The Adventures of Pinocchio
I have them, I shall keep two thousand for myself and the other five
hundred I’ll give to you two.”
“A gift for us?” cried the Fox, pretending to be insulted. “Why, of
course not!”
“Of course not!” repeated the Cat.
“We do not work for gain,” answered the Fox. “We work only to enrich
others.”
“To enrich others!” repeated the Cat.
“What good people,” thought Pinocchio to himself. And forgetting his
father, the new coat, the A-B-C book, and all his good resolutions, he
said to the Fox and to the Cat:
“Let us go. I am with you.”
CHAPTER 13
The Inn of the Red Lobster
Cat and Fox and Marionette walked and walked and walked. At last, toward
evening, dead tired, they came to the Inn of the Red Lobster.
“Let us stop here a while,” said the Fox, “to eat a bite and rest for
a few hours. At midnight we’ll start out again, for at dawn tomorrow we
must be at the Field of Wonders.”
They went into the Inn and all three sat down at the same table.
However, not one of them was very hungry.
The poor Cat felt very weak, and he was able to eat only thirty-five
mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe with cheese.
Moreover, as he was so in need of strength, he had to have four more
helpings of butter and cheese.
The Fox, after a great deal of coaxing, tried his best to eat a little.
The doctor had put him on a diet, and he had to be satisfied with a
small hare dressed with a dozen young and tender spring chickens. After
the hare, he ordered some partridges, a few pheasants, a couple of
rabbits, and a dozen frogs and lizards. That was all. He felt ill, he
said, and could not eat another bite.
Pinocchio ate least of all. He asked for a bite of bread and a few nuts
and then hardly touched them. The poor fellow, with his mind on the
Field of Wonders, was suffering from a gold-piece indigestion.
Supper over, the Fox said to the Innkeeper:
“Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio and the other for me and
my friend. Before starting out, we’ll take a little nap. Remember to
call us at midnight sharp, for we must continue on our journey.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the Innkeeper, winking in a knowing way at the Fox
and the Cat, as if to say, “I understand.”
As soon as Pinocchio was in bed, he fell fast asleep and began to dream.
He dreamed he was in the middle of a field. The field was full of
vines heavy with grapes. The grapes were no other than gold coins which
tinkled merrily as they swayed in the wind. They seemed to say, “Let him
who wants us take us!”
Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take a handful of them, he
was awakened by three loud knocks at the door. It was the Innkeeper who
had come to tell him that midnight had struck.
“Are my friends ready?” the Marionette asked him.
“Indeed, yes! They went two hours ago.”
“Why in such a hurry?”
“Unfortunately the Cat received a telegram which said that his
first-born was suffering from chilblains and was on the point of death.
He could not even wait to say good-by to you.”
“Did they pay for the supper?”
“How could they do such a thing? Being people of great refinement, they
did not want to offend you so deeply as not to allow you the honor of
paying the bill.”
“Too bad! That offense would have been more than pleasing to me,” said
Pinocchio, scratching his head.
“Where did my good friends say they would wait for me?” he added.
“At the Field of Wonders, at sunrise tomorrow morning.”
Pinocchio paid a gold piece for the three suppers and started on his way
toward the field that was to make him a rich man.
He walked on, not knowing where he was going, for it was dark, so dark
that not a thing was visible. Round about him, not a leaf stirred. A few
bats skimmed his nose now and again and scared him half to death. Once
or twice he shouted, “Who goes there?” and the far-away hills echoed
back to him, “Who goes there? Who goes there? Who goes. . . ?”
As he walked, Pinocchio noticed a tiny insect glimmering on the trunk of
a tree, a small being that glowed with a pale, soft light.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the ghost of the Talking Cricket,” answered the little being in a
faint voice that sounded as if it came from a far-away world.
“What do you want?” asked the Marionette.
“I want to give you a few words of good advice. Return home and give the
four gold pieces you have left to your poor old father who is weeping
because he has not seen you for many a day.”
“Tomorrow my father will be a rich man, for these four gold pieces will
become two thousand.”
“Don’t listen to those who promise you wealth overnight, my boy. As a
rule they are either fools or swindlers! Listen to me and go home.”
“But I want to go on!”
“The hour is late!”
“I want to go on.”
“The night is very dark.”
“I want to go on.”
“The road is dangerous.”
“I want to go on.”
“Remember that boys who insist on having their own way, sooner or later
come to grief.”
“The same nonsense. Good-by, Cricket.”
“Good night, Pinocchio, and may Heaven preserve you from the Assassins.”
There was silence for a minute and the light of the Talking Cricket
disappeared suddenly, just as if someone had snuffed it out. Once again
the road was plunged in darkness.
CHAPTER 14
Pinocchio, not having listened to the good advice of the Talking
Cricket, falls into the hands of the Assassins.
“Dear, oh, dear! When I come to think of it,” said the Marionette to
himself, as he once more set out on his journey, “we boys are really
very unlucky. Everybody scolds us, everybody gives us advice, everybody
warns us. If we were to allow it, everyone would try to be father and
mother to us; everyone, even the Talking Cricket. Take me, for example.
Just because I would not listen to that bothersome Cricket, who knows
how many misfortunes may be awaiting me! Assassins indeed! At least I
have never believed in them, nor ever will. To speak sensibly, I think
assassins have been invented by fathers and mothers to frighten children
who want to run away at night. And then, even if I were to meet them
on the road, what matter? I’ll just run up to them, and say, ‘Well,
signori, what do you want? Remember that you can’t fool with me! Run
along and mind your business.’ At such a speech, I can almost see those
poor fellows running like the wind. But in case they don’t run away, I
can always run myself. . .”
Pinocchio was not given time to argue any longer, for he thought he
heard a slight rustle among the leaves behind him.
He turned to look and behold, there in the darkness stood two big black
shadows, wrapped from head to foot in black sacks. The two figures
leaped toward him as softly as if they were ghosts.
“Here they come!” Pinocchio said to himself, and, not knowing where to
hide the gold pieces, he stuck all four of them under his tongue.
He tried to run away, but hardly had he taken a step, when he felt his
arms grasped and heard two horrible, deep voices say to him: “Your money
or your life!”
On account of the gold pieces in his mouth, Pinocchio could not say
a word, so he tried with head and hands and body to show, as best he
could, that he was only a poor Marionette without a penny in his pocket.
“Come, come, less nonsense, and out with your money!” cried the two
thieves in threatening voices.
Once more, Pinocchio’s head and hands said, “I haven’t a penny.”
“Out with that money or you’re a dead man,” said the taller of the two
Assassins.
“Dead man,” repeated the other.
“And after having killed you, we will kill your father also.”
“Your father also!”
“No, no, no, not my Father!” cried Pinocchio, wild with terror; but as
he screamed, the gold pieces tinkled together in his mouth.
“Ah, you rascal! So that’s the game! You have the money hidden under
your tongue. Out with it!”
But Pinocchio was as stubborn as ever.
“Are you deaf? Wait, young man, we’ll get it from you in a twinkling!”
One of them grabbed the Marionette by the nose and the other by the
chin, and they pulled him unmercifully from side to side in order to
make him open his mouth.
All was of no use. The Marionette’s lips might have been nailed
together. They would not open.
In desperation the smaller of the two Assassins pulled out a long knife
from his pocket, and tried to pry Pinocchio’s mouth open with it.
Quick as a flash, the Marionette sank his teeth deep into the Assassin’s
hand, bit it off and spat it out. Fancy his surprise when he saw that it
was not a hand, but a cat’s paw.
Encouraged by this first victory, he freed himself from the claws of
his assailers and, leaping over the bushes along the road, ran swiftly
across the fields. His pursuers were after him at once, like two dogs
chasing a hare.
After running seven miles or so, Pinocchio was well-nigh exhausted.
Seeing himself lost, he climbed up a giant pine tree and sat there
to see what he could see. The Assassins tried to climb also, but they
slipped and fell.
Far from giving up the chase, this only spurred them on. They gathered a
bundle of wood, piled it up at the foot of the pine, and set fire to it.
In a twinkling the tree began to sputter and burn like a candle blown by
the wind. Pinocchio saw the flames climb higher and higher. Not wishing
to end his days as a roasted Marionette, he jumped quickly to the ground
and off he went, the Assassins close to him, as before.
Dawn was breaking when, without any warning whatsoever, Pinocchio found
his path barred by a deep pool full of water the color of muddy coffee.
What was there to do? With a “One, two, three!” he jumped clear across
it. The Assassins jumped also, but not having measured their distance
well--splash!!!--they fell right into the middle of the pool. Pinocchio
who heard the splash and felt it, too, cried out, laughing, but never
stopping in his race:
“A pleasant bath to you, signori!”
He thought they must surely be drowned and turned his head to see. But
there were the two somber figures still following him, though their
black sacks were drenched and dripping with water.
CHAPTER 15
The Assassins chase Pinocchio, catch him, and hang him to the branch of
a giant oak tree.
As he ran, the Marionette felt more and more certain that he would have
to give himself up into the hands of his pursuers. Suddenly he saw a
little cottage gleaming white as the snow among the trees of the forest.
“If I have enough breath left with which to reach that little house, I
may be saved,” he said to himself.
Not waiting another moment, he darted swiftly through the woods, the
Assassins still after him.
After a hard race of almost an hour, tired and out of breath, Pinocchio
finally reached the door of the cottage and knocked. No one answered.
He knocked again, harder than before, for behind him he heard the steps
and the labored breathing of his persecutors. The same silence followed.
As knocking was of no use, Pinocchio, in despair, began to kick and bang
against the door, as if he wanted to break it. At the noise, a window
opened and a lovely maiden looked out. She had azure hair and a face
white as wax. Her eyes were closed and her hands crossed on her breast.
With a voice so weak that it hardly could be heard, she whispered:
“No one lives in this house. Everyone is dead.”
“Won’t you, at least, open the door for me?” cried Pinocchio in a
beseeching voice.
“I also am dead.”
“Dead? What are you doing at the window, then?”
“I am waiting for the coffin to take me away.”
After these words, the little girl disappeared and the window closed
without a sound.
“Oh, Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair,” cried Pinocchio, “open, I beg of
you. Take pity on a poor boy who is being chased by two Assass--”