough!Bequiet!I’lltakecareofyoulater.”Assoonastheplaywasover, theDirectorwenttothekitchen,whereafine

big lamb was slowly turning on the spit. More wood was needed to finishcookingit.HecalledHarlequinandPulcinellaandsaidtothem:“BringthatMarionettetome!Helooksasifheweremadeofwell-seasoned

wood.He’llmakeafinefireforthisspit.”HarlequinandPulcinellahesitatedabit.Then,frightenedbyalookfromtheir

master, they left the kitchen to obey him. A fewminutes later they returned,carrying poor Pinocchio, who was wriggling and squirming like an eel andcryingpitifully:“Father,saveme!Idon’twanttodie!Idon’twanttodie!”

CHAPTER11

FireEater sneezes and forgivesPinocchio,who saves his friend,Harlequin,fromdeath.Inthetheater,greatexcitementreigned.FireEater(thiswasreallyhisname)wasveryugly,buthewasfarfrombeing

asbadashelooked.Proofofthisisthat,whenhesawthepoorMarionettebeingbroughtintohim,strugglingwithfearandcrying,“Idon’twanttodie!Idon’twanttodie!”hefeltsorryforhimandbeganfirsttowaverandthentoweaken.Finally,hecouldcontrolhimselfnolongerandgavealoudsneeze.At that sneeze, Harlequin, who until then had been as sad as a weeping

willow,smiledhappilyandleaningtowardtheMarionette,whisperedtohim:“Goodnews,brothermine!FireEaterhassneezedand this isasign thathe

feelssorryforyou.Youaresaved!”Forbeitknown,that,whileotherpeople,whensadandsorrowful,weepand

wipetheireyes,FireEater,ontheotherhand,hadthestrangehabitofsneezingeachtimehefeltunhappy.Thewaywasjustasgoodasanyother toshowthekindnessofhisheart.Aftersneezing,FireEater,uglyasever,criedtoPinocchio:“Stopcrying!Yourwailsgivemeafunnyfeelingdownhere inmystomach

and—E—tchee!—E—tchee!”Twoloudsneezesfinishedhisspeech.“Godblessyou!”saidPinocchio.“Thanks!Areyourfatherandmotherstillliving?”demandedFireEater.“Myfather,yes.MymotherIhaveneverknown.”“YourpoorfatherwouldsufferterriblyifIweretouseyouasfirewood.Poor

old man! I feel sorry for him! E—tchee! E—tchee! E—tchee!” Three moresneezessounded,louderthanever.“Godblessyou!”saidPinocchio.“Thanks!However, I ought to be sorry formyself, too, just now.My good

dinner is spoiled. I havenomorewood for the fire, and the lamb is onlyhalfcooked.Nevermind!InyourplaceI’llburnsomeotherMarionette.Heythere!Officers!”At the call, twowoodenofficers appeared, long and thin as a yard of rope,

withqueerhatsontheirheadsandswordsintheirhands.FireEateryelledattheminahoarsevoice:“TakeHarlequin, tie him, and throw him on the fire. Iwantmy lambwell

done!”Think how poorHarlequin felt!Hewas so scared that his legs doubled up

underhimandhefelltothefloor.Pinocchio,at thatheartbreakingsight, threwhimselfat thefeetofFireEater

and,weepingbitterly,askedinapitifulvoicewhichcouldscarcelybeheard:“Havepity,Ibegofyou,signore!”“Therearenosignorihere!”“Havepity,kindsir!”“Therearenosirshere!”“Havepity,yourExcellency!”On hearing himself addressed as your Excellency, the Director of the

MarionetteTheatersatupverystraightinhischair,strokedhislongbeard,andbecoming suddenly kind and compassionate, smiled proudly as he said toPinocchio:“Well,whatdoyouwantfrommenow,Marionette?”“Ibegformercyformypoorfriend,Harlequin,whohasneverdonetheleast

harminhislife.”“Thereisnomercyhere,Pinocchio.Ihavesparedyou.Harlequinmustburn

inyourplace.Iamhungryandmydinnermustbecooked.”“Inthatcase,”saidPinocchioproudly,ashestoodupandflungawayhiscap

ofdough,“inthatcase,mydutyisclear.Come,officers!Tiemeupandthrowmeon thoseflames.No, it isnot fair forpoorHarlequin, thebest friend that Ihaveintheworld,todieinmyplace!”Thesebravewords, said in apiercingvoice,made all theotherMarionettes

cry.Eventheofficers,whoweremadeofwoodalso,criedliketwobabies.FireEateratfirstremainedhardandcoldasapieceofice;butthen,littleby

little,hesoftenedandbegantosneeze.Andafterfourorfivesneezes,heopenedwidehisarmsandsaidtoPinocchio:“Youareabraveboy!Cometomyarmsandkissme!”Pinocchiorantohimandscurryinglikeasquirrelupthelongblackbeard,he

gaveFireEateralovingkissonthetipofhisnose.“Haspardonbeengrantedtome?”askedpoorHarlequinwithavoicethatwas

hardlyabreath.“Pardonisyours!”answeredFireEater;andsighingandwagginghishead,he

added:“Well,tonightIshallhavetoeatmylambonlyhalfcooked,butbewarethenexttime,Marionettes.”Atthenewsthatpardonhadbeengiven,theMarionettesrantothestageand,

turningonallthelights,theydancedandsangtilldawn.

CHAPTER12

FireEater givesPinocchio fivegoldpieces for his father,Geppetto; but theMarionettemeetsaFoxandaCatandfollowsthem.ThenextdayFireEatercalledPinocchioasideandaskedhim:“Whatisyourfather’sname?”“Geppetto.”“Andwhatishistrade?”“He’sawoodcarver.”“Doesheearnmuch?”“Heearnssomuchthatheneverhasapennyinhispockets.Justthinkthat,in

order to buy me an A-B-C book for school, he had to sell the only coat heowned,acoatsofullofdarnsandpatchesthatitwasapity.”“Poorfellow!Ifeelsorryforhim.Here,takethesefivegoldpieces.Go,give

themtohimwithmykindestregards.”Pinocchio, as may easily be imagined, thanked him a thousand times. He

kissedeachMarionette in turn,even theofficers,and,besidehimselfwith joy,setoutonhishomewardjourney.He had gone barely half amilewhen hemet a lame Fox and a blind Cat,

walkingtogetherliketwogoodfriends.ThelameFoxleanedontheCat,andtheblindCatlettheFoxleadhimalong.“Goodmorning,Pinocchio,”saidtheFox,greetinghimcourteously.“Howdoyouknowmyname?”askedtheMarionette.“Iknowyourfatherwell.”“Wherehaveyouseenhim?”“Isawhimyesterdaystandingatthedoorofhishouse.”“Andwhatwashedoing?”“Hewasinhisshirtsleevestremblingwithcold.”“PoorFather!But,aftertoday,Godwilling,hewillsuffernolonger.”“Why?”“BecauseIhavebecomearichman.”

“You,arichman?”saidtheFox,andhebegantolaughoutloud.TheCatwaslaughingalso,buttriedtohideitbystrokinghislongwhiskers.“There is nothing to laugh at,” criedPinocchio angrily. “I amvery sorry to

makeyourmouthwater,butthese,asyouknow,arefivenewgoldpieces.”AndhepulledoutthegoldpieceswhichFireEaterhadgivenhim.Atthecheerfultinkleofthegold,theFoxunconsciouslyheldouthispawthat

wassupposedtobelame,andtheCatopenedwidehistwoeyestilltheylookedlikelivecoals,butheclosedthemagainsoquicklythatPinocchiodidnotnotice.“Andmay I ask,” inquired theFox, “whatyouaregoing todowithall that

money?”“Firstofall,”answeredtheMarionette,“Iwanttobuyafinenewcoatformy

father,acoatofgoldandsilverwithdiamondbuttons;afterthat,I’llbuyanA-B-Cbookformyself.”“Foryourself?”“Formyself.Iwanttogotoschoolandstudyhard.”“Lookatme,”saidtheFox.“Forthesillyreasonofwantingtostudy,Ihave

lostapaw.”“Lookatme,”saidtheCat.“Forthesamefoolishreason,Ihavelostthesight

ofbotheyes.”Atthatmoment,aBlackbird,perchedonthefencealongtheroad,calledout

sharpandclear:“Pinocchio,donotlistentobadadvice.Ifyoudo,you’llbesorry!”Poor little Blackbird! If he had only kept his words to himself! In the

twinklingofaneyelid,theCatleapedonhim,andatehim,feathersandall.After eating the bird, he cleaned hiswhiskers, closed his eyes, and became

blindoncemore.“PoorBlackbird!”saidPinocchiototheCat.“Whydidyoukillhim?”“Ikilledhimtoteachhimalesson.Hetalkstoomuch.Nexttimehewillkeep

hiswordstohimself.”Bythistimethethreecompanionshadwalkedalongdistance.Suddenly,the

Foxstoppedinhistracksand,turningtotheMarionette,saidtohim:“Doyouwanttodoubleyourgoldpieces?”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Do youwant one hundred, a thousand, two thousand gold pieces for your

miserablefive?”

“Yes,buthow?”“Thewayisveryeasy.Insteadofreturninghome,comewithus.”“Andwherewillyoutakeme?”“TotheCityofSimpleSimons.”Pinocchiothoughtawhileandthensaidfirmly:“No,Idon’twanttogo.Homeisnear,andI’mgoingwhereFatheriswaiting

forme.HowunhappyhemustbethatIhavenotyetreturned!Ihavebeenabadson, and the Talking Cricket was right when he said that a disobedient boycannotbehappyinthisworld.Ihavelearnedthisatmyownexpense.Evenlastnight in the theater,whenFireEater. . .Brrrr!!!!! . . .The shivers runup anddownmybackatthemerethoughtofit.”“Well, then,” said the Fox, “if you really want to go home, go ahead, but

you’llbesorry.”“You’llbesorry,”repeatedtheCat.“Thinkwell,Pinocchio,youareturningyourbackonDameFortune.”“OnDameFortune,”repeatedtheCat.“Tomorrowyourfivegoldpieceswillbetwothousand!”“Twothousand!”repeatedtheCat.“Buthowcantheypossiblybecomesomany?”askedPinocchiowonderingly.“I’ll explain,” said the Fox. “Youmust know that, just outside the City of

SimpleSimons,thereisablessedfieldcalledtheFieldofWonders.Inthisfieldyoudigaholeandintheholeyouburyagoldpiece.Aftercoveringuptheholewithearthyouwateritwell,sprinkleabitofsaltonit,andgotobed.Duringthenight, the gold piece sprouts, grows, blossoms, and next morning you find abeautifultree,thatisloadedwithgoldpieces.”“SothatifIweretoburymyfivegoldpieces,”criedPinocchiowithgrowing

wonder,“nextmorningIshouldfind—howmany?”“Itisverysimpletofigureout,”answeredtheFox.“Why,youcanfigureiton

your fingers! Granted that each piece gives you five hundred, multiply fivehundredbyfive.Nextmorningyouwillfindtwenty-fivehundrednew,sparklinggoldpieces.”“Fine!Fine!”criedPinocchio,dancingaboutwithjoy.“AndassoonasIhave

them,IshallkeeptwothousandformyselfandtheotherfivehundredI’llgivetoyoutwo.”“Agiftforus?”criedtheFox,pretendingtobeinsulted.“Why,ofcoursenot!”

“Ofcoursenot!”repeatedtheCat.“We do not work for gain,” answered the Fox. “We work only to enrich

others.”“Toenrichothers!”repeatedtheCat.“Whatgoodpeople,”thoughtPinocchiotohimself.Andforgettinghisfather,

thenewcoat, theA-B-Cbook,andallhisgoodresolutions,hesaid to theFoxandtotheCat:“Letusgo.Iamwithyou.”

CHAPTER13

TheInnoftheRedLobster

CatandFoxandMarionettewalkedandwalkedandwalked.Atlast, towardevening,deadtired,theycametotheInnoftheRedLobster.“Letusstophereawhile,”saidtheFox,“toeatabiteandrestforafewhours.

Atmidnightwe’llstartoutagain,foratdawntomorrowwemustbeattheFieldofWonders.”TheywentintotheInnandallthreesatdownatthesametable.However,not

oneofthemwasveryhungry.ThepoorCat feltveryweak,andhewasable toeatonly thirty-fivemullets

withtomatosauceandfourportionsoftripewithcheese.Moreover,ashewassoinneedofstrength,hehadtohavefourmorehelpingsofbutterandcheese.TheFox,afteragreatdealofcoaxing,triedhisbesttoeatalittle.Thedoctor

hadputhimonadiet,andhehadtobesatisfiedwithasmallharedressedwithadozen young and tender spring chickens. After the hare, he ordered somepartridges,a fewpheasants,acoupleof rabbits,andadozenfrogsand lizards.Thatwasall.Hefeltill,hesaid,andcouldnoteatanotherbite.Pinocchioateleastofall.Heaskedforabiteofbreadandafewnutsandthen

hardly touchedthem.Thepoorfellow,withhismindon theFieldofWonders,wassufferingfromagold-pieceindigestion.Supperover,theFoxsaidtotheInnkeeper:“Giveustwogoodrooms,oneforMr.Pinocchioandtheotherformeandmy

friend. Before starting out, we’ll take a little nap. Remember to call us atmidnightsharp,forwemustcontinueonourjourney.”“Yes,sir,”answeredtheInnkeeper,winkinginaknowingwayattheFoxand

theCat,asiftosay,“Iunderstand.”AssoonasPinocchiowasinbed,hefellfastasleepandbegantodream.He

dreamedhewasinthemiddleofafield.Thefieldwasfullofvinesheavywithgrapes.Thegrapeswerenootherthangoldcoinswhichtinkledmerrilyastheyswayedinthewind.Theyseemedtosay,“Lethimwhowantsustakeus!”Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take a handful of them, hewas

awakenedbythreeloudknocksatthedoor.ItwastheInnkeeperwhohadcome

totellhimthatmidnighthadstruck.“Aremyfriendsready?”theMarionetteaskedhim.“Indeed,yes!Theywenttwohoursago.”“Whyinsuchahurry?”“UnfortunatelytheCatreceivedatelegramwhichsaidthathisfirst-bornwas

sufferingfromchilblainsandwasonthepointofdeath.Hecouldnotevenwaittosaygood-bytoyou.”“Didtheypayforthesupper?”“Howcouldtheydosuchathing?Beingpeopleofgreatrefinement,theydid

notwant tooffendyou sodeeply asnot to allowyou thehonorofpaying thebill.”“Too bad! That offense would have been more than pleasing to me,” said

Pinocchio,scratchinghishead.“Wheredidmygoodfriendssaytheywouldwaitforme?”headded.“AttheFieldofWonders,atsunrisetomorrowmorning.”Pinocchio paid a gold piece for the three suppers and started on his way

towardthefieldthatwastomakehimarichman.Hewalkedon,notknowingwherehewasgoing,foritwasdark,sodarkthat

notathingwasvisible.Roundabouthim,notaleafstirred.Afewbatsskimmedhisnosenowandagainandscaredhimhalftodeath.Onceortwiceheshouted,“Whogoesthere?”andthefar-awayhillsechoedbacktohim,“Whogoesthere?Whogoesthere?Whogoes...?”Ashewalked,Pinocchionoticeda tiny insectglimmeringon the trunkof a

tree,asmallbeingthatglowedwithapale,softlight.“Whoareyou?”heasked.“I am theghost of theTalkingCricket,” answered the little being in a faint

voicethatsoundedasifitcamefromafar-awayworld.“Whatdoyouwant?”askedtheMarionette.“Iwant togiveyoua fewwordsofgoodadvice.Returnhomeandgive the

fourgoldpiecesyouhavelefttoyourpooroldfatherwhoisweepingbecausehehasnotseenyouformanyaday.”“Tomorrow my father will be a rich man, for these four gold pieces will

becometwothousand.”“Don’t listentothosewhopromiseyouwealthovernight,myboy.Asarule

theyareeitherfoolsorswindlers!Listentomeandgohome.”

“ButIwanttogoon!”“Thehourislate!”“Iwanttogoon.”“Thenightisverydark.”“Iwanttogoon.”“Theroadisdangerous.”“Iwanttogoon.”“Remember that boys who insist on having their own way, sooner or later

cometogrief.”“Thesamenonsense.Good-by,Cricket.”“Goodnight,Pinocchio,andmayHeavenpreserveyoufromtheAssassins.”There was silence for a minute and the light of the Talking Cricket

disappearedsuddenly,justasifsomeonehadsnuffeditout.Onceagaintheroadwasplungedindarkness.

CHAPTER14

Pinocchio,nothavinglistenedtothegoodadviceoftheTalkingCricket,fallsintothehandsoftheAssassins.“Dear,oh,dear!WhenIcometothinkofit,”saidtheMarionettetohimself,

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 wewere to allow it, everyonewould try to be father andmother to us; everyone,eventheTalkingCricket.Takeme,forexample.JustbecauseIwouldnotlistentothatbothersomeCricket,whoknowshowmanymisfortunesmaybeawaitingme!Assassinsindeed!AtleastIhaveneverbelievedinthem,noreverwill.Tospeaksensibly, I thinkassassinshavebeen inventedby fathersandmothers tofrighten childrenwhowant to run away at night.And then, even if Iwere tomeet them on the road,whatmatter? I’ll just run up to them, and say, ‘Well,signori,whatdoyouwant?Remember thatyoucan’tfoolwithme!Runalongandmindyourbusiness.’Atsuchaspeech,Icanalmostseethosepoorfellowsrunninglikethewind.Butincasetheydon’trunaway,Icanalwaysrunmyself...”Pinocchiowasnotgiventimetoargueanylonger,forhethoughthehearda

slightrustleamongtheleavesbehindhim.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 leapedtowardhimassoftlyasiftheywereghosts.“Heretheycome!”Pinocchiosaidtohimself,and,notknowingwheretohide

thegoldpieces,hestuckallfourofthemunderhistongue.He tried to runaway,buthardlyhadhe takena step,whenhe felthis arms

graspedandheard twohorrible,deepvoicessay tohim:“Yourmoneyoryourlife!”Onaccountofthegoldpiecesinhismouth,Pinocchiocouldnotsayaword,

sohetriedwithheadandhandsandbodytoshow,asbesthecould,thathewasonlyapoorMarionettewithoutapennyinhispocket.“Come,come,lessnonsense,andoutwithyourmoney!”criedthetwothieves

inthreateningvoices.Oncemore,Pinocchio’sheadandhandssaid,“Ihaven’tapenny.”

“Out with that money or you’re a dead man,” said the taller of the twoAssassins.“Deadman,”repeatedtheother.“Andafterhavingkilledyou,wewillkillyourfatheralso.”“Yourfatheralso!”“No, no, no, not my Father!” cried Pinocchio, wild with terror; but as he

screamed,thegoldpiecestinkledtogetherinhismouth.“Ah,yourascal!Sothat’sthegame!Youhavethemoneyhiddenunderyour

tongue.Outwithit!”ButPinocchiowasasstubbornasever.“Areyoudeaf?Wait,youngman,we’llgetitfromyouinatwinkling!”OneofthemgrabbedtheMarionettebythenoseandtheotherbythechin,and

theypulledhimunmercifully fromside to side inorder tomakehimopenhismouth.All was of no use. TheMarionette’s lips might have been nailed together.

Theywouldnotopen.Indesperationthesmallerof the twoAssassinspulledouta longknifefrom

hispocket,andtriedtopryPinocchio’smouthopenwithit.Quickasaflash,theMarionettesankhisteethdeepintotheAssassin’shand,

bititoffandspatitout.Fancyhissurprisewhenhesawthatitwasnotahand,butacat’spaw.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 thefields.Hispursuerswereafterhimatonce,liketwodogschasingahare.After runningsevenmilesorso,Pinocchiowaswell-nighexhausted.Seeing

himselflost,heclimbedupagiantpinetreeandsattheretoseewhathecouldsee.TheAssassinstriedtoclimbalso,buttheyslippedandfell.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 atwinkling the tree began to sputter andburn like a candle blownby thewind.Pinocchiosawtheflamesclimbhigherandhigher.Notwishingtoendhisdaysasa roastedMarionette,he jumpedquickly to thegroundandoffhewent, theAssassinsclosetohim,asbefore.Dawnwasbreakingwhen,withoutanywarningwhatsoever,Pinocchiofound

hispathbarredbyadeeppoolfullofwaterthecolorofmuddycoffee.

Whatwas there todo?Witha“One, two, three!”he jumpedclearacross it.The Assassins jumped also, but not having measured their distance well—splash!!!—theyfell right into themiddleof thepool.Pinocchiowhoheard thesplashandfeltit,too,criedout,laughing,butneverstoppinginhisrace:“Apleasantbathtoyou,signori!”Hethoughttheymustsurelybedrownedandturnedhisheadtosee.Butthere

werethetwosomberfiguresstillfollowinghim,thoughtheirblacksacksweredrenchedanddrippingwithwater.

CHAPTER15

TheAssassinschasePinocchio, catchhim,andhanghim to thebranchofagiantoaktree.Ashe ran, theMarionette feltmoreandmorecertain thathewouldhave to

givehimselfupintothehandsofhispursuers.Suddenlyhesawalittlecottagegleamingwhiteasthesnowamongthetreesoftheforest.“If Ihaveenoughbreath leftwithwhich to reach that littlehouse, Imaybe

saved,”hesaidtohimself.Not waiting another moment, he darted swiftly through the woods, the

Assassinsstillafterhim.Afterahardraceofalmostanhour,tiredandoutofbreath,Pinocchiofinally

reachedthedoorofthecottageandknocked.Nooneanswered.Heknockedagain,harderthanbefore,forbehindhimheheardthestepsand

thelaboredbreathingofhispersecutors.Thesamesilencefollowed.As knockingwas of no use, Pinocchio, in despair, began to kick and bang

againstthedoor,asifhewantedtobreakit.Atthenoise,awindowopenedandalovelymaidenlookedout.Shehadazurehairandafacewhiteaswax.Hereyeswereclosedandherhandscrossedonherbreast.Withavoice soweak that ithardlycouldbeheard,shewhispered:“Noonelivesinthishouse.Everyoneisdead.”“Won’tyou,atleast,openthedoorforme?”criedPinocchioinabeseeching

voice.“Ialsoamdead.”“Dead?Whatareyoudoingatthewindow,then?”“Iamwaitingforthecoffintotakemeaway.”Afterthesewords,thelittlegirldisappearedandthewindowclosedwithouta

sound.“Oh,LovelyMaidenwithAzureHair,”criedPinocchio,“open,Ibegofyou.

TakepityonapoorboywhoisbeingchasedbytwoAssass—”Hedidnot finish, for twopowerful handsgraspedhimby theneck and the

sametwohorriblevoicesgrowledthreateningly:“Nowwehaveyou!”TheMarionette, seeingdeathdancingbeforehim, trembled sohard that the

jointsofhislegsrattledandthecoinstinkledunderhistongue.“Well,”theAssassinsasked,“willyouopenyourmouthnowornot?Ah!You

donotanswer?Verywell,thistimeyoushallopenit.”Taking out two long, sharp knives, they struck two heavy blows on the

Marionette’sback.Happilyforhim,Pinocchiowasmadeofveryhardwoodandtheknivesbroke

into a thousandpieces.TheAssassins lookedat eachother indismay,holdingthehandlesoftheknivesintheirhands.“Iunderstand,”saidoneofthemtotheother,“thereisnothinglefttodonow

buttohanghim.”“Tohanghim,”repeatedtheother.They tied Pinocchio’s hands behind his shoulders and slipped the noose

aroundhisneck.Throwingtheropeoverthehighlimbofagiantoaktree,theypulledtillthepoorMarionettehungfarupinspace.Satisfiedwiththeirwork,theysatonthegrasswaitingforPinocchiotogive

his last gasp. But after three hours theMarionette’s eyes were still open, hismouthstillshutandhislegskickedharderthanever.Tired of waiting, the Assassins called to him mockingly: “Good-by till

tomorrow.Whenwereturninthemorning,wehopeyou’llbepoliteenoughtolet us find you dead and gone and with your mouth wide open.”With thesewordstheywent.Afewminuteswentbyandthenawildwindstarted toblow.Asitshrieked

andmoaned,thepoorlittlesuffererwasblowntoandfrolikethehammerofabell.Therockingmadehimseasickandthenoose,becomingtighterandtighter,chokedhim.Littlebylittleafilmcoveredhiseyes.Deathwascreepingnearerandnearer,andtheMarionettestillhopedforsome

goodsoultocometohisrescue,butnooneappeared.Ashewasabouttodie,hethought of his poor old father, and hardly conscious of what he was saying,murmuredtohimself:“Oh,Father,dearFather!Ifyouwereonlyhere!”Thesewerehislastwords.Heclosedhiseyes,openedhismouth,stretchedout

hislegs,andhungthere,asifheweredead.

CHAPTER16

TheLovelyMaidenwithAzureHairsendsforthepoorMarionette,putshimtobed,andcallsthreeDoctorstotellherifPinocchioisdeadoralive.If thepoorMarionettehaddangled theremuch longer, all hopewouldhave

been lost. Luckily for him, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair once againlookedoutofherwindow.Filledwithpityat thesightof thepoor littlefellowbeing knocked helplessly about by the wind, she clapped her hands sharplytogetherthreetimes.At the signal, a loud whirr of wings in quick flight was heard and a large

Falconcameandsettleditselfonthewindowledge.“Whatdoyoucommand,mycharmingFairy?”askedtheFalcon,bendinghis

beakindeepreverence(foritmustbeknownthat,afterall,theLovelyMaidenwithAzureHairwasnoneotherthanaverykindFairywhohadlived,formorethanathousandyears,inthevicinityoftheforest).“DoyouseethatMarionettehangingfromthelimbofthatgiantoaktree?”“Iseehim.”“Verywell. Fly immediately to him.With your strong beak, break the knot

whichholdshimtied,takehimdown,andlayhimsoftlyonthegrassatthefootoftheoak.”TheFalcon flewawayandafter twominutes returned, saying, “Ihavedone

whatyouhavecommanded.”“Howdidyoufindhim?Aliveordead?”“Atfirstglance,Ithoughthewasdead.ButIfoundIwaswrong,forassoon

asIloosenedtheknotaroundhisneck,hegavealongsighandmumbledwithafaintvoice,‘NowIfeelbetter!’”TheFairyclappedherhandstwice.AmagnificentPoodleappeared,walking

on his hind legs just like a man. He was dressed in court livery. A tricorntrimmedwithgoldlacewassetatarakishangleoverawigofwhitecurlsthatdroppeddowntohiswaist.Heworea jauntycoatofchocolate-coloredvelvet,withdiamondbuttons,andwithtwohugepocketswhichwerealwaysfilledwithbones, dropped there at dinner by his loving mistress. Breeches of crimsonvelvet, silk stockings, and low, silver-buckled slippers completed his costume.His tailwas encased in a blue silk covering,whichwas to protect it from the

rain.“Come,Medoro,”saidtheFairytohim.“Getmybestcoachreadyandsetout

toward the forest. On reaching the oak tree, you will find a poor, half-deadMarionette stretched out on the grass. Lift him up tenderly, place him on thesilkencushionsofthecoach,andbringhimheretome.”ThePoodle, toshowthatheunderstood,waggedhissilk-coveredtail twoor

threetimesandsetoffataquickpace.Ina fewminutes, a lovely littlecoach,madeofglass,with liningas soft as

whippedcreamandchocolatepudding,andstuffedwithcanaryfeathers,pulledout of the stable. It was drawn by one hundred pairs of white mice, and thePoodlesatonthecoachman’sseatandsnappedhiswhipgaylyintheair,asifhewerearealcoachmaninahurrytogettohisdestination.Inaquarterofanhourthecoachwasback.TheFairy,whowaswaitingatthe

door of the house, lifted the poor littleMarionette in her arms, took him to adainty roomwithmother-of-pearlwalls, puthim tobed, and sent immediatelyforthemostfamousdoctorsoftheneighborhoodtocometoher.Oneafteranotherthedoctorscame,aCrow,andOwl,andaTalkingCricket.“I should like to know, signori,” said theFairy, turning to the three doctors

gatheredaboutPinocchio’sbed,“IshouldliketoknowifthispoorMarionetteisdeadoralive.”At this invitation, theCrowsteppedoutandfeltPinocchio’spulse,hisnose,

hislittletoe.Thenhesolemnlypronouncedthefollowingwords:“TomymindthisMarionetteisdeadandgone;butif,byanyevilchance,he

werenot,thenthatwouldbeasuresignthatheisstillalive!”“Iamsorry,”saidtheOwl,“tohavetocontradicttheCrow,myfamousfriend

andcolleague.TomymindthisMarionetteisalive;butif,byanyevilchance,hewerenot,thenthatwouldbeasuresignthatheiswhollydead!”“Anddoyouholdanyopinion?”theFairyaskedtheTalkingCricket.“I say that awisedoctor,whenhedoesnot knowwhat he is talking about,

shouldknowenoughtokeephismouthshut.However,thatMarionetteisnotastrangertome.Ihaveknownhimalongtime!”Pinocchio,whountilthenhadbeenveryquiet,shudderedsohardthatthebed

shook.“ThatMarionette,” continued the Talking Cricket, “is a rascal of the worst

kind.”Pinocchioopenedhiseyesandclosedthemagain.

“Heisrude,lazy,arunaway.”Pinocchiohidhisfaceunderthesheets.“ThatMarionetteisadisobedientsonwhoisbreakinghisfather’sheart!”Longshudderingsobswereheard,cries,anddeepsighs.Thinkhowsurprised

everyonewaswhen,onraisingthesheets,theydiscoveredPinocchiohalfmeltedintears!“When the dead weep, they are beginning to recover,” said the Crow

solemnly.“Iamsorrytocontradictmyfamousfriendandcolleague,”saidtheOwl,“but

asfarasI’mconcerned,Ithinkthatwhenthedeadweep,itmeanstheydonotwanttodie.”

CHAPTER17

Pinocchio eats sugar, but refuses to take medicine. When the undertakerscomeforhim,hedrinksthemedicineandfeelsbetter.Afterwardshetellsalieand,inpunishment,hisnosegrowslongerandlonger.Assoonasthethreedoctorshadlefttheroom,theFairywenttoPinocchio’s

bedand,touchinghimontheforehead,noticedthathewasburningwithfever.She tookaglassofwater,putawhitepowder into it, and,handing it to the

Marionette,saidlovinglytohim:“Drinkthis,andinafewdaysyou’llbeupandwell.”Pinocchiolookedattheglass,madeawryface,andaskedinawhiningvoice:

“Isitsweetorbitter?”“Itisbitter,butitisgoodforyou.”“Ifitisbitter,Idon’twantit.”“Drinkit!”“Idon’tlikeanythingbitter.”“DrinkitandI’llgiveyoualumpofsugartotakethebitter tastefromyour

mouth.”“Where’sthesugar?”“Hereitis,”saidtheFairy,takingalumpfromagoldensugarbowl.“Iwantthesugarfirst,thenI’lldrinkthebitterwater.”“Doyoupromise?”“Yes.”TheFairygavehimthesugarandPinocchio,afterchewingandswallowingit

inatwinkling,said,smackinghislips:“Ifonlysugarweremedicine!Ishouldtakeiteveryday.”“Nowkeepyourpromiseanddrinkthesefewdropsofwater.They’llbegood

foryou.”Pinocchiotooktheglassinbothhandsandstuckhisnoseintoit.Helifteditto

hismouthandoncemorestuckhisnoseintoit.“Itistoobitter,muchtoobitter!Ican’tdrinkit.”“Howdoyouknow,whenyouhaven’teventastedit?”

“Icanimagineit.Ismellit.Iwantanotherlumpofsugar,thenI’lldrinkit.”TheFairy,withall thepatienceofagoodmother,gavehimmoresugarand

againhandedhimtheglass.“Ican’tdrinkitlikethat,”theMarionettesaid,makingmorewryfaces.“Why?”“Becausethatfeatherpillowonmyfeetbothersme.”TheFairytookawaythepillow.“It’snouse.Ican’tdrinkitevennow.”“What’sthematternow?”“Idon’tlikethewaythatdoorlooks.It’shalfopen.”TheFairyclosedthedoor.“Iwon’t drink it,” cried Pinocchio, bursting out crying. “Iwon’t drink this

awfulwater.Iwon’t.Iwon’t!No,no,no,no!”“Myboy,you’llbesorry.”“Idon’tcare.”“Youareverysick.”“Idon’tcare.”“Inafewhoursthefeverwilltakeyoufarawaytoanotherworld.”“Idon’tcare.”“Aren’tyouafraidofdeath?”“Notabit.I’dratherdiethandrinkthatawfulmedicine.”Atthatmoment,thedooroftheroomflewopenandincamefourRabbitsas

blackasink,carryingasmallblackcoffinontheirshoulders.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”askedPinocchio.“Wehavecomeforyou,”saidthelargestRabbit.“Forme?ButI’mnotdeadyet!”“No,notdeadyet;butyouwillbeinafewmomentssinceyouhaverefusedto

takethemedicinewhichwouldhavemadeyouwell.”“Oh,Fairy,myFairy,” theMarionettecriedout,“giveme thatglass!Quick,

please!Idon’twanttodie!No,no,notyet—notyet!”Andholdingtheglasswithhistwohands,heswallowedthemedicineatone

gulp.“Well,”saidthefourRabbits,“thistimewehavemadethetripfornothing.”

Andturningontheirheels,theymarchedsolemnlyoutoftheroom,carryingtheirlittleblackcoffinandmutteringandgrumblingbetweentheirteeth.Inatwinkling,Pinocchiofeltfine.Withoneleaphewasoutofbedandinto

hisclothes.TheFairy,seeinghimrunandjumparoundtheroomgayasabirdonwing,

saidtohim:“Mymedicinewasgoodforyou,afterall,wasn’tit?”“Goodindeed!Ithasgivenmenewlife.”“Why,then,didIhavetobegyousohardtomakeyoudrinkit?”“I’maboy,yousee,andallboyshatemedicinemorethantheydosickness.”“Whatashame!Boysought toknow,afterall, thatmedicine, taken in time,

cansavethemfrommuchpainandevenfromdeath.”“Next time I won’t have to be begged so hard. I’ll remember those black

RabbitswiththeblackcoffinontheirshouldersandI’lltaketheglassandpouf!—downitwillgo!”“Comeherenowandtellmehowitcameaboutthatyoufoundyourselfinthe

handsoftheAssassins.”“IthappenedthatFireEatergavemefivegoldpiecestogivetomyFather,but

ontheway,ImetaFoxandaCat,whoaskedme,‘Doyouwantthefivepiecestobecometwothousand?’AndIsaid,‘Yes.’Andtheysaid,‘ComewithustotheFieldofWonders.’AndIsaid,‘Let’sgo.’Thentheysaid,‘LetusstopattheInnoftheRedLobsterfordinnerandaftermidnightwe’llsetoutagain.’Weateandwenttosleep.WhenIawoketheyweregoneandIstartedoutinthedarknessallalone.OntheroadImettwoAssassinsdressedinblackcoalsacks,whosaidtome,‘Yourmoneyoryourlife!’andIsaid,‘Ihaven’tanymoney’;for,yousee,Ihadput themoneyundermy tongue.Oneof them tried toputhishand inmymouthandIbititoffandspatitout;butitwasn’tahand,itwasacat’spaw.AndtheyranaftermeandIranandran,tillatlasttheycaughtmeandtiedmyneckwitharopeandhangedmetoatree,saying,‘Tomorrowwe’llcomebackforyouandyou’llbedeadandyourmouthwillbeopen,and thenwe’ll take thegoldpiecesthatyouhavehiddenunderyourtongue.’”“Wherearethegoldpiecesnow?”theFairyasked.“I lost them,” answeredPinocchio, but he told a lie, for hehad them inhis

pocket.Ashespoke,hisnose,longthoughitwas,becameatleasttwoincheslonger.“Andwheredidyoulosethem?”

“Inthewoodnearby.”Atthissecondlie,hisnosegrewafewmoreinches.“Ifyou lost themin thenear-bywood,”said theFairy,“we’ll lookfor them

andfindthem,foreverythingthatislostthereisalwaysfound.”“Ah, now I remember,” replied the Marionette, becoming more and more

confused.“Ididnotlosethegoldpieces,butIswallowedthemwhenIdrankthemedicine.”Atthisthirdlie,hisnosebecamelongerthanever,solongthathecouldnot

eventurnaround.Ifheturnedtotheright,heknockeditagainstthebedorintothewindowpanes;ifheturnedtotheleft,hestruckthewallsorthedoor;ifheraiseditabit,healmostputtheFairy’seyesout.TheFairysatlookingathimandlaughing.“Whydoyou laugh?” theMarionetteaskedher,worriednowat thesightof

hisgrowingnose.“Iamlaughingatyourlies.”“HowdoyouknowIamlying?”“Lies,myboy,areknowninamoment.Therearetwokindsoflies,lieswith

shortlegsandlieswithlongnoses.Yours,justnow,happentohavelongnoses.”Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide his shame, tried to escape from the

room,buthisnosehadbecomesolongthathecouldnotgetitoutofthedoor.

CHAPTER18

PinocchiofindstheFoxandtheCatagain,andgoeswiththemtosowthegoldpiecesintheFieldofWonders.Cryingasifhisheartwouldbreak,theMarionettemournedforhoursoverthe

lengthofhisnose.Nomatterhowhetried,itwouldnotgothroughthedoor.TheFairyshowednopitytowardhim,asshewastryingtoteachhimagoodlesson,sothathewouldstoptellinglies,theworsthabitanyboymayacquire.Butwhenshesawhim,palewithfrightandwithhiseyeshalfoutofhisheadfromterror,she began to feel sorry for him and clapped her hands together. A thousandwoodpeckersflewinthroughthewindowandsettledthemselvesonPinocchio’snose. They pecked and pecked so hard at that enormous nose that in a fewmoments,itwasthesamesizeasbefore.“How good you are,my Fairy,” said Pinocchio, drying his eyes, “and how

muchIloveyou!”“Iloveyou,too,”answeredtheFairy,“andifyouwishtostaywithme,you

maybemylittlebrotherandI’llbeyourgoodlittlesister.”“Ishouldliketostay—butwhataboutmypoorfather?”“Ihavethoughtofeverything.Yourfatherhasbeensentforandbeforenight

hewillbehere.”“Really?”criedPinocchiojoyfully.“Then,mygoodFairy,ifyouarewilling,I

shouldliketogotomeethim.Icannotwaittokissthatdearoldman,whohassufferedsomuchformysake.”“Surely;goahead,butbe carefulnot to loseyourway.Take thewoodpath

andyou’llsurelymeethim.”Pinocchiosetout,andassoonashefoundhimselfinthewood,heranlikea

hare.Whenhereachedthegiantoaktreehestopped,forhethoughtheheardarustle in the brush. He was right. There stood the Fox and the Cat, the twotravelingcompanionswithwhomhehadeatenattheInnoftheRedLobster.“Here comes our dear Pinocchio!” cried the Fox, hugging and kissing him.

“Howdidyouhappenhere?”“Howdidyouhappenhere?”repeatedtheCat.“Itisalongstory,”saidtheMarionette.“Letmetellittoyou.Theothernight,

whenyouleftmealoneattheInn,ImettheAssassinsontheroad—”

“TheAssassins?Oh,mypoorfriend!Andwhatdidtheywant?”“Theywantedmygoldpieces.”“Rascals!”saidtheFox.“Theworstsortofrascals!”addedtheCat.“ButIbegantorun,”continuedtheMarionette,“andtheyafterme,untilthey

overtookmeandhangedmetothelimbofthatoak.”Pinocchiopointedtothegiantoaknearby.“Couldanythingbeworse?”saidtheFox.“What an awful world to live in! Where shall we find a safe place for

gentlemenlikeourselves?”AstheFoxtalkedthus,PinocchionoticedthattheCatcarriedhisrightpawin

asling.“Whathappenedtoyourpaw?”heasked.TheCat triedtoanswer,buthebecamesoterriblytwistedinhisspeechthat

theFoxhadtohelphimout.“Myfriendistoomodesttoanswer.I’llanswerforhim.Aboutanhourago,

we met an old wolf on the road. He was half starved and begged for help.Havingnothingtogivehim,whatdoyouthinkmyfrienddidoutofthekindnessofhisheart?Withhis teeth,hebitoff thepawofhisfrontfootandthrewitatthatpoorbeast,sothathemighthavesomethingtoeat.”Ashespoke,theFoxwipedoffatear.Pinocchio,almostintearshimself,whisperedintheCat’sear:“Ifallthecatswerelikeyou,howluckythemicewouldbe!”“Andwhatareyoudoinghere?”theFoxaskedtheMarionette.“Iamwaitingformyfather,whowillbehereatanymomentnow.”“Andyourgoldpieces?”“Istillhavetheminmypocket,exceptonewhichIspentattheInnoftheRed

Lobster.”“Tothinkthatthosefourgoldpiecesmightbecometwothousandtomorrow.

Whydon’tyoulistentome?Whydon’tyousowthemintheFieldofWonders?”“Todayitisimpossible.I’llgowithyousomeothertime.”“Anotherdaywillbetoolate,”saidtheFox.“Why?”“Becausethatfieldhasbeenboughtbyaveryrichman,andtodayisthelast

daythatitwillbeopentothepublic.”“HowfaristhisFieldofWonders?”“Onlytwomilesaway.Willyoucomewithus?We’llbethereinhalfanhour.

You can sow the money, and, after a fewminutes, you will gather your twothousandcoinsandreturnhomerich.Areyoucoming?”Pinocchiohesitatedamomentbeforeanswering,forherememberedthegood

Fairy, oldGeppetto, and the advice of theTalkingCricket. Then he ended bydoingwhatallboysdo,whentheyhavenoheartandlittlebrain.HeshruggedhisshouldersandsaidtotheFoxandtheCat:“Letusgo!Iamwithyou.”Andtheywent.Theywalkedandwalkedforahalfadayatleastandatlasttheycametothe

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, yawningfromhunger;withshearedsheep,tremblingwithcold;withcomblesschickens,begging for a grain ofwheat;with large butterflies, unable to use theirwingsbecausetheyhadsoldalltheirlovelycolors;withtaillesspeacocks,ashamedtoshow themselves; and with bedraggled pheasants, scuttling away hurriedly,grievingfortheirbrightfeathersofgoldandsilver,losttothemforever.Throughthiscrowdofpaupersandbeggars,abeautifulcoachpassednowand

again.WithinitsateitheraFox,aHawk,oraVulture.“WhereistheFieldofWonders?”askedPinocchio,growingtiredofwaiting.“Bepatient.Itisonlyafewmorestepsaway.”Theypassed through thecityand, justoutside thewalls, theystepped intoa

lonelyfield,whichlookedmoreorlesslikeanyotherfield.“Hereweare,”said theFoxto theMarionette.“Digaholehereandput the

goldpiecesintoit.”TheMarionetteobeyed.Hedugthehole,putthefourgoldpiecesintoit,and

coveredthemupverycarefully.“Now,”saidtheFox,“gotothatnear-bybrook,bringbackapailfullofwater,andsprinkleitoverthespot.”Pinocchiofollowedthedirectionsclosely,but,ashehadnopail,hepulledoff

his shoe, filled itwithwater, and sprinkled the earthwhich covered the gold.Thenheasked:“Anythingelse?”“Nothing else,” answered the Fox. “Now we can go. Return here within

twentyminutes andyouwill find the vine grown and the branches filledwithgoldpieces.”Pinocchio,besidehimselfwithjoy, thankedtheFoxandtheCatmanytimes

andpromisedthemeachabeautifulgift.“Wedon’twantanyofyourgifts,”answeredthetworogues.“Itisenoughfor

usthatwehavehelpedyoutobecomerichwithlittleornotrouble.Forthisweareashappyaskings.”They said good-by toPinocchio and,wishing himgood luck,went on their

way.

CHAPTER19

Pinocchioisrobbedofhisgoldpiecesand,inpunishment,issentencedtofourmonthsinprison.If theMarionettehadbeen told towaitaday insteadof twentyminutes, the

timecouldnothaveseemedlongertohim.HewalkedimpatientlytoandfroandfinallyturnedhisnosetowardtheFieldofWonders.Andashewalkedwithhurriedsteps,hisheartbeatwithanexcitedtic,tac,tic,

tac,justasifitwereawallclock,andhisbusybrainkeptthinking:“Whatif,insteadofathousand,Ishouldfindtwothousand?Orif,insteadof

twothousand,Ishouldfindfivethousand—oronehundredthousand?I’llbuildmyselfabeautifulpalace,withathousandstablesfilledwithathousandwoodenhorsestoplaywith,acellaroverflowingwithlemonadeandicecreamsoda,andalibraryofcandiesandfruits,cakesandcookies.”Thusamusinghimselfwithfancies,hecametothefield.Therehestoppedto

see if, by any chance, a vine filledwith gold coinswas in sight. But he sawnothing! He took a few steps forward, and still nothing! He stepped into thefield.Hewentup to theplacewherehehaddug thehole andburied thegoldpieces. Again nothing! Pinocchio became very thoughtful and, forgetting hisgoodmannersaltogether,hepulledahandoutofhispocketandgavehisheadathoroughscratching.Ashedidso,heheardaheartyburstoflaughterclosetohishead.Heturned

sharply, and there, just above him on the branch of a tree, sat a large Parrot,busilypreeninghisfeathers.“Whatareyoulaughingat?”Pinocchioaskedpeevishly.“Iam laughingbecause, inpreeningmy feathers, I tickledmyselfunder the

wings.”TheMarionettedidnotanswer.Hewalkedto thebrook,filledhisshoewith

water,andoncemoresprinkledthegroundwhichcoveredthegoldpieces.Anotherburstoflaughter,evenmoreimpertinentthanthefirst,washeardin

thequietfield.“Well,”criedtheMarionette,angrilythistime,“mayIknow,Mr.Parrot,what

amusesyouso?”“Iamlaughingatthosesimpletonswhobelieveeverythingtheyhearandwho

allowthemselvestobecaughtsoeasilyinthetrapssetforthem.”“Doyou,perhaps,meanme?”“Icertainlydomeanyou,poorPinocchio—youwhoaresuchalittlesillyasto

believethatgoldcanbesowninafieldjustlikebeansorsquash.I,too,believedthatonceandtodayIamverysorryforit.Today(buttoolate!)Ihavereachedthe conclusion that, in order to come bymoney honestly, onemustwork andknowhowtoearnitwithhandorbrain.”“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said the Marionette, who was

beginningtotremblewithfear.“Toobad!I’llexplainmyselfbetter,”saidtheParrot.“Whileyouwereaway

inthecitytheFoxandtheCatreturnedhereinagreathurry.Theytookthefourgoldpieceswhichyouhaveburiedandranawayasfastasthewind.Ifyoucancatchthem,you’reabraveone!”Pinocchio’smouthopenedwide.HewouldnotbelievetheParrot’swordsand

begantodigawayfuriouslyattheearth.Hedugandhedugtilltheholewasasbigashimself,butnomoneywasthere.Everypennywasgone.Indesperation,herantothecityandwentstraighttothecourthousetoreport

the robbery to the magistrate. The Judge was a Monkey, a large Gorillavenerablewithage.Aflowingwhitebeardcoveredhischestandheworegold-rimmed spectacles from which the glasses had dropped out. The reason forwearing these, he said, was that his eyes had beenweakened by thework ofmanyyears.Pinocchio,standingbeforehim, toldhispitiful tale,wordbyword.Hegave

thenamesandthedescriptionsoftherobbersandbeggedforjustice.TheJudgelistenedtohimwithgreatpatience.Akindlookshoneinhiseyes.

He became verymuch interested in the story; he feltmoved; he almostwept.WhentheMarionettehadnomoretosay,theJudgeputouthishandandrangabell.Atthesound,twolargeMastiffsappeared,dressedinCarabineers’uniforms.Thenthemagistrate,pointingtoPinocchio,saidinaverysolemnvoice:“This poor simpleton has been robbed of four gold pieces. Take him,

therefore,andthrowhimintoprison.”TheMarionette,onhearingthissentencepassed upon him, was thoroughly stunned. He tried to protest, but the twoofficersclappedtheirpawsonhismouthandhustledhimawaytojail.Therehehadtoremainforfourlong,wearymonths.Andifithadnotbeenfor

averyluckychance,heprobablywouldhavehadtostaytherelonger.For,my

dearchildren,youmustknowthatithappenedjustthenthattheyoungemperorwhoruledover theCityofSimpleSimonshadgainedagreatvictoryoverhisenemy, and in celebration thereof, he had ordered illuminations, fireworks,showsofallkinds,and,bestofall,theopeningofallprisondoors.“Iftheothersgo,Igo,too,”saidPinocchiototheJailer.“Notyou,”answeredtheJailer.“Youareoneofthose—”“Ibegyourpardon,”interruptedPinocchio,“I,too,amathief.”“Inthatcaseyoualsoarefree,”saidtheJailer.Takingoffhiscap,hebowed

lowandopened the door of the prison, andPinocchio ran out and away,withneveralookbackward.

CHAPTER20

Freedfromprison,PinocchiosetsouttoreturntotheFairy;butonthewayhemeetsaSerpentandlateriscaughtinatrap.FancythehappinessofPinocchioonfindinghimselffree!Withoutsayingyes

orno,hefledfromthecityandsetoutontheroadthatwastotakehimbacktothehouseofthelovelyFairy.It had rained for many days, and the road was so muddy that, at times,

Pinocchiosankdownalmosttohisknees.Buthekeptonbravely.Tormentedbythewishtoseehisfatherandhisfairysisterwithazurehair,he

racedlikeagreyhound.Asheran,hewassplashedwithmudevenuptohiscap.“How unhappy I have been,” he said to himself. “And yet I deserve

everything,forIamcertainlyverystubbornandstupid!Iwillalwayshavemyownway.Iwon’tlistentothosewholovemeandwhohavemorebrainsthanI.Butfromnowon,I’llbedifferentandI’lltrytobecomeamostobedientboy.Ihavefoundout,beyondanydoubtwhatever,thatdisobedientboysarecertainlyfarfromhappy,andthat,inthelongrun,theyalwaysloseout.IwonderifFatheriswaitingforme.WillIfindhimattheFairy’shouse?Itissolong,poorman,since I have seenhim, and I do sowant his love andhis kisses.Andwill theFairyeverforgivemeforallIhavedone?ShewhohasbeensogoodtomeandtowhomIowemylife!CantherebeaworseormoreheartlessboythanIamanywhere?”Ashespoke,hestoppedsuddenly,frozenwithterror.Whatwas thematter?An immenseSerpent laystretchedacross the road—a

Serpentwith a bright green skin, fiery eyeswhich glowed and burned, and apointedtailthatsmokedlikeachimney.HowfrightenedwaspoorPinocchio!Heranbackwildlyforhalfamile,and

atlastsettledhimselfatopaheapofstonestowaitfortheSerpenttogoonhiswayandleavetheroadclearforhim.Hewaitedanhour;twohours;threehours;buttheSerpentwasalwaysthere,

and even fromafar one could see the flashof his red eyes and the columnofsmokewhichrosefromhislong,pointedtail.Pinocchio, trying tofeelverybrave,walkedstraightup tohimandsaid ina

sweet,soothingvoice:“Ibegyourpardon,Mr.Serpent,wouldyoubesokindastostepasidetolet

mepass?”Hemightaswellhavetalkedtoawall.TheSerpentnevermoved.Oncemore,inthesamesweetvoice,hespoke:“You must know, Mr. Serpent, that I am going home where my father is

waitingforme.ItissolongsinceIhaveseenhim!WouldyoumindverymuchifIpassed?”Hewaitedforsomesignofananswertohisquestions,buttheanswerdidnot

come. On the contrary, the green Serpent, who had seemed, until then, wideawakeandfulloflife,becamesuddenlyveryquietandstill.Hiseyesclosedandhistailstoppedsmoking.“Is hedead, Iwonder?” saidPinocchio, rubbinghis hands together happily.

Withoutamoment’shesitation,hestartedtostepoverhim,buthehadjustraisedonelegwhentheSerpentshotuplikeaspringandtheMarionettefellheadoverheelsbackward.Hefellsoawkwardlythathisheadstuckinthemud,andtherehestoodwithhislegsstraightupintheair.AtthesightoftheMarionettekickingandsquirminglikeayoungwhirlwind,

theSerpentlaughedsoheartilyandsolongthatatlastheburstanarteryanddiedonthespot.Pinocchio freedhimself fromhisawkwardpositionandoncemorebegan to

run in order to reach theFairy’s house before dark.As hewent, the pangs ofhungergrewsostrongthat,unabletowithstandthem,hejumpedintoafieldtopickafewgrapesthattemptedhim.Woetohim!Nosoonerhadhereachedthegrapevinethan—crack!wenthislegs.The poorMarionette was caught in a trap set there by a Farmer for some

Weaselswhichcameeverynighttostealhischickens.

CHAPTER21

PinocchioiscaughtbyaFarmer,whouseshimasawatchdogforhischickencoop.Pinocchio,asyoumaywellimagine,begantoscreamandweepandbeg;but

allwasofnouse,fornohousesweretobeseenandnotasoulpassedbyontheroad.Nightcameon.A little because of the sharp pain in his legs, a little because of fright at

findinghimselfalone in thedarknessof the field, theMarionettewasabout tofaint,whenhesawatinyGlowwormflickeringby.Hecalledtoherandsaid:“DearlittleGlowworm,willyousetmefree?”“Poorlittlefellow!”repliedtheGlowworm,stoppingtolookathimwithpity.

“Howcameyoutobecaughtinthistrap?”“Isteppedintothislonelyfieldtotakeafewgrapesand—”“Arethegrapesyours?”“No.”“Whohastaughtyoutotakethingsthatdonotbelongtoyou?”“Iwashungry.”“Hunger, my boy, is no reason for taking something which belongs to

another.”“It’strue,it’strue!”criedPinocchiointears.“Iwon’tdoitagain.”Just then, the conversationwas interruptedby approaching footsteps. Itwas

theownerofthefield,whowascomingontiptoestoseeif,bychance,hehadcaughttheWeaselswhichhadbeeneatinghischickens.Greatwashissurprisewhen,onholdinguphislantern,hesawthat,insteadof

aWeasel,hehadcaughtaboy!“Ah,youlittlethief!”saidtheFarmerinanangryvoice.“Soyouaretheone

whostealsmychickens!”“NotI!No,no!”criedPinocchio,sobbingbitterly.“Icamehereonlytotakea

veryfewgrapes.”“Hewhostealsgrapesmayveryeasilystealchickensalso.Takemywordfor

it,I’llgiveyoualessonthatyou’llrememberforalongwhile.”Heopenedthetrap,grabbedtheMarionettebythecollar,andcarriedhimto

thehouseasifhewereapuppy.Whenhereachedtheyardinfrontofthehouse,heflunghimtotheground,putafootonhisneck,andsaidtohimroughly:“Itislatenowandit’stimeforbed.Tomorrowwe’llsettlematters.Inthemeantime,sincemywatchdogdiedtoday,youmaytakehisplaceandguardmyhenhouse.”No sooner said thandone.He slippedadogcollar aroundPinocchio’sneck

andtighteneditsothatitwouldnotcomeoff.Alongironchainwastiedtothecollar.Theotherendofthechainwasnailedtothewall.“If tonight itshouldhappentorain,”said theFarmer,“youcansleepin that

littledoghousenear-by,whereyouwillfindplentyofstrawforasoftbed.IthasbeenMelampo’sbedforthreeyears,anditwillbegoodenoughforyou.Andif,byanychance,anythievesshouldcome,besuretobark!”After this lastwarning, theFarmerwent into thehouse andclosed thedoor

andbarredit.Poor Pinocchio huddled close to the doghouse more dead than alive from

cold,hunger,andfright.Nowandagainhepulledandtuggedatthecollarwhichnearlychokedhimandcriedoutinaweakvoice:“I deserve it! Yes, I deserve it! I have been nothing but a truant and a

vagabond.IhaveneverobeyedanyoneandIhavealwaysdoneasIpleased.IfIwereonlylikesomanyothersandhadstudiedandworkedandstayedwithmypoor old father, I should not find myself here now, in this field and in thedarkness, taking theplaceofa farmer’swatchdog.Oh, if Icouldstartalloveragain!Butwhatisdonecan’tbeundone,andImustbepatient!”After this little sermon to himself,which came from the very depths of his

heart,Pinocchiowentintothedoghouseandfellasleep.

CHAPTER22

Pinocchiodiscovers the thievesand, asa reward for faithfulness,he regainshisliberty.Eventhoughaboymaybeveryunhappy,heveryseldomlosessleepoverhis

worries.TheMarionette,beingnoexceptiontothisrule,sleptonpeacefullyforafewhours tillwell along towardmidnight,whenhewas awakenedby strangewhisperingsandstealthysoundscomingfromtheyard.Hestuckhisnoseoutofthe doghouse and saw four slender, hairy animals. They wereWeasels, smallanimalsveryfondofbotheggsandchickens.Oneofthemlefthercompanionsand,goingtothedoorofthedoghouse,saidinasweetvoice:“Goodevening,Melampo.”“MynameisnotMelampo,”answeredPinocchio.“Whoareyou,then?”“IamPinocchio.”“Whatareyoudoinghere?”“I’mthewatchdog.”“But where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who used to live in this

house?”“Hediedthismorning.”“Died?Poorbeast!Hewassogood!Still,judgingbyyourface,Ithinkyou,

too,areagood-natureddog.”“Ibegyourpardon,Iamnotadog!”“Whatareyou,then?”“IamaMarionette.”“Areyoutakingtheplaceofthewatchdog?”“I’msorrytosaythatIam.I’mbeingpunished.”“Well, I shall make the same terms with you that we had with the dead

Melampo.Iamsureyouwillbegladtohearthem.”“Andwhataretheterms?”“Thisisourplan:We’llcomeonceinawhile,asinthepast,topayavisitto

this henhouse, andwe’ll take away eight chickens.Of these, seven are for us,

andoneforyou,provided,ofcourse,thatyouwillmakebelieveyouaresleepingandwillnotbarkfortheFarmer.”“DidMelamporeallydothat?”askedPinocchio.“Indeedhedid,andbecauseof thatwewerethebestoffriends.Sleepaway

peacefully,andrememberthatbeforewegoweshallleaveyouanicefatchickenallreadyforyourbreakfastinthemorning.Isthatunderstood?”“Eventoowell,”answeredPinocchio.Andshakinghisheadinathreatening

manner,heseemedtosay,“We’lltalkthisoverinafewminutes,myfriends.”AssoonasthefourWeaselshadtalkedthingsover,theywentstraighttothe

chickencoopwhichstoodclosetothedoghouse.Diggingbusilywithteethandclaws,theyopenedthelittledoorandslippedin.Buttheywerenosoonerinthantheyheardthedoorclosewithasharpbang.TheonewhohaddonethetrickwasPinocchio,who,notsatisfiedwiththat,

draggedaheavystoneinfrontofit.Thatdone,hestartedtobark.Andhebarkedasifhewerearealwatchdog:“Bow,wow,wow!Bow,wow!”TheFarmerheardthe loudbarksandjumpedoutofbed.Takinghisgun,he

leapedtothewindowandshouted:“What’sthematter?”“Thethievesarehere,”answeredPinocchio.“Wherearethey?”“Inthechickencoop.”“I’llcomedowninasecond.”And,infact,hewasdownintheyardinatwinklingandrunningtowardthe

chickencoop.Heopenedthedoor,pulledouttheWeaselsonebyone,and,aftertyingthem

in a bag, said to them in a happy voice: “You’re inmyhands at last! I couldpunishyounow,butI’llwait!Inthemorningyoumaycomewithmetotheinnandthereyou’llmakeafinedinnerforsomehungrymortal.Itisreallytoogreatanhonorforyou,oneyoudonotdeserve;but,asyousee,IamreallyaverykindandgenerousmanandIamgoingtodothisforyou!”ThenhewentuptoPinocchioandbegantopetandcaresshim.“Howdidyoueverfindthemoutsoquickly?AndtothinkthatMelampo,my

faithfulMelampo,neversawtheminalltheseyears!”The Marionette could have told, then and there, all he knew about the

shameful contract between the dog and theWeasels, but thinking of the deaddog,hesaidtohimself:“Melampoisdead.Whatistheuseofaccusinghim?The

dead are gone and they cannot defend themselves. The best thing to do is toleavetheminpeace!”“Wereyouawakeorasleepwhentheycame?”continuedtheFarmer.“I was asleep,” answered Pinocchio, “but they awakened me with their

whisperings.Oneofthemevencametothedoorofthedoghouseandsaidtome,‘Ifyoupromisenottobark,wewillmakeyouapresentofoneofthechickensfor your breakfast.’Did youhear that?Theyhad the audacity tomake such apropositionasthattome!Foryoumustknowthat, thoughIamaverywickedMarionettefulloffaults,stillIneverhavebeen,norevershallbe,bribed.”“Fineboy!”criedtheFarmer,slappinghimontheshoulderinafriendlyway.

“Yououghttobeproudofyourself.AndtoshowyouwhatIthinkofyou,youarefreefromthisinstant!”Andheslippedthedogcollarfromhisneck.

CHAPTER23

Pinocchioweeps upon learning that the LovelyMaidenwithAzureHair isdead.Hemeets aPigeon,who carries him to the seashore.He throwshimselfintotheseatogototheaidofhisfather.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 neverstoppedtillhecametothemainroadthatwastotakehimtotheFairy’shouse.Whenhereachedit,helookedintothevalleyfarbelowhimandtherehesaw

thewoodwhereunluckilyhehadmettheFoxandtheCat,andthetalloaktreewherehehadbeenhanged;butthoughhesearchedfarandnear,hecouldnotseethehousewheretheFairywiththeAzureHairlived.He became terribly frightened and, running as fast as he could, he finally

cametothespotwhereithadoncestood.Thelittlehousewasnolongerthere.Initsplacelayasmallmarbleslab,whichborethissadinscription:HERELIES

THELOVELYFAIRYWITHAZUREHAIR

WHODIEDOFGRIEF

WHENABANDONEDBY

HERLITTLEBROTHERPINOCCHIO

ThepoorMarionettewasheartbrokenat reading thesewords.He fell to thegroundand,coveringthecoldmarblewithkisses,burstintobittertears.Hecriedall night, and dawn found him still there, though his tears had dried and onlyhard,drysobsshookhiswoodenframe.Buttheseweresoloudthattheycouldbeheardbythefarawayhills.Ashesobbedhesaidtohimself:“Oh,myFairy,mydear,dearFairy,whydidyoudie?WhydidInotdie,who

amsobad,insteadofyou,whoaresogood?Andmyfather—wherecanhebe?PleasedearFairy,tellmewhereheisandIshallnever,neverleavehimagain!Youarenotreallydead,areyou?Ifyouloveme,youwillcomeback,aliveasbefore.Don’tyoufeelsorryforme?I’msolonely.If thetwoAssassinscome,they’ll hangme again from the giant oak tree and Iwill really die, this time.WhatshallIdoaloneintheworld?Nowthatyouaredeadandmyfatherislost,whereshall Ieat?Whereshall Isleep?Whowillmakemynewclothes?Oh,Iwanttodie!Yes,Iwanttodie!Oh,oh,oh!”PoorPinocchio!Heeventriedtotearhishair,butasitwasonlypaintedonhis

woodenhead,hecouldnotevenpullit.JustthenalargePigeonflewfarabovehim.SeeingtheMarionette,hecriedto

him:“Tellme,littleboy,whatareyoudoingthere?”“Can’tyousee?I’mcrying,”criedPinocchio,liftinghisheadtowardthevoice

andrubbinghiseyeswithhissleeve.“Tell me,” asked the Pigeon, “do you by chance know of a Marionette,

Pinocchiobyname?”“Pinocchio!DidyousayPinocchio?” replied theMarionette, jumping tohis

feet.“Why,IamPinocchio!”Atthisanswer,thePigeonflewswiftlydowntotheearth.Hewasmuchlarger

thanaturkey.“ThenyouknowGeppettoalso?”“Do I know him? He’s my father, my poor, dear father! Has he, perhaps,

spoken toyouofme?Willyou takeme tohim? Ishe still alive?Answerme,please!Ishestillalive?”“Ilefthimthreedaysagoontheshoreofalargesea.”“Whatwashedoing?”“Hewasbuildingalittleboatwithwhichtocrosstheocean.Forthelastfour

months,thatpoormanhasbeenwanderingaroundEurope,lookingforyou.Nothaving found you yet, he has made up his mind to look for you in the NewWorld,faracrosstheocean.”“Howfarisitfromheretotheshore?”askedPinocchioanxiously.“Morethanfiftymiles.”“Fiftymiles?Oh,dearPigeon,howIwishIhadyourwings!”“Ifyouwanttocome,I’lltakeyouwithme.”“How?”“Astridemyback.Areyouveryheavy?”“Heavy?Notatall.I’monlyafeather.”“Verywell.”Saying nothing more, Pinocchio jumped on the Pigeon’s back and, as he

settledhimself,hecriedoutgayly:“Gallopon,gallopon,myprettysteed!I’minagreathurry.”ThePigeonflewaway,andinafewminuteshehadreachedtheclouds.The

Marionettelookedtoseewhatwasbelowthem.Hisheadswamandhewassofrightened that he clutched wildly at the Pigeon’s neck to keep himself fromfalling.Theyflewallday.TowardeveningthePigeonsaid:“I’mverythirsty!”“AndI’mveryhungry!”saidPinocchio.“Letusstopafewminutesatthatpigeoncoopdownthere.Thenwecangoon

andbeattheseashoreinthemorning.”Theywent into the emptycoopand there they foundnothingbut abowlof

waterandasmallbasketfilledwithchick-peas.The Marionette had always hated chick-peas. According to him, they had

alwaysmadehimsick;but thatnightheate themwitharelish.Ashefinishedthem,heturnedtothePigeonandsaid:“Inevershouldhavethoughtthatchick-peascouldbesogood!”“Youmustremember,myboy,”answeredthePigeon,“thathungeristhebest

sauce!”Afterrestingafewminuteslonger,theysetoutagain.Thenextmorningthey

wereattheseashore.Pinocchio jumped off the Pigeon’s back, and the Pigeon, not wanting any

thanksforakinddeed,flewawayswiftlyanddisappeared.Theshorewasfullofpeople,shriekingandtearingtheirhairas theylooked

towardthesea.“Whathashappened?”askedPinocchioofalittleoldwoman.“Apooroldfatherlosthisonlysonsometimeagoandtodayhebuilta tiny

boatforhimself inorder togoinsearchofhimacross theocean.Thewater isveryroughandwe’reafraidhewillbedrowned.”“Whereisthelittleboat?”“There. Straight down there,” answered the little old woman, pointing to a

tinyshadow,nobiggerthananutshell,floatingonthesea.Pinocchiolookedcloselyforafewminutesandthengaveasharpcry:“It’smyfather!It’smyfather!”Meanwhile, the little boat, tossed about by the angry waters, appeared and

disappearedinthewaves.AndPinocchio,standingonahighrock,tiredoutwithsearching,wavedtohimwithhandandcapandevenwithhisnose.ItlookedasifGeppetto,thoughfarawayfromtheshore,recognizedhisson,

forhetookoffhiscapandwavedalso.Heseemedtobetryingtomakeeveryoneunderstandthathewouldcomebackifhewereable,but theseawassoheavythathecoulddonothingwithhisoars.Suddenlyahugewavecameandtheboatdisappeared.Theywaitedandwaitedforit,butitwasgone.“Poorman!” said the fisher folk on the shore, whispering a prayer as they

turnedtogohome.Just then a desperate cry was heard. Turning around, the fisher folk saw

Pinocchiodiveintotheseaandheardhimcryout:“I’llsavehim!I’llsavemyfather!”TheMarionette, beingmade ofwood, floated easily along and swam like a

fish in the roughwater.Now and again he disappeared only to reappear oncemore.Inatwinkling,hewasfarawayfromland.Atlasthewascompletelylosttoview.“Poorboy!”criedthefisherfolkontheshore,andagaintheymumbledafew

prayers,astheyreturnedhome.

CHAPTER24

PinocchioreachestheIslandoftheBusyBeesandfindstheFairyoncemore.Pinocchio,spurredonbythehopeoffindinghisfatherandofbeingintimeto

savehim,swamallnightlong.Andwhatahorriblenightitwas!Itpouredrain,ithailed,itthundered,andthe

lightningwassobrightthatitturnedthenightintoday.At dawn, he saw, not far away fromhim, a long stretch of sand. Itwas an

islandinthemiddleofthesea.Pinocchiotriedhisbesttogetthere,buthecouldn’t.Thewavesplayedwith

him and tossed him about as if hewere a twig or a bit of straw.At last, andluckilyforhim,atremendouswavetossedhimtotheveryspotwherehewantedtobe.Theblowfromthewavewassostrongthat,ashefelltotheground,hisjointscrackedandalmostbroke.But,nothingdaunted,hejumpedtohisfeetandcried:“OncemoreIhaveescapedwithmylife!”Littlebylittletheskycleared.Thesuncameoutinfullsplendorandthesea

becameascalmasalake.ThentheMarionettetookoffhisclothesandlaidthemonthesandtodry.He

lookedoverthewaterstoseewhetherhemightcatchsightofaboatwithalittlemaninit.Hesearchedandhesearched,buthesawnothingexceptseaandskyandfarawayafewsails,sosmallthattheymighthavebeenbirds.“IfonlyIknewthenameofthisisland!”hesaidtohimself.“IfIevenknew

whatkindofpeopleIwouldfindhere!ButwhomshallIask?Thereisnoonehere.”Theideaoffindinghimselfinsolonesomeaspotmadehimsosadthathewas

abouttocry,butjustthenhesawabigFishswimmingnear-by,withhisheadfaroutofthewater.Notknowingwhattocallhim,theMarionettesaidtohim:“Heythere,Mr.Fish,mayIhaveawordwithyou?”“Eventwo,ifyouwant,”answeredthefish,whohappenedtobeaverypolite

Dolphin.“Willyoupleasetellmeif,onthisisland,thereareplaceswhereonemayeat

withoutnecessarilybeingeaten?”“Surely,thereare,”answeredtheDolphin.“Infactyou’llfindonenotfarfrom

thisspot.”“AndhowshallIgetthere?”“Takethatpathonyourleftandfollowyournose.Youcan’tgowrong.”“Tellmeanotherthing.Youwhotraveldayandnightthroughthesea,didyou

notperhapsmeetalittleboatwithmyfatherinit?”“Andwhoisyoufather?”“He is the best father in theworld, even as I am theworst son that can be

found.”“Inthestormoflastnight,”answeredtheDolphin,“thelittleboatmusthave

beenswamped.”“Andmyfather?”“Bythistime,hemusthavebeenswallowedbytheTerribleShark,which,for

thelastfewdays,hasbeenbringingterrortothesewaters.”“IsthisSharkverybig?”askedPinocchio,whowasbeginningtotremblewith

fright.“Ishebig?”repliedtheDolphin.“Justtogiveyouanideaofhissize,letme

tellyouthatheislargerthanafivestorybuildingandthathehasamouthsobigandsodeep,thatawholetrainandenginecouldeasilygetintoit.”“Mothermine!”criedtheMarionette,scaredtodeath;anddressinghimselfas

fastashecould,heturnedtotheDolphinandsaid:“Farewell,Mr.Fish.Pardonthebother,andmanythanksforyourkindness.”Thissaid,hetookthepathatsoswiftagaitthatheseemedtofly,andatevery

smallsoundheheard,he turned in fear toseewhether theTerribleShark, fivestorieshighandwithatraininhismouth,wasfollowinghim.Afterwalkingahalfhour,hecametoasmallcountrycalledtheLandofthe

BusyBees. The streetswere filledwith people running to and fro about theirtasks. Everyone worked, everyone had something to do. Even if one were tosearchwithalantern,notoneidlemanoronetrampcouldhavebeenfound.“Iunderstand,”saidPinocchioatoncewearily,“thisisnoplaceforme!Iwas

notbornforwork.”But in themeantime, he began to feel hungry, for itwas twenty-four hours

sincehehadeaten.Whatwastobedone?

Therewereonly twomeans left tohim inorder togetabite toeat.Hehadeithertoworkortobeg.Hewasashamedtobeg,becausehisfatherhadalwayspreachedtohimthat

beggingshouldbedoneonlybythesickortheold.Hehadsaidthattherealpoorin this world, deserving of our pity and help, were only those who, eitherthroughageorsickness,hadlostthemeansofearningtheirbreadwiththeirownhands.Allothersshouldwork,andiftheydidn’t,andwenthungry,somuchtheworseforthem.Justthenamanpassedby,wornoutandwetwithperspiration,pulling,with

difficulty,twoheavycartsfilledwithcoal.Pinocchiolookedathimand,judginghimbyhislookstobeakindman,said

tohimwitheyesdowncastinshame:“Willyoubesogoodastogivemeapenny,forIamfaintwithhunger?”“Notonlyonepenny,”answeredtheCoalMan.“I’llgiveyoufourifyouwill

helpmepullthesetwowagons.”“Iamsurprised!”answeredtheMarionette,verymuchoffended.“Iwishyou

toknowthatIneverhavebeenadonkey,norhaveIeverpulledawagon.”“Somuchthebetterforyou!”answeredtheCoalMan.“Then,myboy,ifyou

arereallyfaintwithhunger,eattwoslicesofyourpride;andIhopetheydon’tgiveyouindigestion.”Afewminutesafter,aBricklayerpassedby,carryingapailfullofplasteron

hisshoulder.“Goodman,willyoubekindenough togiveapenny toapoorboywho is

yawningfromhunger?”“Gladly,” answered theBricklayer. “Comewithme and carry some plaster,

andinsteadofonepenny,I’llgiveyoufive.”“But the plaster is heavy,” answeredPinocchio, “and thework too hard for

me.”“If thework is too hard for you,my boy, enjoy your yawns andmay they

bringyouluck!”Inlessthanahalfhour,atleasttwentypeoplepassedandPinocchiobeggedof

eachone,buttheyallanswered:“Aren’tyouashamed?Insteadofbeingabeggarinthestreets,whydon’tyou

lookforworkandearnyourownbread?”Finallyalittlewomanwentbycarryingtwowaterjugs.

“Goodwoman,will you allowme to have a drink fromoneof your jugs?”askedPinocchio,whowasburningupwiththirst.“Withpleasure,myboy!” she answered, setting the two jugson theground

beforehim.WhenPinocchiohadhadhisfill,hegrumbled,ashewipedhismouth:“Mythirstisgone.IfIcouldonlyaseasilygetridofmyhunger!”Onhearingthesewords,thegoodlittlewomanimmediatelysaid:“Ifyouhelpmetocarrythesejugshome,I’llgiveyouasliceofbread.”Pinocchiolookedatthejugandsaidneitheryesnorno.“Andwiththebread,I’llgiveyouanicedishofcauliflowerwithwhitesauce

onit.”Pinocchiogavethejuganotherlookandsaidneitheryesnorno.“Andafterthecauliflower,somecakeandjam.”Atthislastbribery,Pinocchiocouldnolongerresistandsaidfirmly:“Verywell.I’lltakethejughomeforyou.”Thejugwasveryheavy,andtheMarionette,notbeingstrongenoughtocarry

itwithhishands,hadtoputitonhishead.Whentheyarrivedhome,thelittlewomanmadePinocchiositdownatasmall

tableandplacedbeforehimthebread,thecauliflower,andthecake.Pinocchiodidnoteat;hedevoured.Hisstomachseemedabottomlesspit.Hishungerfinallyappeased,heraisedhisheadtothankhiskindbenefactress.

Buthehadnotlookedatherlongwhenhegaveacryofsurpriseandsattherewithhiseyeswideopen,hisforkintheair,andhismouthfilledwithbreadandcauliflower.“Whyallthissurprise?”askedthegoodwoman,laughing.“Because—”answeredPinocchio,stammeringandstuttering,“because—you

looklike—youremindmeof—yes,yes,thesamevoice,thesameeyes,thesamehair—yes, yes, yes, you alsohave the sameazurehair shehad—Oh,my littleFairy,mylittleFairy!Tellmethatit isyou!Don’tmakemecryanylonger!Ifyouonlyknew!Ihavecriedsomuch,Ihavesufferedso!”And Pinocchio threw himself on the floor and clasped the knees of the

mysteriouslittlewoman.

CHAPTER25

PinocchiopromisestheFairytobegoodandtostudy,asheisgrowingtiredofbeingaMarionette,andwishestobecomearealboy.IfPinocchiocriedmuchlonger,thelittlewomanthoughthewouldmeltaway,

soshefinallyadmittedthatshewasthelittleFairywithAzureHair.“You rascal of a Marionette! How did you know it was I?” she asked,

laughing.“Myloveforyoutoldmewhoyouwere.”“Doyouremember?YouleftmewhenIwasalittlegirlandnowyoufindme

agrownwoman.Iamsoold,Icouldalmostbeyourmother!”“Iamverygladofthat,forthenIcancallyoumotherinsteadofsister.Fora

longtimeIhavewantedamother,justlikeotherboys.Buthowdidyougrowsoquickly?”“That’sasecret!”“Tell it tome. Ialsowant togrowa little.Lookatme! Ihavenevergrown

higherthanapenny’sworthofcheese.”“Butyoucan’tgrow,”answeredtheFairy.“Whynot?”“Because Marionettes never grow. They are born Marionettes, they live

Marionettes,andtheydieMarionettes.”“Oh, I’m tired of always being aMarionette!” cried Pinocchio disgustedly.

“It’sabouttimeformetogrowintoamanaseveryoneelsedoes.”“Andyouwillifyoudeserveit—”“Really?WhatcanIdotodeserveit?”“It’saverysimplematter.Trytoactlikeawell-behavedchild.”“Don’tyouthinkIdo?”“Farfromit!Goodboysareobedient,andyou,onthecontrary—”“AndIneverobey.”“Goodboyslovestudyandwork,butyou—”“AndI,onthecontrary,amalazyfellowandatrampallyearround.”“Goodboysalwaystellthetruth.”

“AndIalwaystelllies.”“Goodboysgogladlytoschool.”“AndIgetsickifIgotoschool.FromnowonI’llbedifferent.”“Doyoupromise?”“I promise. I want to become a good boy and be a comfort to my father.

Whereismypoorfathernow?”“Idonotknow.”“WillIeverbeluckyenoughtofindhimandembracehimoncemore?”“Ithinkso.Indeed,Iamsureofit.”Atthisanswer,Pinocchio’shappinesswasverygreat.HegraspedtheFairy’s

hands and kissed them so hard that it looked as if he had lost his head.Thenliftinghis face,he lookedather lovinglyandasked:“Tellme, littleMother, itisn’ttruethatyouaredead,isit?”“Itdoesn’tseemso,”answeredtheFairy,smiling.“IfyouonlyknewhowIsufferedandhowIweptwhenIread‘Herelies—‘”“Iknowit,andforthatIhaveforgivenyou.Thedepthofyoursorrowmade

me see that you have a kind heart.There is always hope for boyswith heartssuchasyours, though theymayoftenbeverymischievous.This is the reasonwhy Ihavecomeso far to look foryou.Fromnowon, I’llbeyourown littlemother.”“Oh!Howlovely!”criedPinocchio,jumpingwithjoy.“YouwillobeymealwaysanddoasIwish?”“Gladly,verygladly,morethangladly!”“Beginningtomorrow,”saidtheFairy,“you’llgotoschooleveryday.”Pinocchio’sfacefellalittle.“Thenyouwillchoosethetradeyoulikebest.”Pinocchiobecamemoreserious.“Whatareyoumumblingtoyourself?”askedtheFairy.“Iwasjustsaying,”whinedtheMarionetteinawhisper,“thatitseemstoolate

formetogotoschoolnow.”“No,indeed.Rememberitisnevertoolatetolearn.”“ButIdon’twanteithertradeorprofession.”“Why?”

“Becauseworkweariesme!”“Mydearboy,”saidtheFairy,“peoplewhospeakasyoudousuallyendtheir

dayseitherinaprisonorinahospital.Aman,remember,whetherrichorpoor,should do something in this world. No one can find happiness without work.Woe betide the lazy fellow!Laziness is a serious illness and onemust cure itimmediately;yes,evenfromearlychildhood.Ifnot,itwillkillyouintheend.”ThesewordstouchedPinocchio’sheart.HeliftedhiseyestohisFairyandsaid

seriously: “I’llwork; I’ll study; I’ll do all you tellme.After all, the life of aMarionette has grown very tiresome to me and I want to become a boy, nomatterhowharditis.Youpromisethat,doyounot?”“Yes,Ipromise,andnowitisuptoyou.”

CHAPTER26

PinocchiogoestotheseashorewithhisfriendstoseetheTerribleShark.Inthemorning,brightandearly,Pinocchiostartedforschool.ImaginewhattheboyssaidwhentheysawaMarionetteentertheclassroom!

Theylaugheduntiltheycried.Everyoneplayedtricksonhim.Onepulledhishatoff,anothertuggedathiscoat,athirdtriedtopaintamustacheunderhisnose.Oneevenattemptedtotiestringstohisfeetandhishandstomakehimdance.ForawhilePinocchiowasverycalmandquiet.Finally,however,helostall

patienceandturningtohistormentors,hesaidtothemthreateningly:“Careful,boys,Ihaven’tcomeheretobemadefunof.I’llrespectyouandI

wantyoutorespectme.”“HurrahforDr.Know-all!Youhavespokenlikeaprintedbook!”howledthe

boys,burstingwithlaughter.Oneofthem,moreimpudentthantherest,putouthishandtopulltheMarionette’snose.Buthewasnotquickenough,forPinocchiostretchedhislegunderthetable

andkickedhimhardontheshin.“Oh,what hard feet!” cried the boy, rubbing the spotwhere theMarionette

hadkickedhim.“Andwhatelbows!Theyareevenharderthanthefeet!”shoutedanotherone,

who,becauseofsomeothertrick,hadreceivedablowinthestomach.With thatkickand thatblowPinocchiogainedeverybody’s favor.Everyone

admiredhim,dancedattendanceuponhim,pettedandcaressedhim.Asthedayspassedintoweeks,eventheteacherpraisedhim,forhesawhim

attentive, hard working, and wide awake, always the first to come in themorning,andthelasttoleavewhenschoolwasover.Pinocchio’sonly faultwas thathehad toomanyfriends.Among thesewere

manywell-knownrascals,whocarednotajotforstudyorforsuccess.The teacherwarnedhimeachday,andeven thegoodFairy repeated tohim

manytimes:“Takecare,Pinocchio!Thosebadcompanionswillsoonerorlatermakeyou

loseyourloveforstudy.Somedaytheywillleadyouastray.”“There’snosuchdanger,”answered theMarionette, shrugginghis shoulders

andpointingtohisforeheadasiftosay,“I’mtoowise.”Soithappenedthatoneday,ashewaswalkingtoschool,hemetsomeboys

whoranuptohimandsaid:“Haveyouheardthenews?”“No!”“ASharkasbigasamountainhasbeenseenneartheshore.”“Really?IwonderifitcouldbethesameoneIheardofwhenmyfatherwas

drowned?”“Wearegoingtoseeit.Areyoucoming?”“No,notI.Imustgotoschool.”“Whatdoyoucareaboutschool?Youcangotheretomorrow.Withalesson

moreorless,wearealwaysthesamedonkeys.”“Andwhatwilltheteachersay?”“Lethimtalk.Heispaidtogrumblealldaylong.”“Andmymother?”“Mothersdon’tknowanything,”answeredthosescamps.“DoyouknowwhatI’lldo?”saidPinocchio.“Forcertainreasonsofmine,I,

too,wanttoseethatShark;butI’llgoafterschool.Icanseehimthenaswellasnow.”“Poorsimpleton!”criedoneoftheboys.“Doyouthinkthatafishofthatsize

willstandtherewaitingforyou?Heturnsandoffhegoes,andnoonewilleverbethewiser.”“Howlongdoesittakefromheretotheshore?”askedtheMarionette.“One

hourthereandback.”“Verywell,then.Let’sseewhogetstherefirst!”criedPinocchio.Atthesignal,thelittletroop,withbooksundertheirarms,dashedacrossthe

fields.Pinocchioledtheway,runningasifonwings,theothersfollowingasfastastheycould.Nowandagain,he lookedbackand, seeinghis followershotand tired, and

withtongueshangingout,helaughedoutheartily.Unhappyboy!Ifhehadonlyknown then the dreadful things thatwere to happen to him on account of hisdisobedience!

CHAPTER27

The great battle between Pinocchio and his playmates. One is wounded.Pinocchioisarrested.Goinglikethewind,Pinocchiotookbutaveryshorttimetoreachtheshore.

He glanced all about him, but there was no sign of a Shark. The sea was assmoothasglass.“Heythere,boys!Where’sthatShark?”heasked,turningtohisplaymates.“Hemayhavegoneforhisbreakfast,”saidoneofthem,laughing.“Or,perhaps,hewenttobedforalittlenap,”saidanother,laughingalso.From the answers and the laughter which followed them, Pinocchio

understoodthattheboyshadplayedatrickonhim.“Whatnow?”hesaidangrilytothem.“What’sthejoke?”“Oh, the joke’s on you!” cried his tormentors, laughingmore heartily than

ever,anddancinggaylyaroundtheMarionette.“Andthatis—?”“That we have made you stay out of school to come with us. Aren’t you

ashamedofbeingsuchagoody-goody,andofstudyingsohard?Youneverhaveabitofenjoyment.”“Andwhatisittoyou,ifIdostudy?”“Whatdoestheteacherthinkofus,youmean?”“Why?”“Don’tyousee?Ifyoustudyandwedon’t,wepayforit.Afterall, it’sonly

fairtolookoutforourselves.”“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”“Hate school and books and teachers, as we all do. They are your worst

enemies,youknow,andtheyliketomakeyouasunhappyastheycan.”“AndifIgoonstudying,whatwillyoudotome?”“You’llpayforit!”“Really,youamuseme,”answeredtheMarionette,noddinghishead.“Hey,Pinocchio,”cried the tallestof themall,“thatwilldo.Weare tiredof

hearing you bragging about yourself, you little turkey cock! Youmay not be

afraidofus,butrememberwearenotafraidofyou,either!Youarealone,youknow,andweareseven.”“Likethesevensins,”saidPinocchio,stilllaughing.“Didyouhearthat?Hehasinsultedusall.Hehascalledussins.”“Pinocchio,apologizeforthat,orlookout!”“Cuck—oo!”saidtheMarionette,mockingthemwithhisthumbtohisnose.“You’llbesorry!”“Cuck—oo!”“We’llwhipyousoundly!”“Cuck—oo!”“You’llgohomewithabrokennose!”“Cuck—oo!”“Very well, then! Take that, and keep it for your supper,” called out the

boldestofhistormentors.Andwiththewords,hegavePinocchioaterribleblowonthehead.Pinocchio answered with another blow, and that was the signal for the

beginningofthefray.Inafewmoments,thefightragedhotandheavyonbothsides.Pinocchio,althoughalone,defendedhimselfbravely.Withthosetwowooden

feet of his, heworked so fast that his opponents kept at a respectful distance.Wherevertheylanded,theylefttheirpainfulmarkandtheboyscouldonlyrunawayandhowl.EnragedatnotbeingabletofighttheMarionetteatclosequarters,theystarted

to throw all kinds of books at him.Readers, geographies, histories, grammarsflew in all directions.ButPinocchiowas keenof eye and swift ofmovement,andthebooksonlypassedoverhishead,landedinthesea,anddisappeared.Thefish,thinkingtheymightbegoodtoeat,cametothetopofthewaterin

great numbers. Some took a nibble, some took a bite, but no sooner had theytastedapageortwo,thantheyspatthemoutwithawryface,asiftosay:“Whatahorridtaste!Ourownfoodissomuchbetter!”Meanwhile, the battle waxedmore and more furious. At the noise, a large

Crab crawled slowly out of the water and, with a voice that sounded like atrombonesufferingfromacold,hecriedout:“Stop fighting, you rascals! These battles between boys rarely end well.

Troubleissuretocometoyou!”

PoorCrab!Hemightaswellhavespokentothewind.Insteadoflisteningtohisgoodadvice,Pinocchioturnedtohimandsaidasroughlyasheknewhow:“Keepquiet,uglyGab!Itwouldbebetterforyoutochewafewcoughdrops

togetridofthatcoldyouhave.Gotobedandsleep!Youwillfeelbetterinthemorning.”Inthemeantime,theboys,havingusedalltheirbooks,lookedaroundfornew

ammunition. Seeing Pinocchio’s bundle lying idle near-by, they somehowmanagedtogetholdofit.Oneofthebookswasaverylargevolume,anarithmetictext,heavilybound

inleather.ItwasPinocchio’spride.Amongallhisbooks,helikedthatonethebest.Thinking itwouldmake a finemissile, one of the boys took hold of it and

threw it with all his strength at Pinocchio’s head. But instead of hitting theMarionette,thebookstruckoneoftheotherboys,who,aspaleasaghost,criedoutfaintly:“Oh,Mother,help!I’mdying!”andfellsenselesstotheground.At the sight of that pale little corpse, the boyswere so frightened that they

turnedtailandran.Inafewmoments,allhaddisappeared.AllexceptPinocchio.Althoughscaredtodeathbythehorrorofwhathadbeen

done,herantotheseaandsoakedhishandkerchiefinthecoolwaterandwithitbathedtheheadofhispoorlittleschoolmate.Sobbingbitterly,hecalledtohim,saying:“Eugene!MypoorEugene!Openyoureyesandlookatme!Whydon’tyou

answer? Iwasnot theonewhohit you,youknow.Believeme, I didn’tdo it.Openyoureyes,Eugene?Ifyoukeepthemshut,I’lldie,too.Oh,dearme,howshallIevergohomenow?HowshallIeverlookatmylittlemotheragain?Whatwillhappentome?WhereshallIgo?WhereshallIhide?Oh,howmuchbetteritwouldhavebeen,athousandtimesbetter,ifonlyIhadgonetoschool!WhydidIlistentothoseboys?Theyalwayswereabadinfluence!Andtothinkthatthe teacher had told me—and my mother, too!—‘Beware of bad company!’That’swhatshesaid.ButI’mstubbornandproud.Ilisten,butalwaysIdoasIwish.AndthenIpay.I’veneverhadamoment’speacesinceI’vebeenborn!Oh,dear!Whatwillbecomeofme?Whatwillbecomeofme?”Pinocchiowentoncryingandmoaningandbeatinghishead.Againandagain

hecalledtohislittlefriend,whensuddenlyheheardheavystepsapproaching.HelookedupandsawtwotallCarabineersnearhim.“Whatareyoudoingstretchedoutontheground?”theyaskedPinocchio.

“I’mhelpingthisschoolfellowofmine.”“Hashefainted?”“I should say so,” said one of the Carabineers, bending to look at Eugene.

“Thisboyhasbeenwoundedonthetemple.Whohashurthim?”“NotI,”stammeredtheMarionette,whohadhardlyabreathleftinhiswhole

body.“Ifitwasn’tyou,whowasit,then?”“NotI,”repeatedPinocchio.“Andwithwhatwashewounded?”“Withthisbook,”andtheMarionettepickedupthearithmetictexttoshowit

totheofficer.“Andwhosebookisthis?”“Mine.”“Enough.”“Notanotherword!Getupasquicklyasyoucanandcomealongwithus.”“ButI—”“Comewithus!”“ButIaminnocent.”“Comewithus!”Beforestartingout,theofficerscalledouttoseveralfishermenpassingbyina

boatandsaidtothem:“Takecareofthislittlefellowwhohasbeenhurt.Takehimhomeandbindhis

wounds.Tomorrowwe’llcomeafterhim.”TheythentookholdofPinocchioand,puttinghimbetweenthem,saidtohim

inaroughvoice:“March!Andgoquickly,oritwillbetheworseforyou!”Theydidnothavetorepeattheirwords.TheMarionettewalkedswiftlyalong

theroadtothevillage.Butthepoorfellowhardlyknewwhathewasabout.Hethoughthehadanightmare.Hefeltill.Hiseyessaweverythingdouble,hislegstrembled,his tonguewasdry, and, tryashemight,hecouldnotutter a singleword.Yet,inspiteofthisnumbnessoffeeling,hesufferedkeenlyatthethoughtofpassingunderthewindowsofhisgoodlittleFairy’shouse.WhatwouldshesayonseeinghimbetweentwoCarabineers?They had just reached the village, when a sudden gust of wind blew off

Pinocchio’scapandmadeitgosailingfardownthestreet.

“Would you allowme,” theMarionette asked theCarabineers, “to run aftermycap?”“Verywell,go;buthurry.”TheMarionettewent,pickeduphiscap—butinsteadofputtingitonhishead,

hestuckitbetweenhisteethandthenracedtowardthesea.Hewentlikeabulletoutofagun.TheCarabineers, judging that itwouldbeverydifficult tocatchhim, senta

large Mastiff after him, one that had won first prize in all the dog races.PinocchioranfastandtheDogranfaster.Atsomuchnoise,thepeoplehungoutof thewindowsorgatheredin thestreet,anxious tosee theendof thecontest.Buttheyweredisappointed,fortheDogandPinocchioraisedsomuchdustontheroadthat,afterafewmoments,itwasimpossibletoseethem.

CHAPTER28

Pinocchiorunsthedangerofbeingfriedinapanlikeafish

During thatwild chase,Pinocchio lived through a terriblemomentwhenhealmostgavehimselfupas lost.ThiswaswhenAlidoro(thatwas theMastiff’sname), in a frenzy of running, came so near that hewas on the very point ofreachinghim.TheMarionette heard, close behind him, the labored breathing of the beast

whowasfastonhistrail,andnowandagainevenfelthishotbreathblowoverhim.Luckily,bythistime,hewasveryneartheshore,andtheseawasinsight;in

fact,onlyafewshortstepsaway.Assoonasheset footon thebeach,Pinocchiogavea leapandfell into the

water.Alidorotriedtostop,butashewasrunningveryfast,hecouldn’t,andhe,too, landed farout in the sea.Strange though itmay seem, theDogcouldnotswim.He beat thewaterwith his paws to hold himself up, but the harder hetried,thedeeperhesank.Ashestuckhisheadoutoncemore,thepoorfellow’seyeswerebulgingandhebarkedoutwildly,“Idrown!Idrown!”“Drown!”answeredPinocchiofromafar,happyathisescape.“Help,Pinocchio,dearlittlePinocchio!Savemefromdeath!”Atthosecriesofsuffering,theMarionette,whoafterallhadaverykindheart,

wasmovedtocompassion.Heturnedtowardthepooranimalandsaidtohim:“ButifIhelpyou,willyoupromisenottobothermeagainbyrunningafter

me?”“Ipromise!Ipromise!Onlyhurry,forifyouwaitanothersecond,I’llbedead

andgone!”Pinocchio hesitated still anotherminute. Then, remembering how his father

had often told him that a kind deed is never lost, he swam to Alidoro and,catchingholdofhistail,draggedhimtotheshore.ThepoorDogwassoweakhecouldnot stand.Hehadswallowedsomuch

saltwaterthathewasswollenlikeaballoon.However,Pinocchio,notwishingtotrusthimtoomuch,threwhimselfonceagainintothesea.Asheswamaway,hecalledout:

“Good-by,Alidoro,goodluckandremembermetothefamily!”“Good-by,littlePinocchio,”answeredtheDog.“Athousandthanksforhaving

savedmefromdeath.Youdidmeagoodturn,and,inthisworld,whatisgivenisalwaysreturned.Ifthechancecomes,Ishallbethere.”Pinocchio went on swimming close to shore. At last he thought he had

reachedasafeplace.Glancingupanddownthebeach,hesawtheopeningofacaveoutofwhichroseaspiralofsmoke.“Inthatcave,”hesaidtohimself,“theremustbeafire.Somuchthebetter.I’ll

drymyclothesandwarmmyself,andthen—well—”Hismindmadeup,Pinocchioswamtotherocks,butashestartedtoclimb,he

felt somethingunderhim liftinghimuphigherandhigher.He tried toescape,buthewastoolate.Tohisgreatsurprise,hefoundhimselfinahugenet,amidacrowd of fish of all kinds and sizes, who were fighting and strugglingdesperatelytofreethemselves.Atthesametime,hesawaFishermancomeoutofthecave,aFishermanso

uglythatPinocchiothoughthewasaseamonster.Inplaceofhair,hisheadwascoveredbya thickbushofgreengrass.Greenwas theskinofhisbody,greenwerehiseyes,greenwasthelong,longbeardthatreacheddowntohisfeet.Helookedlikeagiantlizardwithlegsandarms.WhentheFishermanpulledthenetoutofthesea,hecriedoutjoyfully:“BlessedProvidence!OncemoreI’llhaveafinemealoffish!”“ThankHeaven,I’mnotafish!”saidPinocchiotohimself,tryingwiththese

wordstofindalittlecourage.TheFishermantook thenetand thefish to thecave,adark,gloomy,smoky

place.Inthemiddleofit,apanfullofoilsizzledoverasmokyfire,sendingoutarepellingodoroftallowthattookawayone’sbreath.“Now, let’s see what kind of fish we have caught today,” said the Green

Fisherman.Heputahandasbigasaspadeintothenetandpulledoutahandfulofmullets.“Finemullets, these!”hesaid,after lookingat themandsmelling themwith

pleasure.Afterthat,hethrewthemintoalarge,emptytub.Many timeshe repeated thisperformance.Ashepulledeach fishoutof the

net,hismouthwateredwiththethoughtofthegooddinnercoming,andhesaid:“Finefish,thesebass!”“Verytasty,thesewhitefish!”

“Deliciousflounders,these!”“Whatsplendidcrabs!”“Andthesedearlittleanchovies,withtheirheadsstillon!”Asyoucanwellimagine,thebass,theflounders,thewhitefish,andeventhe

littleanchoviesallwenttogetherintothetubtokeepthemulletscompany.ThelasttocomeoutofthenetwasPinocchio.As soon as theFishermanpulledhimout, his green eyesopenedwidewith

surprise,andhecriedoutinfear:“Whatkindoffishisthis?Idon’trememberevereatinganythinglikeit.”Helookedathimcloselyandafterturninghimoverandover,hesaidatlast:“Iunderstand.Hemustbeacrab!”Pinocchio,mortifiedatbeingtakenforacrab,saidresentfully:“Whatnonsense!Acrab indeed! I amno such thing.Bewarehowyoudeal

withme!IamaMarionette,Iwantyoutoknow.”“AMarionette?”askedtheFisherman.“ImustadmitthataMarionettefishis,

forme,anentirelynewkindoffish.Somuchthebetter.I’lleatyouwithgreaterrelish.”“Eatme?Butcan’tyouunderstandthatI’mnotafish?Can’tyouhearthatI

speakandthinkasyoudo?”“It’strue,”answeredtheFisherman;“butsinceIseethatyouareafish,well

abletotalkandthinkasIdo,I’lltreatyouwithallduerespect.”“Andthatis—”“That, as a signofmyparticular esteem, I’ll leave toyou the choiceof the

mannerinwhichyouaretobecooked.Doyouwishtobefriedinapan,ordoyouprefertobecookedwithtomatosauce?”“Totellyouthetruth,”answeredPinocchio,“ifImustchoose,Ishouldmuch

rathergofreesoImayreturnhome!”“Areyou fooling?Doyou think that Iwant to lose theopportunity to taste

suchararefish?AMarionettefishdoesnotcomeveryoftentotheseseas.Leaveittome.I’llfryyouinthepanwiththeothers.Iknowyou’lllikeit.It’salwaysacomforttofindoneselfingoodcompany.”The unluckyMarionette, hearing this, began to cry andwail and beg.With

tearsstreamingdownhischeeks,hesaid:“Howmuchbetteritwouldhavebeenformetogotoschool!Ididlistento

myplaymatesandnowIampayingforit!Oh!Oh!Oh!”

Andashestruggledandsquirmedlikeaneeltoescapefromhim,theGreenFishermantookastoutcordandtiedhimhandandfoot,andthrewhimintothebottomofthetubwiththeothers.Thenhepulledawoodenbowlfullofflouroutofacupboardandstartedto

rollthefishintoit,onebyone.Whentheywerewhitewithit,hethrewthemintothepan.Thefirsttodanceinthehotoilwerethemullets,thebassfollowed,thenthe whitefish, the flounders, and the anchovies. Pinocchio’s turn came last.Seeinghimselfsoneartodeath(andsuchahorribledeath!)hebegantotremblesowithfrightthathehadnovoiceleftwithwhichtobegforhislife.The poor boy beseeched onlywith his eyes. But theGreen Fisherman, not

even noticing that it was he, turned him over and over in the flour until helookedlikeaMarionettemadeofchalk.Thenhetookhimbytheheadand...

CHAPTER29

Pinocchio returns to the Fairy’s house and she promises him that, on themorrow,hewillceasetobeaMarionetteandbecomeaboy.Awonderfulpartyofcoffee-and-milktocelebratethegreatevent.Mindful of what the Fisherman had said, Pinocchio knew that all hope of

beingsavedhadgone.Heclosedhiseyesandwaitedforthefinalmoment.Suddenly,alargeDog,attractedbytheodoroftheboilingoil,camerunning

intothecave.“Get out!” cried the Fisherman threateningly and still holding onto the

Marionette,whowasallcoveredwithflour.ButthepoorDogwasveryhungry,andwhiningandwagginghistail,hetried

tosay:“GivemeabiteofthefishandI’llgoinpeace.”“Getout,Isay!”repeatedtheFisherman.AndhedrewbackhisfoottogivetheDogakick.Then theDog,who, being reallyhungry,would takeno refusal, turned in a

rage toward theFishermanandbaredhis terriblefangs.Andat thatmoment,apitifullittlevoicewasheardsaying:“Saveme,Alidoro;ifyoudon’t,Ifry!”TheDogimmediatelyrecognizedPinocchio’svoice.Greatwashissurpriseto

findthatthevoicecamefromthelittleflour-coveredbundlethattheFishermanheldinhishand.Thenwhatdidhedo?Withonegreatleap,hegraspedthatbundleinhismouth

and,holding it lightlybetweenhis teeth, ran through thedooranddisappearedlikeaflash!TheFisherman, angry at seeing hismeal snatched fromunder his nose, ran

aftertheDog,butabadfitofcoughingmadehimstopandturnback.Meanwhile, Alidoro, as soon as he had found the road which led to the

village,stoppedanddroppedPinocchiosoftlytotheground.“HowmuchIdothankyou!”saidtheMarionette.“It is not necessary,” answered theDog. “You savedme once, andwhat is

givenisalwaysreturned.Weareinthisworldtohelponeanother.”“Buthowdidyougetinthatcave?”

“Iwaslyinghereonthesandmoredeadthanalive,whenanappetizingodoroffriedfishcametome.ThatodortickledmyhungerandIfollowedit.Oh,ifIhadcomeamomentlater!”“Don’t speakabout it,”wailedPinocchio, still tremblingwith fright. “Don’t

say a word. If you had come a moment later, I would be fried, eaten, anddigestedbythistime.Brrrrrr!Ishiveratthemerethoughtofit.”AlidorolaughinglyheldouthispawtotheMarionette,whoshookitheartily,

feeling that nowhe and theDogweregood friends.Then theybid eachothergood-byandtheDogwenthome.Pinocchio,leftalone,walkedtowardalittlehutnearby,whereanoldmansat

atthedoorsunninghimself,andasked:“Tellme,goodman,haveyouheardanythingofapoorboywithawounded

head,whosenamewasEugene?”“Theboywasbroughttothishutandnow—”“Nowheisdead?”Pinocchiointerruptedsorrowfully.“No,heisnowaliveandhehasalreadyreturnedhome.”“Really?Really?”cried theMarionette, jumpingaroundwith joy.“Then the

woundwasnotserious?”“But it might have been—and evenmortal,” answered the oldman, “for a

heavybookwasthrownathishead.”“Andwhothrewit?”“Aschoolmateofhis,acertainPinocchio.”“AndwhoisthisPinocchio?”askedtheMarionette,feigningignorance.“Theysayheisamischief-maker,atramp,astreeturchin—”“Calumnies!Allcalumnies!”“DoyouknowthisPinocchio?”“Bysight!”answeredtheMarionette.“Andwhatdoyouthinkofhim?”askedtheoldman.“Ithinkhe’saverygoodboy,fondofstudy,obedient,kindtohisFather,and

tohiswholefamily—”Ashewastellingalltheseenormousliesabouthimself,Pinocchiotouchedhis

noseandfoundittwiceaslongasitshouldbe.Scaredoutofhiswits,hecriedout:“Don’t listen tome,goodman!All thewonderful thingsIhavesaidarenot

trueatall.IknowPinocchiowellandheisindeedaverywickedfellow,lazyanddisobedient,who instead of going to school, runs awaywith his playmates tohaveagoodtime.”Atthisspeech,hisnosereturnedtoitsnaturalsize.“Whyareyousopale?”theoldmanaskedsuddenly.“Letmetellyou.Withoutknowingit,Irubbedmyselfagainstanewlypainted

wall,”helied,ashamedtosaythathehadbeenmadereadyforthefryingpan.“Whathaveyoudonewithyourcoatandyourhatandyourbreeches?”“Imet thieves and they robbedme. Tell me, my goodman, have you not,

perhaps,alittlesuittogiveme,sothatImaygohome?”“Myboy,asforclothes,IhaveonlyabaginwhichIkeephops.Ifyouwantit,

takeit.Thereitis.”Pinocchiodidnotwait forhim to repeathiswords.He took thebag,which

happenedtobeempty,andaftercuttingabigholeatthetopandtwoatthesides,he slipped into it as if it were a shirt. Lightly clad as he was, he started outtowardthevillage.Along thewayhe felt veryuneasy. In fact hewas sounhappy that hewent

alongtakingtwostepsforwardandoneback,andashewenthesaidtohimself:“HowshallIeverfacemygoodlittleFairy?Whatwillshesaywhenshesees

me?Will she forgive this last trickofmine? Iamsure shewon’t.Oh,no, shewon’t.And Ideserve it, asusual!For I ama rascal, fineonpromiseswhich Ineverkeep!”Hecametothevillagelateatnight.Itwassodarkhecouldseenothingandit

wasrainingpitchforks.Pinocchiowentstraight to theFairy’shouse, firmlyresolvedtoknockat the

door.When he found himself there, he lost courage and ran back a few steps.A

secondtimehecametothedoorandagainheranback.Athirdtimeherepeatedhis performance. The fourth time, before he had time to lose his courage, hegraspedtheknockerandmadeafaintsoundwithit.Hewaited andwaited andwaited.Finally, after a full half hour, a top-floor

window (the house had four stories) opened and Pinocchio saw a large Snaillookout.Atinylightglowedontopofherhead.“Whoknocksatthislatehour?”shecalled.“IstheFairyhome?”askedtheMarionette.

“TheFairyisasleepanddoesnotwishtobedisturbed.Whoareyou?”“ItisI.”“Who’sI?”“Pinocchio.”“WhoisPinocchio?”“TheMarionette;theonewholivesintheFairy’shouse.”“Oh,Iunderstand,”saidtheSnail.“Waitformethere.I’llcomedowntoopen

thedoorforyou.”“Hurry,Ibegofyou,forIamdyingofcold.”“Myboy,Iamasnailandsnailsareneverinahurry.”Anhourpassed,twohours;andthedoorwasstillclosed.Pinocchio,whowas

trembling with fear and shivering from the cold rain on his back, knocked asecondtime,thistimelouderthanbefore.Atthatsecondknock,awindowonthethirdflooropenedandthesameSnail

lookedout.“DearlittleSnail,”criedPinocchiofromthestreet.“Ihavebeenwaitingtwo

hours foryou!And twohoursonadreadfulnight like this are as longas twoyears.Hurry,please!”“Myboy,”answeredtheSnailinacalm,peacefulvoice,“mydearboy,Iama

snailandsnailsareneverinahurry.”Andthewindowclosed.Afewminuteslatermidnightstruck;thenoneo’clock—twoo’clock.Andthe

doorstillremainedclosed!Then Pinocchio, losing all patience, grabbed the knocker with both hands,

fully determined to awaken thewhole house and streetwith it.As soon as hetouched the knocker, however, it became an eel and wiggled away into thedarkness.“Really?”criedPinocchio,blindwithrage.“Iftheknockerisgone,Icanstill

usemyfeet.”Hesteppedbackandgavethedooramostsolemnkick.Hekickedsohardthat

hisfootwentstraightthroughthedoorandhislegfollowedalmosttotheknee.Nomatterhowhepulledandtugged,hecouldnotpullitout.Therehestayedasifnailedtothedoor.PoorPinocchio!Therestofthenighthehadtospendwithonefootthrough

thedoorandtheotheroneintheair.Asdawnwasbreaking,thedoorfinallyopened.Thatbravelittleanimal,the

Snail,hadtakenexactlyninehourstogofromthefourthfloortothestreet.Howshemusthaveraced!“What are you doing with your foot through the door?” she asked the

Marionette,laughing.“Itwas amisfortune.Won’t you try, pretty littleSnail, to freeme from this

terribletorture?”“Myboy,weneedacarpenterhereandIhaveneverbeenone.”“AsktheFairytohelpme!”“TheFairyisasleepanddoesnotwanttobedisturbed.”“Butwhatdoyouwantmetodo,nailedtothedoorlikethis?”“Enjoyyourselfcountingtheantswhicharepassingby.”“Bringmesomethingtoeat,atleast,forIamfaintwithhunger.”“Immediately!”Infact,afterthreehoursandahalf,Pinocchiosawherreturnwithasilvertray

onherhead.Onthetraytherewasbread,roastchicken,fruit.“HereisthebreakfasttheFairysendstoyou,”saidtheSnail.Atthesightofallthesegoodthings,theMarionettefeltmuchbetter.Whatwashisdisgust,however,whenontastingthefood,hefoundthebread

tobemadeofchalk,thechickenofcardboard,andthebrilliantfruitofcoloredalabaster!Hewantedtocry,hewantedtogivehimselfuptodespair,hewantedtothrow

awaythetrayandallthatwasonit.Instead,eitherfrompainorweakness,hefelltothefloorinadeadfaint.Whenheregainedhissenses,hefoundhimselfstretchedoutonasofaandthe

Fairywasseatednearhim.“ThistimealsoIforgiveyou,”saidtheFairytohim.“Butbecarefulnottoget

intomischiefagain.”Pinocchiopromisedtostudyandtobehavehimself.Andhekepthiswordfor

theremainderoftheyear.Attheendofit,hepassedfirstinallhisexaminations,andhisreportwassogoodthattheFairysaidtohimhappily:“Tomorrowyourwishwillcometrue.”“Andwhatisit?”“TomorrowyouwillceasetobeaMarionetteandwillbecomearealboy.”Pinocchiowasbesidehimselfwithjoy.Allhisfriendsandschoolmatesmust

be invited to celebrate the great event! The Fairy promised to prepare twohundred cups of coffee-and-milk and four hundred slices of toast buttered onbothsides.Thedaypromisedtobeaverygayandhappyone,but—Unluckily, in aMarionette’s life there’s alwaysaBUTwhich is apt to spoil

everything.

CHAPTER30

Pinocchio,insteadofbecomingaboy,runsawaytotheLandofToyswithhisfriend,Lamp-Wick.Coming at last out of the surprise intowhich theFairy’swords had thrown

him,Pinocchioaskedforpermissiontogiveouttheinvitations.“Indeed,youmayinviteyourfriendstotomorrow’sparty.Onlyrememberto

returnhomebeforedark.Doyouunderstand?”“I’llbebackinonehourwithoutfail,”answeredtheMarionette.“Take care, Pinocchio! Boys give promises very easily, but they as easily

forgetthem.”“ButIamnotlikethoseothers.WhenIgivemywordIkeepit.”“We shall see. In case you do disobey, you will be the one to suffer, not

anyoneelse.”“Why?”“Becauseboyswhodonotlistentotheireldersalwayscometogrief.”“Icertainlyhave,”saidPinocchio,“butfromnowon,Iobey.”“Weshallseeifyouaretellingthetruth.”Without adding anotherword, theMarionette bade the goodFairy good-by,

andsinginganddancing,heleftthehouse.In a little more than an hour, all his friends were invited. Some accepted

quicklyandgladly.Othershadtobecoaxed,butwhentheyheardthatthetoastwastobebutteredonbothsides,theyallendedbyacceptingtheinvitationwiththewords,“We’llcometopleaseyou.”Nowitmustbeknownthat,amongallhisfriends,Pinocchiohadonewhom

helovedmostofall.Theboy’srealnamewasRomeo,buteveryonecalledhimLamp-Wick,forhewaslongandthinandhadawoebegonelookabouthim.Lamp-Wickwasthelaziestboyintheschoolandthebiggestmischief-maker,

butPinocchiolovedhimdearly.Thatday,hewentstraighttohisfriend’shousetoinvitehimtotheparty,but

Lamp-Wickwasnotathome.Hewentasecondtime,andagainathird,butstillwithoutsuccess.

Wherecouldhebe?Pinocchiosearchedhereandthereandeverywhere,andfinallydiscoveredhimhidingnearafarmer’swagon.“Whatareyoudoingthere?”askedPinocchio,runninguptohim.“Iamwaitingformidnighttostriketogo—”“Where?”“Far,faraway!”“AndIhavegonetoyourhousethreetimestolookforyou!”“Whatdidyouwantfromme?”“Haven’tyouheardthenews?Don’tyouknowwhatgoodluckismine?”“Whatisit?”“TomorrowIendmydaysasaMarionetteandbecomeaboy,likeyouandall

myotherfriends.”“Mayitbringyouluck!”“ShallIseeyouatmypartytomorrow?”“ButI’mtellingyouthatIgotonight.”“Atwhattime?”“Atmidnight.”“Andwhereareyougoing?”“Toarealcountry—thebestintheworld—awonderfulplace!”“Whatisitcalled?”“ItiscalledtheLandofToys.Whydon’tyoucome,too?”“I?Oh,no!”“You aremaking a bigmistake, Pinocchio.Believeme, if you don’t come,

you’llbesorry.Wherecanyoufindaplacethatwillagreebetterwithyouandme?No schools, no teachers, nobooks! In that blessedplace there is no suchthingasstudy.Here,itisonlyonSaturdaysthatwehavenoschool.IntheLandofToys,everyday,exceptSunday,isaSaturday.VacationbeginsonthefirstofJanuary and ends on the last day of December. That is the place forme!Allcountriesshouldbelikeit!Howhappyweshouldallbe!”“ButhowdoesonespendthedayintheLandofToys?”“Daysarespentinplayandenjoymentfrommorntillnight.Atnightonegoes

to bed, and nextmorning, the good times begin all over again.What do youthinkofit?”“H’m—!”saidPinocchio,noddinghiswoodenhead,asiftosay,“It’sthekind

oflifewhichwouldagreewithmeperfectly.”“Doyouwanttogowithme,then?Yesorno?Youmustmakeupyourmind.”“No,no,andagainno!IhavepromisedmykindFairytobecomeagoodboy,

andIwant tokeepmyword.Justsee:ThesunissettingandImust leaveyouandrun.Good-byandgoodlucktoyou!”“Whereareyougoinginsuchahurry?”“Home.MygoodFairywantsmetoreturnhomebeforenight.”“Waittwominutesmore.”“It’stoolate!”“Onlytwominutes.”“AndiftheFairyscoldsme?”“Letherscold.Aftershegetstired,shewillstop,”saidLamp-Wick.“Areyougoingaloneorwithothers?”“Alone?Therewillbemorethanahundredofus!”“Willyouwalk?”“Atmidnightthewagonpassesherethatistotakeuswithintheboundariesof

thatmarvelouscountry.”“HowIwishmidnightwouldstrike!”“Why?”“Toseeyouallsetouttogether.”“Stayhereawhilelongerandyouwillseeus!”“No,no.Iwanttoreturnhome.”“Waittwomoreminutes.”“Ihavewaitedtoolongasitis.TheFairywillbeworried.”“PoorFairy!Issheafraidthebatswilleatyouup?”“Listen,Lamp-Wick,”saidtheMarionette,“areyoureallysurethatthereare

noschoolsintheLandofToys?”“Noteventheshadowofone.”“Notevenoneteacher?”“Notone.”“Andonedoesnothavetostudy?”“Never,never,never!”“What a great land!” said Pinocchio, feeling his mouth water. “What a

beautifulland!Ihaveneverbeenthere,butIcanwellimagineit.”

“Whydon’tyoucome,too?”“It is useless for you to temptme! I told you I promisedmygoodFairy to

behavemyself,andIamgoingtokeepmyword.”“Good-by, then, and remember me to the grammar schools, to the high

schools,andeventothecollegesifyoumeetthemontheway.”“Good-by, Lamp-Wick.Have a pleasant trip, enjoy yourself, and remember

yourfriendsonceinawhile.”Withthesewords,theMarionettestartedonhiswayhome.Turningoncemore

tohisfriend,heaskedhim:“But are you sure that, in that country, each week is composed of six

SaturdaysandoneSunday?”“Verysure!”“AndthatvacationbeginsonthefirstofJanuaryandendsonthethirty-firstof

December?”“Very,verysure!”“Whatagreatcountry!”repeatedPinocchio,puzzledastowhattodo.Then,insuddendetermination,hesaidhurriedly:“Good-byforthelasttime,andgoodluck.”“Good-by.”“Howsoonwillyougo?”“Withintwohours.”“Whatapity!Ifitwereonlyonehour,Imightwaitforyou.”“AndtheFairy?”“BythistimeI’mlate,andonehourmoreorlessmakesverylittledifference.”“PoorPinocchio!AndiftheFairyscoldsyou?”“Oh,I’llletherscold.Aftershegetstired,shewillstop.”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 littlebell,andfaintandmuffledlikethebuzzofafar-awaymosquito.“Thereitis!”criedLamp-Wick,jumpingtohisfeet.“What?”whisperedPinocchio.“Thewagonwhichiscomingtogetme.Forthelasttime,areyoucomingor

not?”

“Butisitreallytruethatinthatcountryboysneverhavetostudy?”“Never,never,never!”“Whatawonderful,beautiful,marvelouscountry!Oh—h—h!!”

CHAPTER31

Afterfivemonthsofplay,Pinocchiowakesuponefinemorningandfindsagreatsurpriseawaitinghim.Finally thewagonarrived.Itmadenonoise,for itswheelswereboundwith

strawandrags.It was drawn by twelve pair of donkeys, all of the same size, but all of

differentcolor.Someweregray,otherswhite,andstillothersamixtureofbrownandblack.Hereandtherewereafewwithlargeyellowandbluestripes.Thestrangestthingofallwasthatthosetwenty-fourdonkeys,insteadofbeing

iron-shodlikeanyotherbeastofburden,hadontheirfeetlacedshoesmadeofleather,justliketheonesboyswear.Andthedriverofthewagon?Imagine toyourselvesa little, fatman,muchwider thanhewas long, round

andshinyasaballofbutter,witha facebeaming likeanapple,a littlemouththatalwayssmiled,andavoicesmallandwheedlinglike thatofacatbeggingforfood.No sooner did any boy see him than he fell in lovewith him, and nothing

satisfiedhimbuttobeallowedtorideinhiswagontothatlovelyplacecalledtheLandofToys.Infact thewagonwassocloselypackedwithboysofallagesthat it looked

likeaboxofsardines.Theywereuncomfortable,theywerepiledoneontopoftheother, theycouldhardlybreathe;yetnotonewordofcomplaintwasheard.Thethoughtthatinafewhourstheywouldreachacountrywheretherewerenoschools,nobooks,noteachers,madetheseboyssohappythattheyfeltneitherhunger,northirst,norsleep,nordiscomfort.NosoonerhadthewagonstoppedthanthelittlefatmanturnedtoLamp-Wick.

Withbowsandsmiles,heaskedinawheedlingtone:“Tellme,myfineboy,doyoualsowanttocometomywonderfulcountry?”“IndeedIdo.”“ButIwarnyou,mylittledear,there’snomoreroominthewagon.Itisfull.”“Nevermind,”answeredLamp-Wick.“Ifthere’snoroominside,Icansiton

thetopofthecoach.”

Andwithoneleap,heperchedhimselfthere.“What about you, my love?” asked the Little Man, turning politely to

Pinocchio.“Whatareyougoingtodo?Willyoucomewithus,ordoyoustayhere?”“Istayhere,”answeredPinocchio.“Iwanttoreturnhome,asIprefertostudy

andtosucceedinlife.”“Maythatbringyouluck!”“Pinocchio!”Lamp-Wickcalledout.“Listen tome.Comewithusandwe’ll

alwaysbehappy.”“No,no,no!”“Comewithusandwe’llalwaysbehappy,”criedfourothervoicesfromthe

wagon.“Come with us and we’ll always be happy,” shouted the one hundred and

moreboysinthewagon,alltogether.“AndifIgowithyou,whatwillmygoodFairysay?”asked theMarionette,whowasbeginning towaverandweaken inhisgoodresolutions.“Don’tworrysomuch.Onlythinkthatwearegoingtoalandwhereweshall

beallowedtomakealltheracketwelikefrommorningtillnight.”Pinocchio did not answer, but sighed deeply once—twice—a third time.

Finally,hesaid:“Makeroomforme.Iwanttogo,too!”“The seats are all filled,” answered the LittleMan, “but to show you how

muchIthinkofyou,takemyplaceascoachman.”“Andyou?”“I’llwalk.”“No,indeed.Icouldnotpermitsuchathing.Imuchpreferridingoneofthese

donkeys,”criedPinocchio.Nosoonersaidthandone.Heapproachedthefirstdonkeyandtriedtomount

it.ButthelittleanimalturnedsuddenlyandgavehimsuchaterriblekickinthestomachthatPinocchiowasthrowntothegroundandfellwithhislegsintheair.Atthisunlooked-forentertainment,thewholecompanyofrunawayslaughed

uproariously.Thelittlefatmandidnotlaugh.Hewentuptotherebelliousanimal,and,still

smiling,bentoverhimlovinglyandbitoffhalfofhisrightear.In themeantime,Pinocchio liftedhimselfupfromtheground,andwithone

leaplandedonthedonkey’sback.Theleapwassowelltakenthatall theboysshouted,“HurrahforPinocchio!”andclappedtheirhandsinheartyapplause.Suddenly the little donkey gave a kick with his two hind feet and, at this

unexpectedmove,thepoorMarionettefoundhimselfonceagainsprawlingrightinthemiddleoftheroad.Againtheboysshoutedwithlaughter.ButtheLittleMan,insteadoflaughing,

becamesolovingtowardthelittleanimalthat,withanotherkiss,hebitoffhalfofhisleftear.“Youcanmountnow,myboy,”hethensaidtoPinocchio.“Havenofear.That

donkey was worried about something, but I have spoken to him and now heseemsquietandreasonable.”Pinocchio mounted and the wagon started on its way. While the donkeys

gallopedalongthestonyroad,theMarionettefanciedheheardaveryquietvoicewhisperingtohim:“Poorsilly!Youhavedoneasyouwished.Butyouaregoingtobeasorryboy

beforeverylong.”Pinocchio,greatlyfrightened,lookedabouthimtoseewhencethewordshad

come,buthesawnoone.Thedonkeysgalloped,thewagonrolledonsmoothly,theboysslept(Lamp-Wicksnoredlikeadormouse)andthelittle,fatdriversangsleepilybetweenhisteeth.After amile or so, Pinocchio again heard the same faint voicewhispering:

“Remember,littlesimpleton!Boyswhostopstudyingandturntheirbacksuponbooksandschoolsand teachers inorder togiveall their time tononsenseandpleasure, sooneror latercome togrief.Oh,howwell Iknowthis!Howwell Icanproveittoyou!Adaywillcomewhenyouwillweepbitterly,evenasIamweepingnow—butitwillbetoolate!”Atthesewhisperedwords,theMarionettegrewmoreandmorefrightened.He

jumpedtotheground,ranuptothedonkeyonwhosebackhehadbeenriding,andtakinghisnoseinhishands,lookedathim.Thinkhowgreatwashissurprisewhenhesawthatthedonkeywasweeping—weepingjustlikeaboy!“Hey,Mr.Driver!”criedtheMarionette.“Doyouknowwhatstrangethingis

happeninghere!Thisdonkeyweeps.”“Lethimweep.Whenhegetsmarried,hewillhavetimetolaugh.”“Haveyouperhapstaughthimtospeak?”“No,helearnedtomumbleafewwordswhenhelivedforthreeyearswitha

bandoftraineddogs.”“Poorbeast!”“Come,come,”saidtheLittleMan,“donotlosetimeoveradonkeythatcan

weep.Mountquicklyandletusgo.Thenightiscoolandtheroadislong.”Pinocchio obeyed without another word. The wagon started again. Toward

dawn the nextmorning they finally reached thatmuch-longed-for country, theLandofToys.Thisgreat landwas entirelydifferent fromanyotherplace in theworld. Its

population,largethoughitwas,wascomposedwhollyofboys.Theoldestwereaboutfourteenyearsofage,theyoungest,eight.Inthestreet, therewassucharacket, such shouting, such blowing of trumpets, that it was deafening.Everywheregroupsofboysweregatheredtogether.Someplayedatmarbles,athopscotch,atball.Othersrodeonbicyclesoronwoodenhorses.Someplayedatblindman’s buff, others at tag.Here a group played circus, there another sangandrecited.Afew turnedsomersaults,otherswalkedon theirhandswith theirfeetintheair.Generalsinfulluniformleadingregimentsofcardboardsoldierspassed by. Laughter, shrieks, howls, catcalls, hand-clapping followed thisparade. One boy made a noise like a hen, another like a rooster, and a thirdimitatedalioninhisden.Alltogethertheycreatedsuchapandemoniumthatitwouldhavebeennecessaryforyoutoputcottoninyourears.Thesquareswerefilled with small wooden theaters, overflowing with boys from morning tillnight, and on thewalls of the houses, writtenwith charcoal, werewords likethese:HURRAHFORTHELANDOFTOYS!DOWNWITHARITHMETIC!NOMORESCHOOL!Assoonastheyhadsetfootinthatland,Pinocchio,Lamp-Wick,andallthe

other boyswho had traveledwith them started out on a tour of investigation.Theywanderedeverywhere,theylookedintoeverynookandcorner,houseandtheater.Theybecameeverybody’sfriend.Whocouldbehappierthanthey?Whatwithentertainmentsandparties, thehours, thedays, theweekspassed

likelightning.“Oh,whatabeautiful life this is!”saidPinocchioeachtimethat,bychance,

hemethisfriendLamp-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 toreturnhometoseeyourFairyandtostartstudyingagain!Iftodayyouarefreefrompencilsandbooksandschool,youoweittome,tomyadvice,tomycare.Doyouadmitit?Onlytruefriendscount,afterall.”

“It’s true, Lamp-Wick, it’s true. If today I am a really happy boy, it is allbecauseofyou.Andtothinkthattheteacher,whenspeakingofyou,usedtosay,‘DonotgowiththatLamp-Wick!Heisabadcompanionandsomedayhewillleadyouastray.’”“Poor teacher!” answered the other, nodding his head. “Indeed I knowhow

much he dislikedme and how he enjoyed speaking ill of me. But I am of agenerousnature,andIgladlyforgivehim.”“Greatsoul!”saidPinocchio,fondlyembracinghisfriend.Fivemonthspassedandtheboyscontinuedplayingandenjoyingthemselves

frommorntillnight,withouteverseeingabook,oradesk,oraschool.But,mychildren, there came a morning when Pinocchio awoke and found a greatsurprise awaiting him, a surprise which made him feel very unhappy, as youshallsee.

CHAPTER32

Pinocchio’searsbecomelikethoseofaDonkey.InalittlewhilehechangesintoarealDonkeyandbeginstobray.Everyone,atone timeoranother,hasfoundsomesurpriseawaitinghim.Of

thekindwhichPinocchiohadonthateventfulmorningofhislife,therearebutfew.Whatwasit?Iwilltellyou,mydearlittlereaders.Onawakening,Pinocchio

puthishanduptohisheadandtherehefound—Guess!Hefoundthat,duringthenight,hisearshadgrownatleasttenfullinches!YoumustknowthattheMarionette,evenfromhisbirth,hadverysmallears,

sosmallindeedthattothenakedeyetheycouldhardlybeseen.Fancyhowhefeltwhenhenoticedthatovernightthosetwodaintyorganshadbecomeaslongasshoebrushes!Hewentinsearchofamirror,butnotfindingany,hejustfilledabasinwith

waterandlookedathimself.Therehesawwhathenevercouldhavewishedtosee.Hismanlyfigurewasadornedandenrichedbyabeautifulpairofdonkey’sears.I leaveyou to thinkof the terriblegrief, the shame, thedespair of thepoor

Marionette.Hebegantocry,toscream,toknockhisheadagainstthewall,butthemorehe

shrieked,thelongerandthemorehairygrewhisears.At those piercing shrieks, a Dormouse came into the room, a fat little

Dormouse,wholivedupstairs.SeeingPinocchiosogrief-stricken,sheaskedhimanxiously:“Whatisthematter,dearlittleneighbor?”“I amsick,my littleDormouse,very,very sick—and froman illnesswhich

frightensme!Doyouunderstandhowtofeelthepulse?”“Alittle.”“FeelminethenandtellmeifIhaveafever.”The Dormouse took Pinocchio’s wrist between her paws and, after a few

minutes, lookedup at him sorrowfully and said: “My friend, I am sorry, but I

mustgiveyousomeverysadnews.”“Whatisit?”“Youhaveaverybadfever.”“Butwhatfeverisit?”“Thedonkeyfever.”“Idon’tknowanythingaboutthatfever,”answeredtheMarionette,beginning

tounderstandeventoowellwhatwashappeningtohim.“ThenIwilltellyouallaboutit,”saidtheDormouse.“Knowthenthat,within

twoorthreehours,youwillnolongerbeaMarionette,noraboy.”“WhatshallIbe?”“Withintwoorthreehoursyouwillbecomearealdonkey,justliketheones

thatpullthefruitcartstomarket.”“Oh,whathaveIdone?WhathaveIdone?”criedPinocchio,graspinghistwo

long ears in his hands and pulling and tugging at themangrily, just as if theybelongedtoanother.“Mydear boy,” answered theDormouse to cheer himup abit, “whyworry

now?Whatisdonecannotbeundone,youknow.Fatehasdecreedthatalllazyboyswhocometohatebooksandschoolsandteachersandspendalltheirdayswithtoysandgamesmustsoonerorlaterturnintodonkeys.”“Butisitreallyso?”askedtheMarionette,sobbingbitterly.“Iamsorrytosayitis.Andtearsnowareuseless.Youshouldhavethoughtof

allthisbefore.”“Butthefaultisnotmine.Believeme,littleDormouse,thefaultisallLamp-

Wick’s.”“AndwhoisthisLamp-Wick?”“A classmate ofmine. Iwanted to return home. Iwanted to be obedient. I

wantedtostudyandtosucceedinschool,butLamp-Wicksaidtome,‘Whydoyouwanttowasteyourtimestudying?Whydoyouwanttogotoschool?ComewithmetotheLandofToys.Therewe’llneverstudyagain.Therewecanenjoyourselvesandbehappyfrommorntillnight.’”“Andwhydidyoufollowtheadviceofthatfalsefriend?”“Why? Because, my dear little Dormouse, I am a heedless Marionette—

heedlessandheartless.Oh!IfIhadonlyhadabitofheart,IshouldneverhaveabandonedthatgoodFairy,wholovedmesowellandwhohasbeensokindtome!Andbythistime,IshouldnolongerbeaMarionette.Ishouldhavebecome

arealboy,likeallthesefriendsofmine!Oh,ifImeetLamp-WickIamgoingtotellhimwhatIthinkofhim—andmore,too!”Afterthislongspeech,Pinocchiowalkedtothedooroftheroom.Butwhenhe

reached it, rememberinghisdonkeyears,he feltashamed toshowthemto thepublic and turnedback.He took a large cottonbag froma shelf, put it onhishead,andpulleditfardowntohisverynose.Thusadorned,hewentout.HelookedforLamp-Wickeverywhere,alongthe

streets, in the squares, inside the theatres, everywhere; but he was not to befound.Heaskedeveryonewhomhemetabouthim,butnoonehadseenhim.Indesperation,hereturnedhomeandknockedatthedoor.“Whoisit?”askedLamp-Wickfromwithin.“ItisI!”answeredtheMarionette.“Waitaminute.”After a full half hour thedooropened.Another surprise awaitedPinocchio!

Thereintheroomstoodhisfriend,withalargecottonbagonhishead,pulledfardowntohisverynose.Atthesightofthatbag,Pinocchiofeltslightlyhappierandthoughttohimself:“Myfriendmustbesufferingfromthesamesickness that Iam!Iwonder if

he,too,hasdonkeyfever?”Butpretendinghehadseennothing,heaskedwithasmile:“Howareyou,mydearLamp-Wick?”“Verywell.LikeamouseinaParmesancheese.”“Isthatreallytrue?”“WhyshouldIlietoyou?”“Ibegyourpardon,myfriend,butwhythenareyouwearingthatcottonbag

overyourears?”“The doctor has ordered it because one of my knees hurts. And you, dear

Marionette,whyareyouwearingthatcottonbagdowntoyournose?”“ThedoctorhasordereditbecauseIhavebruisedmyfoot.”“Oh,mypoorPinocchio!”“Oh,mypoorLamp-Wick!”Anembarrassinglylongsilencefollowedthesewords,duringwhichtimethe

twofriendslookedateachotherinamockingway.FinallytheMarionette,inavoicesweetashoneyandsoftasaflute,saidtohis

companion:“Tellme,Lamp-Wick,dearfriend,haveyoueversufferedfromanearache?”“Never!Andyou?”“Never!Still,sincethismorningmyearhasbeentorturingme.”“Sohasmine.”“Yours,too?Andwhichearisit?”“Bothofthem.Andyours?”“Bothofthem,too.Iwonderifitcouldbethesamesickness.”“I’mafraiditis.”“Willyoudomeafavor,Lamp-Wick?”“Gladly!Withmywholeheart.”“Willyouletmeseeyourears?”“Whynot?ButbeforeIshowyoumine,Iwanttoseeyours,dearPinocchio.”“No.Youmustshowyoursfirst.”“No,mydear!Yoursfirst,thenmine.”“Well,then,”saidtheMarionette,“letusmakeacontract.”“Let’shearthecontract!”“Letustakeoffourcapstogether.Allright?”“Allright.”“Readythen!”Pinocchiobegantocount,“One!Two!Three!”Attheword“Three!”thetwoboyspulledofftheircapsandthrewthemhigh

inair.Andthenascenetookplacewhichishardtobelieve,butitisalltootrue.The

Marionetteandhisfriend,Lamp-Wick,whentheysaweachotherbothstrickenbythesamemisfortune,insteadoffeelingsorrowfulandashamed,begantopokefun at each other, and after much nonsense, they ended by bursting out intoheartylaughter.They laughed and laughed, and laughed again—laughed till they ached—

laughedtilltheycried.ButallofasuddenLamp-Wickstoppedlaughing.Hetotteredandalmostfell.

Paleasaghost,heturnedtoPinocchioandsaid:“Help,help,Pinocchio!”

“Whatisthematter?”“Oh,helpme!Icannolongerstandup.”“I can’t either,” cried Pinocchio; and his laughter turned to tears as he

stumbledabouthelplessly.Theyhadhardly finished speaking,whenbothof them fell on all fours and

beganrunningandjumpingaroundtheroom.Astheyran,theirarmsturnedintolegs, their faces lengthened into snouts and their backs became covered withlonggrayhairs.Thiswashumiliation enough,but themosthorriblemomentwas theone in

which the twopoorcreatures felt their tailsappear.Overcomewithshameandgrief,theytriedtocryandbemoantheirfate.Butwhatisdonecan’tbeundone!Insteadofmoansandcries,theyburstforth

intolouddonkeybrays,whichsoundedverymuchlike,“Haw!Haw!Haw!”Atthatmoment,aloudknockingwasheardatthedoorandavoicecalledto

them:“Open!IamtheLittleMan,thedriverofthewagonwhichbroughtyouhere.

Open,Isay,orbeware!”

CHAPTER33

Pinocchio,havingbecomeaDonkey,isboughtbytheownerofaCircus,whowantstoteachhimtodotricks.TheDonkeybecomeslameandissoldtoamanwhowantstousehisskinforadrumhead.Very sad and downcast were the two poor little fellows as they stood and

looked at each other. Outside the room, the LittleMan grewmore and moreimpatient,andfinallygavethedoorsuchaviolentkickthatitflewopen.Withhis usual sweet smileonhis lips, he looked atPinocchio andLamp-Wick andsaidtothem:“Finework,boys!Youhavebrayedwell,sowellthatIrecognizedyourvoices

immediately,andhereIam.”Onhearingthis,thetwoDonkeysbowedtheirheadsinshame,droppedtheir

ears,andputtheirtailsbetweentheirlegs.At first, the LittleMan petted and caressed them and smoothed down their

hairycoats.Thenhetookoutacurrycombandworkedoverthemtilltheyshonelikeglass.Satisfiedwiththelooksofthetwolittleanimals,hebridledthemandtook them to amarket place far away from the Land of Toys, in the hope ofsellingthematagoodprice.Infact,hedidnothavetowaitverylongforanoffer.Lamp-Wickwasbought

byafarmerwhosedonkeyhaddiedthedaybefore.Pinocchiowenttotheownerofacircus,whowantedtoteachhimtodotricksforhisaudiences.And now do you understand what the Little Man’s profession was? This

horrid little being, whose face shone with kindness, went about the worldlooking for boys.Lazy boys, boyswhohated books, boyswhowanted to runawayfromhome,boyswhoweretiredofschool—allthesewerehisjoyandhisfortune. He took them with him to the Land of Toys and let them enjoythemselvestotheirheart’scontent.When,aftermonthsofallplayandnowork,theybecamelittledonkeys,hesoldthemonthemarketplace.Inafewyears,hehadbecomeamillionaire.WhathappenedtoLamp-Wick?Mydearchildren,Idonotknow.Pinocchio,I

cantellyou,metwithgreathardshipsevenfromthefirstday.Afterputtinghiminastable,hisnewmasterfilledhismangerwithstraw,but

Pinocchio,aftertastingamouthful,spatitout.

Thenthemanfilledthemangerwithhay.ButPinocchiodidnotlikethatanybetter.“Ah,youdon’t likehayeither?”hecriedangrily. “Wait,myprettyDonkey,

I’llteachyounottobesoparticular.”Withoutmoreado,hetookawhipandgavetheDonkeyaheartyblowacross

thelegs.Pinocchioscreamedwithpainandashescreamedhebrayed:“Haw!Haw!Haw!Ican’tdigeststraw!”“Then eat the hay!” answered his master, who understood the Donkey

perfectly.“Haw!Haw!Haw!Haygivesmeaheadache!”“Do you pretend, by any chance, that I should feed you duck or chicken?”

asked theman again, and, angrier than ever, he gave poor Pinocchio anotherlashing.Atthatsecondbeating,Pinocchiobecameveryquietandsaidnomore.Afterthat,thedoorofthestablewasclosedandhewasleftalone.Itwasmany

hours sincehehad eaten anything andhe started to yawn fromhunger.Asheyawned,heopenedamouthasbigasanoven.Finally, not finding anything else in the manger, he tasted the hay. After

tastingit,hecheweditwell,closedhiseyes,andswallowedit.“Thishayisnotbad,”hesaidtohimself.“ButhowmuchhappierIshouldbe

if Ihadstudied! Justnow, insteadofhay, I shouldbeeatingsomegoodbreadandbutter.Patience!”Nextmorning,whenheawoke,Pinocchiolookedinthemangerformorehay,

butitwasallgone.Hehadeatenitallduringthenight.He tried the straw, but, as he chewed away at it, he noticed to his great

disappointmentthatittastedneitherlikericenorlikemacaroni.“Patience!”herepeatedashechewed.“Ifonlymymisfortunemightserveasa

lessontodisobedientboyswhorefusetostudy!Patience!Havepatience!”“Patience indeed!” shouted hismaster just then, as he came into the stable.

“Doyouthink,perhaps,mylittleDonkey,thatIhavebroughtyouhereonlytogiveyoufoodanddrink?Oh,no!Youaretohelpmeearnsomefinegoldpieces,doyouhear?Comealong,now. I amgoing to teachyou to jumpandbow, todanceawaltzandapolka,andeventostandonyourhead.”PoorPinocchio,whether he liked it or not, had to learn all thesewonderful

things; but it took him three longmonths and cost himmany,many lashingsbeforehewaspronouncedperfect.The day came at last when Pinocchio’s master was able to announce an

extraordinaryperformance.Theannouncements,postedallaroundthetown,andwritteninlargeletters,readthus:GREATSPECTACLETONIGHT

LEAPSANDEXERCISESBYTHEGREATARTISTS

ANDTHEFAMOUSHORSES

ofthe

COMPANY

FirstPublicAppearance

ofthe

FAMOUSDONKEY

called

PINOCCHIO

THESTAROFTHEDANCE

——

TheTheaterwillbeasLightasDay

Thatnight,asyoucanwellimagine,thetheaterwasfilledtooverflowingonehourbeforetheshowwasscheduledtostart.Notanorchestrachaircouldbehad,notabalconyseat,noragalleryseat;not

evenfortheirweightingold.Theplace swarmedwithboysandgirlsof all agesand sizes,wrigglingand

dancingaboutinafeverofimpatiencetoseethefamousDonkeydance.Whenthefirstpartoftheperformancewasover,theOwnerandManagerof

the circus, in a black coat, white knee breeches, and patent leather boots,presentedhimselftothepublicandinaloud,pompousvoicemadethefollowingannouncement:“Mosthonoredfriends,GentlemenandLadies!“Your humble servant, theManager of this theater, presents himself before

youtonightinordertointroducetoyouthegreatest,themostfamousDonkeyintheworld,aDonkeythathashadthegreathonorinhisshortlifeofperformingbeforethekingsandqueensandemperorsofallthegreatcourtsofEurope.“Wethankyouforyourattention!”This speechwas greeted bymuch laughter and applause.And the applause

grewtoaroarwhenPinocchio,thefamousDonkey,appearedinthecircusring.Hewas handsomely arrayed. A new bridle of shining leatherwith buckles ofpolished brass was on his back; two white camellias were tied to his ears;

ribbonsandtasselsofredsilkadornedhismane,whichwasdividedintomanycurls.Agreatsashofgoldandsilverwasfastenedaroundhiswaistandhistailwas decorated with ribbons of many brilliant colors. He was a handsomeDonkeyindeed!TheManager,whenintroducinghimtothepublic,addedthesewords:“Mosthonoredaudience!Ishallnottakeyourtimetonighttotellyouofthe

great difficulties which I have encountered while trying to tame this animal,sinceIfoundhiminthewildsofAfrica.Observe,Ibegofyou,thesavagelookof his eye. All the means used by centuries of civilization in subduing wildbeastsfailedinthiscase.Ihadfinallytoresorttothegentlelanguageofthewhipin order to bring him to my will. With all my kindness, however, I neversucceededingainingmyDonkey’slove.HeisstilltodayassavageasthedayIfound him. He still fears and hates me. But I have found in him one greatredeemingfeature.Doyouseethislittlebumponhisforehead?Itisthisbumpwhich gives himhis great talent of dancing and using his feet as nimbly as ahumanbeing.Admirehim,Osignori,andenjoyyourselves. I letyou,now,bethejudgesofmysuccessasateacherofanimals.BeforeIleaveyou,Iwishtostate that there will be another performance tomorrow night. If the weatherthreatens rain, the great spectacle will take place at eleven o’clock in themorning.”The Manager bowed and then turned to Pinocchio and said: “Ready,

Pinocchio!Beforestartingyourperformance,saluteyouraudience!”Pinocchioobedientlybenthistwokneestothegroundandremainedkneeling

untiltheManager,withthecrackofthewhip,criedsharply:“Walk!”TheDonkeyliftedhimselfonhisfourfeetandwalkedaroundthering.Afew

minutespassedandagainthevoiceoftheManagercalled:“Quickstep!”andPinocchioobedientlychangedhisstep.“Gallop!”andPinocchiogalloped.“Full speed!” and Pinocchio ran as fast as he could. As he ran the master

raisedhisarmandapistolshotrangintheair.Attheshot,thelittleDonkeyfelltothegroundasifhewerereallydead.Ashowerof applausegreeted theDonkeyashe arose tohis feet.Cries and

shoutsandhandclappingswereheardonallsides.Atallthatnoise,Pinocchioliftedhisheadandraisedhiseyes.There,infront

ofhim,inaboxsatabeautifulwoman.Aroundhernecksheworealonggoldchain, fromwhich hung a largemedallion. On themedallionwas painted the

pictureofaMarionette.“That picture is ofme!That beautiful lady ismyFairy!” said Pinocchio to

himself,recognizingher.Hefeltsohappythathetriedhisbesttocryout:“Oh,myFairy!MyownFairy!”Butinsteadofwords,aloudbrayingwasheardinthetheater,soloudandso

long that all the spectators—men, women, and children, but especially thechildren—burstoutlaughing.Then, in order to teach the Donkey that it was not good manners to bray

beforethepublic,theManagerhithimonthenosewiththehandleofthewhip.ThepoorlittleDonkeystuckoutalongtongueandlickedhisnoseforalong

timeinanefforttotakeawaythepain.Andwhatwashisgriefwhenonlookinguptowardtheboxes,hesawthatthe

Fairyhaddisappeared!Hefelthimselffainting,hiseyesfilledwithtears,andheweptbitterly.Noone

knewit,however,leastofalltheManager,who,crackinghiswhip,criedout:“Bravo,Pinocchio!Nowshowushowgracefullyyoucan jump through the

rings.”Pinocchio tried twoor three times, but each timehe camenear the ring, he

found itmore to his taste to go under it. The fourth time, at a look from hismasterheleapedthroughit,butashedidsohishindlegscaughtintheringandhefelltothefloorinaheap.Whenhegotup,hewaslameandcouldhardlylimpasfarasthestable.“Pinocchio!WewantPinocchio!Wewant thelittleDonkey!”criedtheboys

fromtheorchestra,saddenedbytheaccident.NoonesawPinocchioagainthatevening.Thenextmorningtheveterinary—thatis,theanimaldoctor—declaredthathe

wouldbelamefortherestofhislife.“What do Iwantwith a lame donkey?” said theManager to the stableboy.

“Takehimtothemarketandsellhim.”Whentheyreachedthesquare,abuyerwassoonfound.“HowmuchdoyouaskforthatlittlelameDonkey?”heasked.“Fourdollars.”“I’llgiveyoufourcents.Don’tthinkI’mbuyinghimforwork.Iwantonlyhis

skin.ItlooksverytoughandIcanuseittomakemyselfadrumhead.IbelongtoamusicalbandinmyvillageandIneedadrum.”

I leave it to you,mydear children, to picture to yourself thegreat pleasurewithwhichPinocchioheardthathewastobecomeadrumhead!Assoonasthebuyerhadpaidthefourcents,theDonkeychangedhands.His

newownertookhimtoahighcliffoverlookingthesea,putastonearoundhisneck,tiedaropetooneofhishindfeet,gavehimapush,andthrewhimintothewater.Pinocchiosankimmediately.Andhisnewmastersatonthecliffwaitingfor

himtodrown,soastoskinhimandmakehimselfadrumhead.

CHAPTER34

Pinocchio is throwninto thesea,eatenbyfishes,andbecomesaMarionetteoncemore.Asheswimstoland,heisswallowedbytheTerribleShark.Downintothesea,deeperanddeeper,sankPinocchio,andfinally,afterfifty

minutesofwaiting,themanonthecliffsaidtohimself:“BythistimemypoorlittlelameDonkeymustbedrowned.Upwithhimand

thenIcangettoworkonmybeautifuldrum.”Hepulled the ropewhichhehad tied toPinocchio’s leg—pulledandpulled

and pulled and, at last, he saw appear on the surface of the water—Can youguesswhat? Instead of a dead donkey, he saw a verymuch aliveMarionette,wrigglingandsquirminglikeaneel.Seeing thatwoodenMarionette, thepoorman thoughthewasdreamingand

sattherewithhismouthwideopenandhiseyespoppingoutofhishead.Gatheringhiswitstogether,hesaid:“AndtheDonkeyIthrewintothesea?”“IamthatDonkey,”answeredtheMarionettelaughing.“You?”“I.”“Ah,youlittlecheat!Areyoupokingfunatme?”“Pokingfunatyou?Notatall,dearMaster.Iamtalkingseriously.”“But,then,howisitthatyou,whoafewminutesagowereadonkey,arenow

standingbeforemeawoodenMarionette?”“Itmaybetheeffectofsaltwater.Theseaisfondofplayingthesetricks.”“Becareful,Marionette, be careful!Don’t laughatme!Woebe toyou, if I

losemypatience!”“Well,then,myMaster,doyouwanttoknowmywholestory?Untiemyleg

andIcantellittoyoubetter.”The old fellow, curious to know the true story of the Marionette’s life,

immediatelyuntiedtheropewhichheldhisfoot.Pinocchio,feelingfreeasabirdoftheair,beganhistale:“Know,then,that,onceuponatime,IwasawoodenMarionette,justasIam

today.OnedayIwasabouttobecomeaboy,arealboy,butonaccountofmylazinessandmyhatredofbooks,andbecauseIlistenedtobadcompanions,Iranawayfromhome.Onebeautifulmorning,Iawoketofindmyselfchangedintoadonkey—longears,graycoat,evenatail!Whatashamefuldayforme!Ihopeyouwill never experienceone like it, dearMaster. Iwas taken to the fair andsoldtoaCircusOwner,whotriedtomakemedanceandjumpthroughtherings.One night, during a performance, I had a bad fall and became lame. Notknowingwhattodowithalamedonkey,theCircusOwnersentmetothemarketplaceandyouboughtme.”“IndeedIdid!AndIpaidfourcentsforyou.Nowwhowillreturnmymoney

tome?”“Butwhydidyoubuyme?Youboughtme todomeharm—tokillme—to

makeadrumheadoutofme!”“IndeedIdid!AndnowwhereshallIfindanotherskin?”“Nevermind,dearMaster.Therearesomanydonkeysinthisworld.”“Tellme,impudentlittlerogue,doesyourstoryendhere?”“Onemoreword,”answeredtheMarionette,“andIamthrough.Afterbuying

me,youbroughtmeheretokillme.Butfeelingsorryforme,youtiedastonetomyneckandthrewmetothebottomofthesea.ThatwasverygoodandkindofyoutowantmetosufferaslittleaspossibleandIshallrememberyoualways.AndnowmyFairywilltakecareofme,evenifyou—”“YourFairy?Whoisshe?”“She ismymother, and, like all othermotherswho love their children, she

never loses sightofme, even though Idonotdeserve it.And today thisgoodFairyofmine, as soonas she sawme indangerofdrowning, sent a thousandfishes to the spot where I lay. They thought I was really a dead donkey andbegantoeatme.Whatgreatbitestheytook!Oneatemyears,anothermynose,athirdmyneckandmymane.Somewentatmylegsandsomeatmyback,andamongtheothers,therewasonetinyfishsogentleandpolitethathedidmethegreatfavorofeatingevenmytail.”“Fromnowon,”saidtheman,horrified,“IswearIshallneveragaintastefish.

HowIshouldenjoyopeningamulletorawhitefishjusttofindtherethetailofadeaddonkey!”“Ithinkasyoudo,”answeredtheMarionette,laughing.“Still,youmustknow

thatwhenthefishfinishedeatingmydonkeycoat,whichcoveredmefromheadtofoot,theynaturallycametothebones—orrather,inmycase,tothewood,for

as you know, I am made of very hard wood. After the first few bites, thosegreedyfishfoundoutthatthewoodwasnotgoodfortheirteeth,and,afraidofindigestion,theyturnedandranhereandtherewithoutsayinggood-byorevenasmuchasthankyoutome.Here,dearMaster,youhavemystory.Youknownowwhyyou foundaMarionetteandnotadeaddonkeywhenyoupulledmeoutofthewater.”“Ilaughatyourstory!”criedthemanangrily.“IknowthatIspentfourcents

togetyouandIwantmymoneyback.DoyouknowwhatIcando;Iamgoingtotakeyoutothemarketoncemoreandsellyouasdryfirewood.”“Verywell,sellme.Iamsatisfied,”saidPinocchio.Butashespoke,hegavea

quickleapanddivedintothesea.Swimmingawayasfastashecould,hecriedout,laughing:“Good-by,Master.Ifyoueverneedaskinforyourdrum,rememberme.”Heswamonandon.Afterawhile,heturnedaroundagainandcalledlouder

thanbefore:“Good-by,Master.Ifyoueverneedapieceofgooddryfirewood,remember

me.”Inafewsecondshehadgonesofarhecouldhardlybeseen.Allthatcouldbe

seenofhimwasaverysmallblackdotmovingswiftlyonthebluesurfaceofthewater,alittleblackdotwhichnowandthenliftedalegoranarmintheair.OnewouldhavethoughtthatPinocchiohadturnedintoaporpoiseplayinginthesun.Afterswimmingforalongtime,Pinocchiosawalargerockinthemiddleof

thesea,arockaswhiteasmarble.HighontherockstoodalittleGoatbleatingandcallingandbeckoningtotheMarionettetocometoher.There was something very strange about that little Goat. Her coat was not

whiteorblackorbrownasthatofanyothergoat,butazure,adeepbrilliantcolorthatremindedoneofthehairofthelovelymaiden.Pinocchio’sheartbeatfast,andthenfasterandfaster.Heredoubledhisefforts

and swamas hard as he could toward thewhite rock.Hewas almost halfwayover,whensuddenlyahorribleseamonsterstuck itsheadoutof thewater,anenormousheadwithahugemouth,wideopen,showingthreerowsofgleamingteeth,themeresightofwhichwouldhavefilledyouwithfear.Doyouknowwhatitwas?ThatseamonsterwasnootherthantheenormousShark,whichhasoftenbeen

mentionedinthisstoryandwhich,onaccountofitscruelty,hadbeennicknamed“TheAttilaoftheSea”bybothfishandfishermen.

PoorPinocchio!Thesightofthatmonsterfrightenedhimalmosttodeath!Hetried toswimaway fromhim, tochangehispath, toescape,but that immensemouthkeptcomingnearerandnearer.“Hasten,Pinocchio,Ibegyou!”bleatedthelittleGoatonthehighrock.AndPinocchioswamdesperatelywithhisarms,hisbody,hislegs,hisfeet.“Quick,Pinocchio,themonsteriscomingnearer!”Pinocchioswamfasterandfaster,andharderandharder.“Faster,Pinocchio!Themonsterwillgetyou!Thereheis!Thereheis!Quick,

quick,oryouarelost!”Pinocchiowent through thewater likeashot—swifterandswifter.Hecame

closetotherock.TheGoatleanedoverandgavehimoneofherhoofstohelphimupoutofthewater.Alas! It was too late. Themonster overtook him and theMarionette found

himself in between the rows of gleaming white teeth. Only for a moment,however,for theSharktookadeepbreathand,ashebreathed,hedrankintheMarionetteaseasilyashewouldhavesuckedanegg.ThenheswallowedhimsofastthatPinocchio,fallingdownintothebodyofthefish,laystunnedforahalfhour.Whenhe recoveredhis senses theMarionettecouldnot rememberwherehe

was.Aroundhimallwasdarkness, adarkness sodeepand soblack that for amomenthe thoughthehadputhishead intoan inkwell.He listened fora fewmomentsandheardnothing.Onceinawhileacoldwindblewonhisface.Atfirsthecouldnotunderstandwherethatwindwascomingfrom,butafterawhileheunderstoodthatitcamefromthelungsofthemonster.Iforgottotellyouthatthe Shark was suffering from asthma, so that whenever he breathed a stormseemedtoblow.Pinocchioatfirsttriedtobebrave,butassoonashebecameconvincedthathe

wasreallyandtrulyintheShark’sstomach,heburstintosobsandtears.“Help!Help!”hecried.“Oh,poorme!Won’tsomeonecometosaveme?”“Whoistheretohelpyou,unhappyboy?”saidaroughvoice,likeaguitarout

oftune.“Whoistalking?”askedPinocchio,frozenwithterror.“It isI,apoorTunnyswallowedbytheSharkat thesametimeasyou.And

whatkindofafishareyou?”“Ihavenothingtodowithfishes.IamaMarionette.”“Ifyouarenotafish,whydidyouletthismonsterswallowyou?”

“Ididn’t lethim.Hechasedmeandswallowedmewithoutevena ‘byyourleave’!Andnowwhatarewetodohereinthedark?”“WaituntiltheSharkhasdigestedusboth,Isuppose.”“ButIdon’twanttobedigested,”shoutedPinocchio,startingtosob.“NeitherdoI,”saidtheTunny,“butIamwiseenoughtothinkthatifoneis

bornafish,itismoredignifiedtodieunderthewaterthaninthefryingpan.”“Whatnonsense!”criedPinocchio.“Mineisanopinion,”repliedtheTunny,“andopinionsshouldberespected.”“ButIwanttogetoutofthisplace.Iwanttoescape.”“Go,ifyoucan!”“IsthisSharkthathasswallowedusverylong?”askedtheMarionette.“Hisbody,notcountingthetail,isalmostamilelong.”While talking in thedarkness,Pinocchio thoughthe sawa faint light in the

distance.“Whatcanthatbe?”hesaidtotheTunny.“Someotherpoorfish,waitingaspatientlyaswetobedigestedbytheShark.”“I want to see him. He may be an old fish and may know some way of

escape.”“Iwishyouallgoodluck,dearMarionette.”“Good-by,Tunny.”“Good-by,Marionette,andgoodluck.”“WhenshallIseeyouagain?”“Whoknows?Itisbetternottothinkaboutit.”

CHAPTER35

In theShark’sbodyPinocchio findswhom?Read this chapter,mychildren,andyouwillknow.Pinocchio, as soon as he had said good-by to his good friend, the Tunny,

totteredawayinthedarknessandbegantowalkaswellashecouldtowardthefaintlightwhichglowedinthedistance.Ashewalkedhisfeetsplashedinapoolofgreasyandslipperywater,which

hadsuchaheavysmelloffishfriedinoilthatPinocchiothoughtitwasLent.Thefartheronhewent,thebrighterandclearergrewthetinylight.Onandon

he walked till finally he found—I give you a thousand guesses, my dearchildren!Hefoundalittletablesetfordinnerandlightedbyacandlestuckinaglassbottle;andnearthetablesatalittleoldman,whiteasthesnow,eatinglivefish.Theywriggledsothat,nowandagain,oneof themslippedoutof theoldman’smouthandescapedintothedarknessunderthetable.At this sight, the poor Marionette was filled with such great and sudden

happiness thathealmostdropped ina faint.Hewanted to laugh,hewanted tocry,hewantedtosayathousandandonethings,butallhecoulddowastostandstill,stutteringandstammeringbrokenly.Atlast,withagreateffort,hewasabletoletoutascreamofjoyand,openingwidehisarmshethrewthemaroundtheoldman’sneck.“Oh,Father,dearFather!HaveIfoundyouatlast?NowIshallnever,never

leaveyouagain!”“Aremyeyesreallytellingmethetruth?”answeredtheoldman,rubbinghis

eyes.“AreyoureallymyowndearPinocchio?”“Yes,yes,yes!ItisI!Lookatme!Andyouhaveforgivenme,haven’tyou?

Oh,mydearFather,howgoodyouare!AndtothinkthatI—Oh,butifyouonlyknewhowmanymisfortuneshavefallenonmyheadandhowmanytroublesIhavehad!JustthinkthatonthedayyousoldyouroldcoattobuymemyA-B-CbooksothatIcouldgotoschool,IranawaytotheMarionetteTheaterandtheproprietorcaughtmeandwantedtoburnmetocookhisroastlamb!Hewastheonewhogaveme the fivegoldpieces foryou,but Imet theFoxand theCat,whotookmetotheInnoftheRedLobster.TheretheyatelikewolvesandIlefttheInnaloneandImettheAssassinsinthewood.Iranandtheyranafterme,

alwaysafterme,tilltheyhangedmetothebranchofagiantoaktree.ThentheFairy of the Azure Hair sent the coach to rescue me and the doctors, afterlookingatme,said,‘Ifheisnotdead,thenheissurelyalive,’andthenItoldalieandmynosebegantogrow.Itgrewanditgrew,tillIcouldn’tgetitthroughthedooroftheroom.AndthenIwentwiththeFoxandtheCattotheFieldofWonderstoburythegoldpieces.TheParrotlaughedatmeand,insteadoftwothousandgoldpieces,Ifoundnone.WhentheJudgeheardIhadbeenrobbed,hesentmeto jail tomakethe thieveshappy;andwhenIcameawayIsawafinebunchof grapes hanging on a vine.The trap caughtme and theFarmer put acollar onme andmademe awatchdog.He found out Iwas innocentwhen Icaught theWeasels and he let me go. The Serpent with the tail that smokedstartedtolaughandaveininhischestbrokeandsoIwentbacktotheFairy’shouse.Shewasdead,andthePigeon,seeingmecrying,saidtome,‘IhaveseenyourfatherbuildingaboattolookforyouinAmerica,’andIsaidtohim,‘Oh,ifIonlyhadwings!’andhesaidtome,‘Doyouwanttogotoyourfather?’andIsaid,‘Perhaps,buthow?’andhesaid,‘Getonmyback.I’lltakeyouthere.’Weflewallnightlong,andnextmorningthefishermenwerelookingtowardthesea,crying,‘Thereisapoorlittlemandrowning,’andIknewitwasyou,becausemyhearttoldmesoandIwavedtoyoufromtheshore—”“Iknewyoualso,”putinGeppetto,“andIwantedtogotoyou;buthowcould

I? The seawas rough and thewhitecaps overturned the boat. Then a TerribleShark came up out of the sea and, as soon as he sawme in thewater, swamquickly towardme,putouthis tongue,andswallowedmeaseasilyas if Ihadbeenachocolatepeppermint.”“Andhowlonghaveyoubeenshutawayinhere?”“From that day to this, two long weary years—two years, my Pinocchio,

whichhavebeenliketwocenturies.”“Andhowhaveyoulived?Wheredidyoufindthecandle?Andthematches

withwhichtolightit—wheredidyougetthem?”“Youmustknowthat,inthestormwhichswampedmyboat,alargeshipalso

sufferedthesamefate.Thesailorswereallsaved,buttheshipwentrighttothebottomof the sea, and the sameTerribleShark that swallowedme, swallowedmostofit.”“What!Swallowedaship?”askedPinocchioinastonishment.“Atonegulp.Theonlythinghespatoutwasthemain-mast,foritstuckinhis

teeth.Tomyowngood luck, thatshipwas loadedwithmeat,preservedfoods,crackers,bread,bottlesofwine,raisins,cheese,coffee,sugar,waxcandles,and

boxesofmatches.Withall theseblessings,Ihavebeenable to livehappilyonfor two whole years, but now I am at the very last crumbs. Today there isnothingleftinthecupboard,andthiscandleyouseehereisthelastoneIhave.”“Andthen?”“Andthen,mydear,we’llfindourselvesindarkness.”“Then,mydearFather,”saidPinocchio,“thereisnotimetolose.Wemusttry

toescape.”“Escape!How?”“WecanrunoutoftheShark’smouthanddiveintothesea.”“Youspeakwell,butIcannotswim,mydearPinocchio.”“Whyshould thatmatter?Youcanclimbonmyshouldersand I,whoama

fineswimmer,willcarryyousafelytotheshore.”“Dreams,myboy!”answeredGeppetto, shakinghisheadandsmilingsadly.

“DoyouthinkitpossibleforaMarionette,ayardhigh,tohavethestrengthtocarrymeonhisshouldersandswim?”“Tryitandsee!Andinanycase,ifitiswrittenthatwemustdie,weshallat

leastdietogether.”Not adding anotherword, Pinocchio took the candle in his hand and going

aheadtolighttheway,hesaidtohisfather:“Followmeandhavenofear.”Theywalkedalongdistancethroughthestomachandthewholebodyofthe

Shark.Whentheyreachedthethroatofthemonster,theystoppedforawhiletowaitfortherightmomentinwhichtomaketheirescape.IwantyoutoknowthattheShark,beingveryoldandsufferingfromasthma

and heart trouble,was obliged to sleepwith hismouth open.Because of this,Pinocchiowasabletocatchaglimpseoftheskyfilledwithstars,ashelookedupthroughtheopenjawsofhisnewhome.“The time has come for us to escape,” he whispered, turning to his father.

“The Shark is fast asleep. The sea is calm and the night is as bright as day.Followmeclosely,dearFather,andweshallsoonbesaved.”Nosoonersaidthandone.Theyclimbedupthethroatofthemonstertillthey

cametothatimmenseopenmouth.Theretheyhadtowalkontiptoes,foriftheytickled the Shark’s long tongue he might awaken—and where would they bethen?Thetonguewassowideandsolongthatitlookedlikeacountryroad.ThetwofugitiveswerejustabouttodiveintotheseawhentheSharksneezedvery

suddenly and, as he sneezed, he gavePinocchio andGeppetto such a jolt thatthey found themselves thrown on their backs and dashed oncemore and veryunceremoniouslyintothestomachofthemonster.Tomakemattersworse,thecandlewentoutandfatherandsonwereleftinthe

dark.“Andnow?”askedPinocchiowithaseriousface.“Nowwearelost.”“Whylost?Givemeyourhand,dearFather,andbecarefulnottoslip!”“Wherewillyoutakeme?”“Wemusttryagain.Comewithmeanddon’tbeafraid.”WiththesewordsPinocchiotookhisfatherbythehandand,alwayswalking

on tiptoes, they climbedup themonster’s throat for a second time.They thencrossedthewholetongueandjumpedoverthreerowsofteeth.Butbeforetheytookthelastgreatleap,theMarionettesaidtohisfather:“Climb on my back and hold on tightly to my neck. I’ll take care of

everythingelse.”AssoonasGeppettowascomfortablyseatedonhisshoulders,Pinocchio,very

sureofwhathewasdoing,divedintothewaterandstartedtoswim.Theseawaslike oil, themoon shone in all splendor, and the Shark continued to sleep sosoundlythatnotevenacannonshotwouldhaveawakenedhim.

CHAPTER36

PinocchiofinallyceasestobeaMarionetteandbecomesaboy

“MydearFather,wearesaved!”criedtheMarionette.“Allwehavetodonowistogettotheshore,andthatiseasy.”Without another word, he swam swiftly away in an effort to reach land as

soonaspossible.AllatoncehenoticedthatGeppettowasshiveringandshakingasifwithahighfever.Was he shivering from fear or from cold?Who knows? Perhaps a little of

both.ButPinocchio,thinkinghisfatherwasfrightened,triedtocomforthimbysaying:“Courage,Father!Inafewmomentsweshallbesafeonland.”“Butwhere is that blessed shore?” asked the little oldman,more andmore

worriedashetriedtopiercethefarawayshadows.“HereIamsearchingonallsidesandIseenothingbutseaandsky.”“Iseetheshore,”saidtheMarionette.“Remember,Father,thatIamlikeacat.

Iseebetteratnightthanbyday.”PoorPinocchiopretendedtobepeacefulandcontented,buthewasfar from

that.Hewasbeginningtofeeldiscouraged,hisstrengthwasleavinghim,andhisbreathing was becomingmore andmore labored. He felt he could not go onmuchlonger,andtheshorewasstillfaraway.He swam a few more strokes. Then he turned to Geppetto and cried out

weakly:“Helpme,Father!Help,forIamdying!”Father and sonwere really about to drownwhen they heard a voice like a

guitaroutoftunecallfromthesea:“Whatisthetrouble?”“ItisIandmypoorfather.”“Iknowthevoice.YouarePinocchio.”“Exactly.Andyou?”“IamtheTunny,yourcompanionintheShark’sstomach.”“Andhowdidyouescape?”

“Iimitatedyourexample.Youaretheonewhoshowedmethewayandafteryouwent,Ifollowed.”“Tunny,youarrivedattherightmoment!Iimploreyou,fortheloveyoubear

yourchildren,thelittleTunnies,tohelpus,orwearelost!”“Withgreatpleasureindeed.Hangontomytail,bothofyou,andletmelead

you.Inatwinklingyouwillbesafeonland.”Geppetto and Pinocchio, as you can easily imagine, did not refuse the

invitation;indeed,insteadofhangingontothetail,theythoughtitbettertoclimbontheTunny’sback.“Arewetooheavy?”askedPinocchio.“Heavy?Notintheleast.Youareaslightassea-shells,”answeredtheTunny,

whowasaslargeasatwo-year-oldhorse.As soon as they reached the shore, Pinocchio was the first to jump to the

groundtohelphisoldfather.Thenheturnedtothefishandsaidtohim:“Dear friend, youhave savedmy father, and I havenot enoughwordswith

whichtothankyou!Allowmetoembraceyouasasignofmyeternalgratitude.”TheTunnystuckhisnoseoutofthewaterandPinocchiokneltonthesandand

kissed himmost affectionately on his cheek. At this warm greeting, the poorTunny, who was not used to such tenderness, wept like a child. He felt soembarrassed and ashamed that he turned quickly, plunged into the sea, anddisappeared.Inthemeantimedayhaddawned.Pinocchio offered his arm to Geppetto, who was so weak he could hardly

stand,andsaidtohim:“Leanonmyarm,dearFather,andletusgo.Wewillwalkvery,veryslowly,

andifwefeeltiredwecanrestbythewayside.”“Andwherearewegoing?”askedGeppetto.“Tolookforahouseorahut,wheretheywillbekindenoughtogiveusabite

ofbreadandabitofstrawtosleepon.”They had not taken a hundred steps when they saw two rough-looking

individualssittingonastonebeggingforalms.ItwastheFoxandtheCat,butonecouldhardlyrecognizethem,theylooked

somiserable.TheCat,afterpretendingtobeblindforsomanyyearshadreallylostthesightofbotheyes.AndtheFox,old,thin,andalmosthairless,hadevenlosthis tail.Thatsly thiefhadfallen intodeepestpoverty,andonedayhehad

beenforcedtosellhisbeautifultailforabitetoeat.“Oh,Pinocchio,”hecriedinatearfulvoice.“Giveussomealms,webegof

you!Weareold,tired,andsick.”“Sick!”repeatedtheCat.“Addio,falsefriends!”answeredtheMarionette.“Youcheatedmeonce,but

youwillnevercatchmeagain.”“Believeus!Todaywearetrulypoorandstarving.”“Starving!”repeatedtheCat.“If you are poor; you deserve it! Remember the old proverb which says:

‘Stolenmoneyneverbearsfruit.’Addio,falsefriends.”“Havemercyonus!”“Onus.”“Addio, false friends. Remember the old proverb which says: ‘Bad wheat

alwaysmakespoorbread!’”“Donotabandonus.”“Abandonus,”repeatedtheCat.“Addio, false friends. Remember the old proverb: ‘Whoever steals his

neighbor’sshirt,usuallydieswithouthisown.’”Wavinggood-bytothem,PinocchioandGeppettocalmlywentontheirway.

Afterafewmoresteps,theysaw,attheendofalongroadnearaclumpoftrees,atinycottagebuiltofstraw.“Someone must live in that little hut,” said Pinocchio. “Let us see for

ourselves.”Theywentandknockedatthedoor.“Whoisit?”saidalittlevoicefromwithin.“A poor father and a poorer son, without food and with no roof to cover

them,”answeredtheMarionette.“Turnthekeyandthedoorwillopen,”saidthesamelittlevoice.Pinocchioturnedthekeyandthedooropened.Assoonastheywentin,they

lookedhereandthereandeverywherebutsawnoone.“Oh—ho, where is the owner of the hut?” cried Pinocchio, very much

surprised.“HereIam,uphere!”Fatherandsonlookeduptotheceiling,andthereonabeamsattheTalking

Cricket.“Oh,mydearCricket,”saidPinocchio,bowingpolitely.“Oh, now you call me your dear Cricket, but do you remember when you

threwyourhammeratmetokillme?”“Youare right, dearCricket.Throwahammer atmenow. I deserve it!But

sparemypooroldfather.”“Iamgoingtospareboththefatherandtheson.Ihaveonlywantedtoremind

youofthetrickyoulongagoplayeduponme,toteachyouthatinthisworldofourswemustbekindandcourteoustoothers, ifwewanttofindkindnessandcourtesyinourowndaysoftrouble.”“Youare right, littleCricket,youaremore than right, and I shall remember

thelessonyouhavetaughtme.Butwillyoutellhowyousucceededinbuyingthisprettylittlecottage?”“ThiscottagewasgiventomeyesterdaybyalittleGoatwithbluehair.”“AndwheredidtheGoatgo?”askedPinocchio.“Idon’tknow.”“Andwhenwillshecomeback?”“Shewill never comeback.Yesterday shewent away bleating sadly, and it

seemedtomeshesaid:‘PoorPinocchio,Ishallneverseehimagain...theSharkmusthaveeatenhimbythistime.’”“Werethoseherrealwords?Thenitwasshe—itwas—mydearlittleFairy,”

criedoutPinocchio, sobbingbitterly.Afterhehadcrieda long time,hewipedhiseyesandthenhemadeabedofstrawforoldGeppetto.HelaidhimonitandsaidtotheTalkingCricket:“Tellme,littleCricket,whereshallIfindaglassofmilkformypoorFather?”“ThreefieldsawayfromherelivesFarmerJohn.Hehassomecows.Gothere

andhewillgiveyouwhatyouwant.”PinocchioranallthewaytoFarmerJohn’shouse.TheFarmersaidtohim:“Howmuchmilkdoyouwant?”“Iwantafullglass.”“Afullglasscostsapenny.Firstgivemethepenny.”“Ihavenopenny,”answeredPinocchio,sadandashamed.“Verybad,myMarionette,”answeredtheFarmer,“verybad.Ifyouhaveno

penny,Ihavenomilk.”

“Toobad,”saidPinocchioandstartedtogo.“Waitamoment,”saidFarmerJohn.“Perhapswecancometoterms.Doyou

knowhowtodrawwaterfromawell?”“Icantry.”“Then go to that well you see yonder and draw one hundred bucketfuls of

water.”“Verywell.”“Afteryouhavefinished,Ishallgiveyouaglassofwarmsweetmilk.”“Iamsatisfied.”FarmerJohntooktheMarionettetothewellandshowedhimhowtodrawthe

water. Pinocchio set towork aswell as he knewhow, but long before he hadpulled up the one hundred buckets, he was tired out and dripping withperspiration.Hehadneverworkedsohardinhislife.“Until today,”saidtheFarmer,“mydonkeyhasdrawnthewaterforme,but

nowthatpooranimalisdying.”“Willyoutakemetoseehim?”saidPinocchio.“Gladly.”AssoonasPinocchiowentintothestable,hespiedalittleDonkeylyingona

bedofstrawinthecornerofthestable.Hewaswornoutfromhungerandtoomuchwork.After lookingathima longtime,hesaid tohimself:“IknowthatDonkey!Ihaveseenhimbefore.”Andbendinglowoverhim,heasked:“Whoareyou?”At thisquestion, theDonkeyopenedweary,dyingeyesandanswered in the

sametongue:“IamLamp-Wick.”Thenheclosedhiseyesanddied.“Oh,mypoorLamp-Wick,”saidPinocchio inafaintvoice,ashewipedhis

eyeswithsomestrawhehadpickedupfromtheground.“Doyoufeelsosorryforalittledonkeythathascostyounothing?”saidthe

Farmer.“WhatshouldIdo—I,whohavepaidmygoodmoneyforhim?”“But,yousee,hewasmyfriend.”“Yourfriend?”“Aclassmateofmine.”“What,” shouted Farmer John, bursting out laughing. “What! You had

donkeysinyourschool?Howyoumusthavestudied!”

TheMarionette,ashamedandhurtbythosewords,didnotanswer,buttakinghisglassofmilkreturnedtohisfather.Fromthatdayon,formorethanfivemonths,Pinocchiogotupeverymorning

justasdawnwasbreakingandwenttothefarmtodrawwater.Andeverydayhewasgivenaglassofwarmmilkforhispooroldfather,whogrewstrongerandbetterdaybyday.Buthewasnotsatisfiedwiththis.Helearnedtomakebasketsofreedsandsoldthem.Withthemoneyhereceived,heandhisfatherwereabletokeepfromstarving.Amongother things,hebuilta rollingchair,strongandcomfortable, to take

hisoldfatheroutforanairingonbright,sunnydays.IntheeveningtheMarionettestudiedbylamplight.Withsomeofthemoney

he had earned, he bought himself a secondhand volume that had a few pagesmissing,andwiththathelearnedtoreadinaveryshorttime.Asfaraswritingwasconcerned,heusedalongstickatoneendofwhichhehadwhittledalong,finepoint.Inkhehadnone,soheusedthejuiceofblackberriesorcherries.Littlebylittlehisdiligencewasrewarded.Hesucceeded,notonlyinhisstudies,butalsoinhiswork,andadaycamewhenheputenoughmoneytogethertokeephisold father comfortable and happy. Besides this, hewas able to save the greatamountoffiftypennies.Withithewantedtobuyhimselfanewsuit.Onedayhesaidtohisfather:“I am going to themarket place to buymyself a coat, a cap, and a pair of

shoes.WhenIcomebackI’llbesodressedup,youwillthinkIamarichman.”Heranoutofthehouseanduptheroadtothevillage,laughingandsinging.

Suddenlyheheardhisnamecalled,andlookingaroundtoseewhencethevoicecame,henoticedalargesnailcrawlingoutofsomebushes.“Don’tyourecognizeme?”saidtheSnail.“Yesandno.”“Doyou remember theSnail that livedwith theFairywithAzureHair?Do

you not remember how she opened the door for you one night and gave yousomethingtoeat?”“Iremembereverything,”criedPinocchio.“Answermequickly,prettySnail,

wherehaveyouleftmyFairy?Whatisshedoing?Hassheforgivenme?Doessherememberme?Doesshestillloveme?Issheveryfarawayfromhere?MayIseeher?”At all these questions, tumbling out one after another, the Snail answered,

calmasever:

“MydearPinocchio,theFairyislyingillinahospital.”“Inahospital?”“Yes,indeed.Shehasbeenstrickenwithtroubleandillness,andshehasn’ta

pennyleftwithwhichtobuyabiteofbread.”“Really?Oh,howsorryIam!Mypoor,dearlittleFairy!IfIhadamillionI

shouldruntoherwithit!ButIhaveonlyfiftypennies.Heretheyare.Iwasjustgoing to buy some clothes.Here, take them, littleSnail, andgive them tomygoodFairy.”“Whataboutthenewclothes?”“Whatdoesthatmatter?IshouldliketoselltheseragsIhaveontohelpher

more.Go,andhurry.ComebackherewithinacoupleofdaysandIhopetohavemoremoneyforyou!UntiltodayIhaveworkedformyfather.NowIshallhavetoworkformymotheralso.Good-by,andIhopetoseeyousoon.”The Snail,much against her usual habit, began to run like a lizard under a

summersun.WhenPinocchioreturnedhome,hisfatheraskedhim:“Andwhereisthenewsuit?”“Icouldn’tfindonetofitme.Ishallhavetolookagainsomeotherday.”That night, Pinocchio, instead of going to bed at ten o’clock waited until

midnight,andinsteadofmakingeightbaskets,hemadesixteen.Afterthathewenttobedandfellasleep.Asheslept,hedreamedofhisFairy,

beautiful, smiling, and happy, who kissed him and said to him, “Bravo,Pinocchio!Inrewardforyourkindheart,Iforgiveyouforallyouroldmischief.Boyswholoveandtakegoodcareoftheirparentswhentheyareoldandsick,deservepraiseeventhoughtheymaynotbeheldupasmodelsofobedienceandgoodbehavior.Keepondoingsowell,andyouwillbehappy.”Atthatverymoment,Pinocchioawokeandopenedwidehiseyes.Whatwashissurpriseandhisjoywhen,onlookinghimselfover,hesawthat

he was no longer a Marionette, but that he had become a real live boy! Helookedallabouthimandinsteadoftheusualwallsofstraw,hefoundhimselfinabeautifullyfurnishedlittleroom,theprettiesthehadeverseen.Inatwinkling,hejumpeddownfromhisbedtolookonthechairstandingnear.There,hefoundanewsuit,anewhat,andapairofshoes.Assoonashewasdressed,heputhishands inhispocketsandpulledouta

littleleatherpurseonwhichwerewrittenthefollowingwords:TheFairywithAzureHairreturns

fiftypenniestoherdearPinocchio

withmanythanksforhiskindheart.

TheMarionetteopenedthepursetofindthemoney,andbehold—therewerefiftygoldcoins!Pinocchiorantothemirror.Hehardlyrecognizedhimself.Thebrightfaceof

atallboylookedathimwithwide-awakeblueeyes,darkbrownhairandhappy,smilinglips.Surrounded by somuch splendor, theMarionette hardly knewwhat hewas

doing.Herubbedhiseyestwoorthreetimes,wonderingifhewerestillasleeporawakeanddecidedhemustbeawake.“Andwhere is Father?” he cried suddenly. He ran into the next room, and

therestoodGeppetto,grownyearsyoungerovernight,spickandspaninhisnewclothesandgayasa lark in themorning.HewasoncemoreMastroGeppetto,the wood carver, hard at work on a lovely picture frame, decorating it withflowersandleaves,andheadsofanimals.“Father,Father,whathashappened?Tellmeifyoucan,”criedPinocchio,as

heranandjumpedonhisFather’sneck.“This sudden change in our house is all your doing, my dear Pinocchio,”

answeredGeppetto.“WhathaveItodowithit?”“Just this.When bad boys become good and kind, they have the power of

makingtheirhomesgayandnewwithhappiness.”“IwonderwheretheoldPinocchioofwoodhashiddenhimself?”“There he is,” answered Geppetto. And he pointed to a large Marionette

leaning against a chair, head turned to one side, arms hanging limp, and legstwistedunderhim.Afteralong,longlook,Pinocchiosaidtohimselfwithgreatcontent:“HowridiculousIwasasaMarionette!AndhowhappyIam,nowthatIhave

becomearealboy!”