The Adventures of Pinocchio
They took the four gold pieces which you have buried and ran away as
fast as the wind. If you can catch them, you’re a brave one!”
Pinocchio’s mouth opened wide. He would not believe the Parrot’s words
and began to dig away furiously at the earth. He dug and he dug till
the hole was as big as himself, but no money was there. Every penny was
gone.
In desperation, he ran to the city and went straight to the courthouse
to report the robbery to the magistrate. The Judge was a Monkey, a large
Gorilla venerable with age. A flowing white beard covered his chest and
he wore gold-rimmed spectacles from which the glasses had dropped
out. The reason for wearing these, he said, was that his eyes had been
weakened by the work of many years.
Pinocchio, standing before him, told his pitiful tale, word by word.
He gave the names and the descriptions of the robbers and begged for
justice.
The Judge listened to him with great patience. A kind look shone in his
eyes. He became very much interested in the story; he felt moved; he
almost wept. When the Marionette had no more to say, the Judge put out
his hand and rang a bell.
At the sound, two large Mastiffs appeared, dressed in Carabineers’
uniforms.
Then the magistrate, pointing to Pinocchio, said in a very solemn voice:
“This poor simpleton has been robbed of four gold pieces. Take him,
therefore, and throw him into prison.” The Marionette, on hearing this
sentence passed upon him, was thoroughly stunned. He tried to protest,
but the two officers clapped their paws on his mouth and hustled him
away to jail.
There he had to remain for four long, weary months. And if it had not
been for a very lucky chance, he probably would have had to stay there
longer. For, my dear children, you must know that it happened just then
that the young emperor who ruled over the City of Simple Simons had
gained a great victory over his enemy, and in celebration thereof, he
had ordered illuminations, fireworks, shows of all kinds, and, best of
all, the opening of all prison doors.
“If the others go, I go, too,” said Pinocchio to the Jailer.
“Not you,” answered the Jailer. “You are one of those--”
“I beg your pardon,” interrupted Pinocchio, “I, too, am a thief.”
“In that case you also are free,” said the Jailer. Taking off his cap,
he bowed low and opened the door of the prison, and Pinocchio ran out
and away, with never a look backward.
CHAPTER 20
Freed from prison, Pinocchio sets out to return to the Fairy; but on the
way he meets a Serpent and later is caught in a trap.
Fancy the happiness of Pinocchio on finding himself free! Without saying
yes or no, he fled from the city and set out on the road that was to
take him back to the house of the lovely Fairy.
It had rained for many days, and the road was so muddy that, at times,
Pinocchio sank down almost to his knees.
But he kept on bravely.
Tormented by the wish to see his father and his fairy sister with azure
hair, he raced like a greyhound. As he ran, he was splashed with mud
even up to his cap.
“How unhappy I have been,” he said to himself. “And yet I deserve
everything, for I am certainly very stubborn and stupid! I will always
have my own way. I won’t listen to those who love me and who have more
brains than I. But from now on, I’ll be different and I’ll try to become
a most obedient boy. I have found out, beyond any doubt whatever, that
disobedient boys are certainly far from happy, and that, in the long
run, they always lose out. I wonder if Father is waiting for me. Will
I find him at the Fairy’s house? It is so long, poor man, since I have
seen him, and I do so want his love and his kisses. And will the Fairy
ever forgive me for all I have done? She who has been so good to me and
to whom I owe my life! Can there be a worse or more heartless boy than I
am anywhere?”
As he spoke, he stopped suddenly, frozen with terror.
What was the matter? An immense Serpent lay stretched across the road--a
Serpent with a bright green skin, fiery eyes which glowed and burned,
and a pointed tail that smoked like a chimney.
How frightened was poor Pinocchio! He ran back wildly for half a mile,
and at last settled himself atop a heap of stones to wait for the
Serpent to go on his way and leave the road clear for him.
He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always
there, and even from afar one could see the flash of his red eyes and
the column of smoke which rose from his long, pointed tail.
Pinocchio, trying to feel very brave, walked straight up to him and said
in a sweet, soothing voice:
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Serpent, would you be so kind as to step aside
to let me pass?”
He might as well have talked to a wall. The Serpent never moved.
Once more, in the same sweet voice, he spoke:
“You must know, Mr. Serpent, that I am going home where my father is
waiting for me. It is so long since I have seen him! Would you mind very
much if I passed?”
He waited for some sign of an answer to his questions, but the answer
did not come. On the contrary, the green Serpent, who had seemed, until
then, wide awake and full of life, became suddenly very quiet and still.
His eyes closed and his tail stopped smoking.
“Is he dead, I wonder?” said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands together
happily. Without a moment’s hesitation, he started to step over him, but
he had just raised one leg when the Serpent shot up like a spring and
the Marionette fell head over heels backward. He fell so awkwardly that
his head stuck in the mud, and there he stood with his legs straight up
in the air.
At the sight of the Marionette kicking and squirming like a young
whirlwind, the Serpent laughed so heartily and so long that at last he
burst an artery and died on the spot.
Pinocchio freed himself from his awkward position and once more began
to run in order to reach the Fairy’s house before dark. As he went, the
pangs of hunger grew so strong that, unable to withstand them, he jumped
into a field to pick a few grapes that tempted him. Woe to him!
No sooner had he reached the grapevine than--crack! went his legs.
The poor Marionette was caught in a trap set there by a Farmer for some
Weasels which came every night to steal his chickens.
CHAPTER 21
Pinocchio is caught by a Farmer, who uses him as a watchdog for his
chicken coop.
Pinocchio, as you may well imagine, began to scream and weep and beg;
but all was of no use, for no houses were to be seen and not a soul
passed by on the road.
Night came on.
A little because of the sharp pain in his legs, a little because of
fright at finding himself alone in the darkness of the field, the
Marionette was about to faint, when he saw a tiny Glowworm flickering
by. He called to her and said:
“Dear little Glowworm, will you set me free?”
“Poor little fellow!” replied the Glowworm, stopping to look at him with
pity. “How came you to be caught in this trap?”
“I stepped into this lonely field to take a few grapes and--”
“Are the grapes yours?”
“No.”
“Who has taught you to take things that do not belong to you?”
“I was hungry.”
“Hunger, my boy, is no reason for taking something which belongs to
another.”
“It’s true, it’s true!” cried Pinocchio in tears. “I won’t do it again.”
Just then, the conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps.
It was the owner of the field, who was coming on tiptoes to see if, by
chance, he had caught the Weasels which had been eating his chickens.
Great was his surprise when, on holding up his lantern, he saw that,
instead of a Weasel, he had caught a boy!
“Ah, you little thief!” said the Farmer in an angry voice. “So you are
the one who steals my chickens!”
“Not I! No, no!” cried Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. “I came here only to
take a very few grapes.”
“He who steals grapes may very easily steal chickens also. Take my word
for it, I’ll give you a lesson that you’ll remember for a long while.”
He opened the trap, grabbed the Marionette by the collar, and carried
him to the house as if he were a puppy. When he reached the yard in
front of the house, he flung him to the ground, put a foot on his neck,
and said to him roughly: “It is late now and it’s time for bed. Tomorrow
we’ll settle matters. In the meantime, since my watchdog died today, you
may take his place and guard my henhouse.”
No sooner said than done. He slipped a dog collar around Pinocchio’s
neck and tightened it so that it would not come off. A long iron chain
was tied to the collar. The other end of the chain was nailed to the
wall.
“If tonight it should happen to rain,” said the Farmer, “you can sleep
in that little doghouse near-by, where you will find plenty of straw for
a soft bed. It has been Melampo’s bed for three years, and it will be
good enough for you. And if, by any chance, any thieves should come, be
sure to bark!”
After this last warning, the Farmer went into the house and closed the
door and barred it.
Poor Pinocchio huddled close to the doghouse more dead than alive from
cold, hunger, and fright. Now and again he pulled and tugged at the
collar which nearly choked him and cried out in a weak voice:
“I deserve it! Yes, I deserve it! I have been nothing but a truant and
a vagabond. I have never obeyed anyone and I have always done as I
pleased. If I were only like so many others and had studied and worked
and stayed with my poor old father, I should not find myself here
now, in this field and in the darkness, taking the place of a farmer’s
watchdog. Oh, if I could start all over again! But what is done can’t be
undone, and I must be patient!”
After this little sermon to himself, which came from the very depths of
his heart, Pinocchio went into the doghouse and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 22
Pinocchio discovers the thieves and, as a reward for faithfulness, he
regains his liberty.
Even though a boy may be very unhappy, he very seldom loses sleep over
his worries. The Marionette, being no exception to this rule, slept on
peacefully for a few hours till well along toward midnight, when he
was awakened by strange whisperings and stealthy sounds coming from the
yard. He stuck his nose out of the doghouse and saw four slender, hairy
animals. They were Weasels, small animals very fond of both eggs and
chickens. One of them left her companions and, going to the door of the
doghouse, said in a sweet voice:
“Good evening, Melampo.”
“My name is not Melampo,” answered Pinocchio.
“Who are you, then?”
“I am Pinocchio.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the watchdog.”
“But where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who used to live in this
house?”
“He died this morning.”
“Died? Poor beast! He was so good! Still, judging by your face, I think
you, too, are a good-natured dog.”
“I beg your pardon, I am not a dog!”
“What are you, then?”
“I am a Marionette.”
“Are you taking the place of the watchdog?”
“I’m sorry to say that I am. I’m being punished.”
“Well, I shall make the same terms with you that we had with the dead
Melampo. I am sure you will be glad to hear them.”
“And what are the terms?”
“This is our plan: We’ll come once in a while, as in the past, to pay
a visit to this henhouse, and we’ll take away eight chickens. Of these,
seven are for us, and one for you, provided, of course, that you will
make believe you are sleeping and will not bark for the Farmer.”
“Did Melampo really do that?” asked Pinocchio.
“Indeed he did, and because of that we were the best of friends. Sleep
away peacefully, and remember that before we go we shall leave you a
nice fat chicken all ready for your breakfast in the morning. Is that
understood?”
“Even too well,” answered Pinocchio. And shaking his head in a