Four Rabbits as Black as Ink EnteredCarrying a Little BierFour Rabbits as Black as Ink Entered
The Falcon Saves Pinocchio
While poor Pinocchio, suspended to a branch of the Big Oak, was apparently more dead than alive, the beautiful Child with blue hair came again to the window. When she saw the unhappy puppet hanging by his throat, and dancing up and down in the gusts of the north wind, she was moved by compassion. Striking her hands together, she gave three little claps.
At this signal there came a sound of the sweep of wings flying rapidly and a large Falcon flew on to the window-sill.
"What are your orders, gracious Fairy?" he asked, inclining his beak in sign of reverence.
"Do you see that puppet dangling from a branch of the Big Oak?"
"I see him."
"Very well. Fly there at once: with your strong beak break the knot that keeps him suspended in the air, and lay him gently on the grass at the foot of the tree."
The Falcon flew away and after two minutes he returned, saying:
"I have done as you commanded."
"And how did you find him?"
"To see him he appeared dead, but he cannot really be quite dead, for I had no sooner loosened the running noose that tightened his throat than, giving a sigh, he muttered in a faint voice: 'Now I feel better!'"
The Fairy then struck her hands together twice and a magnificent Poodle appeared, walking upright on his hind legs exactly as if he had been a man.
He was in the full-dress livery of a coachman. On his head he had a three-cornered cap braided with gold, his curly white wig came down on to his shoulders, he had a chocolate-colored waistcoat with diamond buttons, and two large pockets to contain the bones that his mistress gave him at dinner. He had, besides, a pair of short crimson velvet breeches, silk stockings, cut-down shoes, and hanging behind him a species of umbrella case made of blue satin, to put his tail into when the weather was rainy.
"Be quick, Medoro, like a good dog!" said the Fairy to the Poodle. "Have the most beautiful carriage in my coach-house harnessed, and take the road to the wood. When you come to the Big Oak you will find a poor puppet stretched on the grass half dead. Pick him up gently and lay him flat on the cushions of the carriage and bring him here to me. Do you understand?"
The Poodle, to show that he had understood, shook the case of blue satin three or four times and ran off like a race-horse.
Shortly afterwards a beautiful little carriage came out of the coach-house. The cushions were stuffed with canary feathers and it was lined on the inside with whipped cream, custard and vanilla wafers. The little carriage was drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle, seated on the coach-box, cracked his whip from side to side like a driver when he is afraid that he is behind time.
Scarcely had a quarter of an hour passed, when the carriage returned. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, took the poor puppet in her arms and carried him into a little room that was wainscoted with mother-of-pearl. She sent at once to summon the most famous doctors in the neighborhood.
They came immediately, one after the other: namely, a Crow, an Owl, and a Talking-Cricket.
"I wish to know from you, gentlemen," said the Fairy, "if this unfortunate puppet is alive or dead!"
At this request the Crow, advancing first, felt Pinocchio's pulse; he then felt his nose and then the little toe of his foot: and, having done this carefully, he pronounced solemnly the following words:
"To my belief the puppet is already quite dead; but, if unfortunately he should not be dead, then it would be a sign that he is still alive!"
"I regret," said the Owl, "to be obliged to contradict the Crow, my illustrious friend and colleague; but, in my opinion the puppet is still alive; but, if unfortunately he should not be alive, then it would be a sign that he is dead indeed!"
"And you—have you nothing to say?" asked the Fairy of the Talking-Cricket.
"In my opinion, the wisest thing a prudent doctor can do, when he does not know what he is talking about, is to be silent. For the rest, that puppet there has a face that is not new to me. I have known him for some time!"
Pinocchio, who up to that moment had lain immovable, like a real piece of wood, was seized with a fit of convulsive trembling that shook the whole bed.
"That puppet there," continued the Talking-Cricket, "is a confirmed rogue."
Pinocchio opened his eyes, but shut them again immediately.
"He is a ragamuffin, a do-nothing, a vagabond."
Pinocchio hid his face beneath the clothes.
"That puppet there is a disobedient son who will make his poor father die of a broken heart!"
At that instant a suffocated sound of sobs and crying was heard in the room. Imagine everybody's astonishment when, having raised the sheets a little, it was discovered that the sounds came from Pinocchio.
"When a dead person cries, it is a sign that he is on the road to get well," said the Crow solemnly.
"I grieve to contradict my illustrious friend and colleague," added the Owl; "but for me, when the dead person cries, it is a sign that he is sorry to die."
Pinocchio Refuses to Take His Medicine
As soon as the three doctors had left the room the Fairy approached Pinocchio and, having touched his forehead, she perceived that he was in a high fever.
She therefore dissolved a certain white powder in half a tumbler of water and, offering it to the puppet, she said to him lovingly:
"Drink it and in a few days you will be cured."
Pinocchio looked at the tumbler, made a wry face, and then asked in a plaintive voice:
"Is it sweet or bitter?"
"It is bitter, but it will do you good."
"If it is bitter, I will not take it."
"Listen to me: drink it."
"I don't like anything bitter."
"Drink it, and when you have drunk it I will give you a lump of sugar to take away the taste."
"Where is the lump of sugar?"
"Here it is," said the Fairy, taking a piece from a gold sugar-basin.
"Give me first the lump of sugar and then I will drink that bad bitter water."
"Do you promise me?"
"Yes."
The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, having crunched it up and swallowed it in a second, said, licking his lips:
"It would be a fine thing if sugar were medicine! I would take it every day."
"Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water, which will restore you to health."
Pinocchio took the tumbler unwillingly in his hand and put the point of his nose to it: he then approached it to his lips: he then again put his nose to it, and at last said:
"It is too bitter! too bitter! I cannot drink it."
"How can you tell that, when you have not even tasted it?"
"I can imagine it! I know it from the smell. I want first another lump of sugar and then I will drink it!"
The Fairy then, with all the patience of a good mamma, put another lump of sugar in his mouth, and again presented the tumbler to him.
"I cannot drink it so!" said the puppet, making a thousand grimaces.
"Why?"
"Because that pillow that is down there on my feet bothers me."
The Fairy removed the pillow.
"It is useless. Even so I cannot drink it."
"What is the matter now?"
"The door of the room, which is half open, bothers me."
The Fairy went and closed the door.
"In short," cried Pinocchio, bursting into tears, "I will not drink that bitter water—no, no, no!"
"My boy, you will repent it."
"I don't care."
"Your illness is serious."
"I don't care."
"The fever in a few hours will carry you into the other world."
"I don't care."
"Are you not afraid of death?"
"I am not in the least afraid! I would rather die than drink that bitter medicine."
At that moment the door of the room flew open and four rabbits as black as ink entered carrying on their shoulders a little bier.
"What do you want with me?" cried Pinocchio, sitting up in bed in a great fright.
"We have come to take you," said the biggest rabbit.
"To take me? But I am not yet dead!"
"No, not yet? but you have only a few minutes to live, as you have refused the medicine that would have cured you of the fever."
"Oh, Fairy, Fairy!" the puppet then began to scream, "give me the tumbler at once; be quick, for pity's sake, for I will not die—no, I will not die."
And, taking the tumbler in both hands, he emptied it at a gulp.
"We must have patience!" said the rabbits; "this time we have made our journey in vain." And, taking the little bier again on their shoulders, they left the room, grumbling and murmuring between their teeth.
In fact, a few minutes afterwards, Pinocchio jumped down from the bed quite well, because wooden puppets have the privilege of being seldom ill and of being cured very quickly.
The Fairy, seeing him running and rushing about the room as gay and as lively as a young cock, said to him:
"Then my medicine has really done you good?"
"Good? I should think so! It has restored me to life!"
"Then why on earth did you require so much persuasion to take it?"
"Because you see that we boys are all like that! We are more afraid of medicine than of the illness."
"Disgraceful! Boys ought to know that a good remedy taken in time may save them from a serious illness, and perhaps even from death."
"Oh! but another time I shall not require so much persuasion. I shall remember those black rabbits with the bier on their shoulders and then I shall immediately take the tumbler in my hand, and down it will go!"
"Now, come here to me and tell me how it came about that you fell into the hands of those assassins."
"You see, the showman, Fire-Eater, gave me some gold pieces and said to me: 'Go, and take them to your father!' and instead I met on the road a Fox and a Cat, who said to me: 'Would you like those pieces of gold to become a thousand or two? Come with us and we will take you to the Field of Miracles,' and I said: 'Let us go.' And they said: 'Let us stop at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish,' and after midnight they left. And when I awoke I found that they were no longer there, because they had gone away. Then I began to travel by night, for you cannot imagine how dark it was; and on that account I met on the road two assassins in charcoal sacks who said to me: 'Out with your money,' and I said to them: 'I have got none,' because I had hidden the four gold pieces in my mouth, and one of the assassins tried to put his hand in my mouth, and I bit his hand off and spat it out, but instead of a hand it was a cat's paw. And the assassins ran after me, and I ran, and ran, until at last they caught me and tied me by the neck to a tree in this wood, and said to me: 'Tomorrow we shall return here and then you will be dead with your mouth open and we shall be able to carry off the pieces of gold that you have hidden under your tongue."
"And the four pieces—where have you put them?" asked the Fairy.
"I have lost them!" said Pinocchio, but he was telling a lie, for he had them in his pocket.
He had scarcely told the lie when his nose, which was already long, grew at once two inches longer.
"And where did you lose them?"
"In the wood near here."
At this second lie his nose went on growing.
"If you have lost them in the wood near here," said the Fairy, "we will look for them and we shall find them: because everything that is lost in that wood is always found."
"Ah! now I remember all about it," replied the puppet, getting quite confused; "I didn't lose the four gold pieces, I swallowed them whilst I was drinking your medicine."
At this lie his nose grew to such an extraordinary length that poor Pinocchio could not move in any direction. If he turned to one side he struck his nose against the bed or the window-panes, if he turned to the other he struck it against the walls or the door, if he raised his head a little he ran the risk of sticking it into one of the Fairy's eyes.
And the Fairy looked at him and laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the puppet, very confused and anxious at finding his nose growing so prodigiously.
"I am laughing at the lie you have told."
"And how can you possibly know that I have told a lie?"
"Lies, my dear boy, are found out immediately, because they are of two sorts. There are lies that have short legs, and lies that have long noses. Your lie, as it happens, is one of those that have a long nose."
Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide himself for shame, tried to run out of the room; but he did not succeed, for his nose had increased so much that it could no longer pass through the door.
SPLASH! SPLASH! THEY FELL INTO THE VERY MIDDLE OF THE DITCH
Treacherous Companions
The Fairy allowed the puppet to cry for a good half-hour over his nose, which could no longer pass through the door of the room. This she did to give him a severe lesson, and to correct him of the disgraceful fault of telling lies—the most disgraceful fault that a boy can have. But when she saw him quite disfigured and his eyes swollen out of his head from weeping, she felt full of compassion for him. She therefore beat her hands together and at that signal a thousand large birds called Woodpeckers flew in at the window. They immediately perched on Pinocchio's nose and began to peck at it with such zeal that in a few minutes his enormous and ridiculous nose was reduced to its usual dimensions.
"What a good Fairy you are," said the puppet, drying his eyes, "and how much I love you!"
"I love you also," answered the Fairy; "and if you will remain with me you shall be my little brother and I will be your good little sister."
"I would remain willingly if it were not for my poor papa."
"I have thought of everything. I have already let your father know, and he will be here tonight."
"Really?" shouted Pinocchio, jumping for joy. "Then, little Fairy, if you consent, I should like to go and meet him. I am so anxious to give a kiss to that poor old man, who has suffered so much on my account, that I am counting the minutes."
"Go, then, but be careful not to lose yourself. Take the road through the wood and I am sure that you will meet him."
Pinocchio set out, and as soon as he was in the wood he began to run like a kid. But when he had reached a certain spot, almost in front of the Big Oak, he stopped, because he thought he heard people amongst the bushes. In fact, two persons came out on to the road. Can you guess who they were? His two traveling companions, the Fox and the Cat, with whom he had supped at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish.
"Why, here is our dear Pinocchio!" cried the Fox, kissing and embracing him. "How came you to be here?"
"How come you to be here?" repeated the Cat.
"It is a long story," answered the puppet, "which I will tell you when I have time. But do you know that the other night, when you left me alone at the inn, I met with assassins on the road?"
"Assassins! Oh, poor Pinocchio! And what did they want?"
"They wanted to rob me of my gold pieces."
"Villains!" said the Fox.
"Infamous villains!" repeated the Cat.
"But I ran away from them," continued the puppet, "and they followed me, and at last they overtook me and hung me to a branch of that oak tree."
And Pinocchio pointed to the Big Oak, which was two steps from them.
"Is it possible to hear of anything more dreadful?" said the Fox. "In what a world we are condemned to live! Where can respectable people like us find a safe refuge?"
Whilst they were thus talking Pinocchio observed that the Cat was lame of her front right leg, for in fact she had lost her paw with all its claws. He therefore asked her:
"What have you done with your paw?"
The Cat tried to answer, but became confused. Therefore the Fox said immediately:
"My friend is too modest, and that is why she doesn't speak. I will answer for her. I must tell you that an hour ago we met an old wolf on the road, almost fainting from want of food, who asked alms of us. Not having so much as a fish-bone to give him, what did my friend, who has really the heart of a Cæsar, do? She bit off one of her fore paws and threw it to that poor beast that he might appease his hunger."
And the Fox, in relating this, dried a tear.
Pinocchio was also touched and, approaching the Cat, he whispered into her ear:
"If all cats resembled you, how fortunate the mice would be!"
"And now, what are you doing here?" asked the Fox of the puppet.
"I am waiting for my papa, whom I expect to arrive every moment."
"And your gold pieces?"
"I have got them in my pocket, all but one that I spent at the inn of The Red Craw-Fish."
"And to think that, instead of four pieces, by tomorrow they might become one or two thousand! Why do you not listen to my advice? Why will you not go and bury them in the Field of Miracles?"
"Today it is impossible; I will go another day."
"Another day it will be too late!" said the Fox.
"Why?"
"Because the field has been bought by a gentleman and after tomorrow no one will be allowed to bury money there."
"How far off is the Field of Miracles?"
"Not two miles. Will you come with us? In half an hour you will be there. You can bury your money at once, and in a few minutes you will collect two thousand, and this evening you will return with your pockets full. Will you come with us?"
Pinocchio thought of the good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the warnings of the Talking-Cricket, and he hesitated a little before answering. He ended, however, by doing as all boys do who have not a grain of sense and who have no heart—he ended by giving his head a little shake and saying to the Fox and the Cat:
"Let us go: I will come with you."
And they went.
After having walked half the day they reached a town that was called "Trap for Blockheads." As soon as Pinocchio entered this town he saw that the streets were crowded with dogs who were yawning from hunger, shorn sheep trembling with cold, cocks without combs begging for a grain of Indian corn, large butterflies that could no longer fly because they had sold their beautiful colored wings, peacocks which had no tails and were ashamed to be seen, and pheasants that went scratching about in a subdued fashion, mourning for their brilliant gold and silver feathers gone forever.
In the midst of this crowd of beggars and shamefaced creatures some lordly carriage passed from time to time containing a Fox, or a thieving Magpie, or some other ravenous bird of prey.
"And where is the Field of Miracles?" asked Pinocchio.
"It is here, not two steps from us."
They crossed the town and, having gone beyond the walls, they came to a solitary field.
"Here we are," said the Fox to the puppet. "Now stoop down and dig with your hands a little hole in the ground and put your gold pieces into it."
Pinocchio obeyed. He dug a hole, put into it the four gold pieces that he had left, and then filled up the hole with a little earth.
"Now, then," said the Fox, "go to that canal close to us, fetch a can of water, and water the ground where you have sowed them."
Pinocchio went to the canal, and, as he had no can, he took off one of his old shoes and filling it with water he watered the ground over the hole.
He then asked:
"Is there anything else to be done?"
"Nothing else," answered the Fox. "We can now go away. You can return in about twenty minutes and you will find a shrub already pushing through the ground, with its branches quite loaded with money."
The poor puppet, beside himself with joy, thanked the Fox and the Cat a thousand times, and promised them a beautiful present.
"We wish for no presents," answered the two rascals. "It is enough for us to have taught you the way to enrich yourself without undergoing hard work, and we are as happy as people out for a holiday."
Thus saying, they took leave of Pinocchio, and, wishing him a good harvest, went about their business.
The Judge Was a Big Ape
The puppet returned to the town and began to count the minutes one by one, and when he thought that it must be time he took the road leading to the Field of Miracles.
And as he walked along with hurried steps his heart beat fast—tic, tac, tic, tac—like a drawing-room clock when it is really going well. Meanwhile he was thinking to himself:
"And if, instead of a thousand gold pieces, I were to find on the branches of the tree two thousand? And instead of two thousand, supposing I found five thousand? and instead of five thousand, that I found a hundred thousand? Oh! what a fine gentleman I should then become! I would have a beautiful palace, a thousand little wooden horses and a thousand stables to amuse myself with, a cellar full of currant wine and sweet syrups, and a library quite full of candies, tarts, plum-cakes, macaroons, and biscuits with cream."
Whilst he was building these castles in the air he had arrived in the neighborhood of the field, and he stopped to look about for a tree with its branches laden with money, but he saw nothing. He advanced another hundred steps—nothing; he entered the field and went right up to the little hole where he had buried his sovereigns—and nothing. He then became very thoughtful and, forgetting the rules of society and good manners, he took his hands out of his pocket and gave his head a long scratch.
At that moment he heard an explosion of laughter close to him and, looking up, he saw a large Parrot perched on a tree, who was pruning the few feathers he had left.
"Why are you laughing?" asked Pinocchio in an angry voice.
"I am laughing because in pruning my feathers I tickled myself under my wings."
The puppet did not answer, but went to the canal and, filling the same old shoe full of water, he proceeded to water the earth afresh that covered his gold pieces.
While he was thus occupied another laugh, still more impertinent than the first, rang out in the silence of that solitary place.
"Once for all," shouted Pinocchio in a rage, "may I know, you ill-educated Parrot, what you are laughing at?"
"I am laughing at those simpletons who believe in all the foolish things that are told them, and who allow themselves to be entrapped by those who are more cunning than they are."
"Are you perhaps speaking of me?"
"Yes, I am speaking of you, poor Pinocchio—of you who are simple enough to believe that money can be sown and gathered in fields in the same way as beans and gourds. I also believed it once and today I am suffering for it. Today—but it is too late—I have at last learned that to put a few pennies honestly together it is necessary to know how to earn them, either by the work of our own hands or by the cleverness of our own brains."
"I don't understand you," said the puppet, who was already trembling with fear.
"Have patience! I will explain myself better," rejoined the Parrot. "You must know, then, that while you were in the town the Fox and the Cat returned to the field; they took the buried money and then fled like the wind. And now he that catches them will be clever."
Pinocchio remained with his mouth open and, not choosing to believe the Parrot's words, he began with his hands and nails to dig up the earth that he had watered. And he dug, and dug, and dug, and made such a deep hole that a rick of straw might have stood upright in it, but the money was no longer there.
He rushed back to the town in a state of desperation and went at once to the Courts of Justice to denounce the two knaves who had robbed him to the judge.
The judge was a big ape of the gorilla tribe, an old ape respectable for his age, his white beard, but especially for his gold spectacles without glasses that he was always obliged to wear, on account of an inflammation of the eyes that had tormented him for many years.
Pinocchio related in the presence of the judge all the particulars of the infamous fraud of which he had been the victim. He gave the names, the surnames, and other details, of the two rascals, and ended by demanding justice.
The judge listened with great benignity; took a lively interest in the story; was much touched and moved; and when the puppet had nothing further to say he stretched out his hand and rang a bell.
At this summons two mastiffs immediately appeared dressed as gendarmes. The judge then, pointing to Pinocchio, said to them:
"That poor devil has been robbed of four gold pieces; take him away and put him immediately into prison."
The puppet was petrified on hearing this unexpected sentence and tried to protest; but the gendarmes, to avoid losing time, stopped his mouth and carried him off to the lockup.
And there he remained for four months—four long months—and he would have remained longer still if a fortunate chance had not released him. The young Emperor who reigned over the town of "Trap for Blockheads," having won a splendid victory over his enemies, ordered great public rejoicings. There were illuminations, fireworks, horse races and velocipede races, and as a further sign of triumph he commanded that the prisons should be opened and all the prisoners freed.
"If the others are to be let out of prison, I will go also," said Pinocchio to the jailor.
"No, not you," said the jailor, "because you do not belong to the fortunate class."
"I beg your pardon," replied Pinocchio, "I am also a criminal."
"In that case you are perfectly right," said the jailor, and, taking off his hat and bowing to him respectfully, he opened the prison doors and let him escape.
You can imagine Pinocchio's joy when he found himself free. Without stopping to take breath he immediately left the town and took the road that led to the Fairy's house.
On account of the rainy weather the road had become a marsh into which he sank knee-deep. But the puppet would not give in. Tormented by the desire of seeing his father and his little sister with blue hair again, he ran on like a greyhound, and as he ran he was splashed with mud from head to foot. And he said to himself as he went along: "How many misfortunes have happened to me. But I deserved them, for I am an obstinate, passionate puppet. I am always bent upon having my own way, without listening to those who wish me well, and who have a thousand times more sense than I have! But from this time forth I am determined to change and to become orderly and obedient. For at last I have seen that disobedient boys come to no good and gain nothing. And has my papa waited for me? Shall I find him at the Fairy's house? Poor man, it is so long since I last saw him: I am dying to embrace him and to cover him with kisses! And will the Fairy forgive me my bad conduct to her? To think of all the kindness and loving care I received from her, to think that if I am now alive I owe it to her! Would it be possible to find a more ungrateful boy, or one with less heart than I have?"
Whilst he was saying this he stopped suddenly, frightened to death, and made four steps backwards.
What had he seen?
He had seen an immense Serpent stretched across the road. Its skin was green, it had red eyes, and a pointed tail that was smoking like a chimney.
It would be impossible to imagine the puppet's terror. He walked away to a safe distance and, sitting down on a heap of stones, waited until the Serpent should have gone about its business and left the road clear.
He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always there, and even from a distance he could see the red light of his fiery eyes and the column of smoke that ascended from the end of his tail.
At last Pinocchio, trying to feel courageous, approached to within a few steps, and said to the Serpent in a little soft, insinuating voice:
"Excuse me. Sir Serpent, but would you be so good as to move a little to one side—just enough to allow me to pass?"
He might as well have spoken to the wall. Nobody moved.
He began again in the same soft voice:
"You must know. Sir Serpent, that I am on my way home, where my father is waiting for me, and it is such a long time since I saw him last! Will you, therefore, allow me to continue my road?"
He waited for a sign in answer to this request, but there was none; in fact, the Serpent, who up to that moment had been sprightly and full of life, became motionless and almost rigid. He shut his eyes and his tail ceased smoking.
"Can he really be dead?" said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands with delight. He determined to jump over him and reach the other side of the road. But, just as he was going to leap, the Serpent raised himself suddenly on end, like a spring set in motion; and the puppet, drawing back, in his terror caught his feet and fell to the ground.
And he fell so awkwardly that his head stuck in the mud and his legs went into the air.
At the sight of the puppet kicking violently with his head in the mud, the Serpent went into convulsions of laughter, and laughed, and laughed, until he broke a blood-vessel in his chest and died. And that time he was really dead.
Pinocchio then set off running, in hopes that he should reach the Fairy's house before dark. But before long he began to suffer so dreadfully from hunger that he could not bear it, and he jumped into a field by the wayside, intending to pick some bunches of Muscatel grapes. Oh, that he had never done it!
He had scarcely reached the vines when crack—his legs were caught between two cutting iron bars and he became so giddy with pain that stars of every color danced before his eyes.
The poor puppet had been taken in a trap put there to capture some big polecats which were the scourge of the poultry-yards in the neighborhood.
Pinocchio Gets His Foot Caught in a Trap
Pinocchio began to cry and scream, but his tears and groans were useless, for there was not a house to be seen, and not a living soul passed down the road.
At last night came on.
Partly from the pain of the trap, that cut his legs, and a little from fear at finding himself alone in the dark in the midst of the fields, the puppet was on the point of fainting. Just at that moment he saw a Firefly flitting over his head. He called to it and said:
"Oh, little Firefly, will you have pity on me and liberate me from this torture?"
"Poor boy!" said the Firefly, stopping and looking at him with compassion; "but how could your legs have been caught by those sharp irons?"
"I came into the field to pick two bunches of these Muscatel grapes, and—"
"But were the grapes yours?"
"No."
"Then who taught you to carry off other people's property?"
"I was so hungry."
"Hunger, my boy, is not a good reason for appropriating what does not belong to us."
"That is true, that is true!" said Pinocchio, crying. "I will never do it again."
At this moment their conversation was interrupted by a slight sound of approaching footsteps. It was the owner of the field coming on tiptoe to see if one of the polecats that ate his chickens during the night had been caught in his trap.
His astonishment was great when, having brought out his lantern from under his coat, he perceived that instead of a polecat a boy had been taken.
"Ah, little thief," said the angry peasant, "then it is you who carries off my chickens?"
"No, it is not I; indeed it is not!" cried Pinocchio, sobbing. "I only came into the field to take two bunches of grapes!"
"He who steals grapes is quite capable of stealing chickens. Leave it to me, I will give you a lesson that you will not forget in a hurry."
Opening the trap, he seized the puppet by the collar and carried him to his house as if he had been a young lamb.
When he reached the yard in front of the house he threw him roughly on the ground and, putting his foot on his neck, he said to him:
"It is late and I want to go to bed; we will settle our accounts tomorrow. In the meanwhile, as the dog who kept guard at night died today, you shall take his place at once. You shall be my watch-dog."
And, taking a great collar covered with brass knobs, he strapped it so tightly round his throat that he was not able to draw his head out of it. A heavy chain attached to the collar was fastened to the wall.
"If it should rain tonight," he then said to him, "you can go and lie down in the kennel; the straw that has served as a bed for my poor dog for the last four years is still there. If unfortunately robbers should come, remember to keep your ears pricked and to bark."
After giving him this last injunction the man went into the house, shut the door, and put up the chain.
Poor Pinocchio remained lying on the ground more dead than alive from the effects of cold, hunger and fear. From time to time he put his hands angrily to the collar that tightened his throat and said, crying:
"It serves me right! Decidedly, it serves me right! I was determined to be a vagabond and a good-for-nothing. I would listen to bad companions, and that is why I always meet with misfortunes. If I had been a good little boy, as so many are; if I had remained at home with my poor papa, I should not now be in the midst of the fields and obliged to be the watch-dog to a peasant's house. Oh, if I could be born again! But now it is too late and I must have patience!"
Relieved by this little outburst, which came straight from his heart, he went into the dog-kennel and fell asleep.
The New Watch-Dog
He had been sleeping heavily for about two hours when, towards midnight, he was aroused by a whispering of strange voices that seemed to come from the courtyard. Putting the point of his nose out of the kennel, he saw four little beasts with dark fur, that looked like cats, standing consulting together. But they were not cats; they were polecats—carnivorous little animals, especially greedy for eggs and young chickens. One of the polecats, leaving his companions, came to the opening of the kennel and said in a low voice:
"Good evening, Melampo."
"My name is not Melampo," answered the puppet.
"Oh! then who are you?"
"I am Pinocchio."
"And what are you doing here?"
"I am acting as watch-dog."
"Then where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who lived in this kennel?"
"He died this morning."
"Is he dead? Poor beast! He was so good. But, judging you by your face, I should say that you were also a good dog."
"I beg your pardon, I am not a dog."
"Not a dog? Then what are you?"
"I am a puppet."
"And you are acting as watch-dog?"
"That is only too true—as a punishment."
"Well, then, I will offer you the same conditions that we made with the deceased Melampo, and I am sure you will be satisfied with them."
"What are these conditions?"
"One night in every week you are to permit us to visit this poultry-yard as we have hitherto done, and to carry off eight chickens. Of these chickens seven are to be eaten by us, and one we will give to you, on the express understanding, however, that you pretend to be asleep, and that it never enters your head to bark and to waken the peasant."
"Did Melampo act in this manner?" asked Pinocchio.
"Certainly, and we were always on the best terms with him. Sleep quietly, and rest assured that before we go we will leave by the kennel a beautiful chicken ready plucked for your breakfast tomorrow. Have we understood each other clearly?"
"Only too clearly!" answered Pinocchio, and he shook his head threateningly, as much as to say: "You shall hear of this shortly!"
The four polecats, thinking themselves safe, repaired to the poultry-yard, which was close to the kennel, and, having opened the wooden gate with their teeth and claws, they slipped in one by one. But they had only just passed through when they heard the gate shut behind them with great violence.
It was Pinocchio who had shut it, and for greater security he put a large stone against it to keep it closed.
He then began to bark, and he barked exactly like a watch-dog: "Bow-wow, bow-wow."
Hearing the barking, the peasant jumped out of bed and, taking his gun, he came to the window and asked:
"What is the matter?"
"There are robbers!" answered Pinocchio.
"Where are they?"
"In the poultry-yard."
"I will come down directly."
In fact, in less time than it takes to say "Amen!" the peasant came down. He rushed into the poultry-yard, caught the polecats, and, having put them into a sack, he said to them in a tone of great satisfaction:
"At last you have fallen into my hands! I might punish you, but I am not so cruel. I will content myself instead by carrying you in the morning to the innkeeper of the neighboring village, who will skin and cook you as hares with a sweet and sour sauce. It is an honor that you don't deserve, but generous people like me don't consider such trifles!"
He then approached Pinocchio and began to caress him, and amongst other things he asked him:
"How did you manage to discover the four thieves? To think that Melampo, my faithful Melampo, never found out anything!"
The puppet might then have told him the whole story; he might have informed him of the disgraceful conditions that had been made between the dog and the polecats; but he remembered that the dog was dead and he thought to himself:
"What is the good of accusing the dead? The dead are dead, and the best thing to be done is to leave them in peace!"
"When the thieves got into the yard, were you asleep or awake?" the peasant went on to ask him.
"I was asleep," answered Pinocchio, "but the polecats woke me with their chatter and one of them came to the kennel and said to me: 'If you promise not to bark, and not to wake the master, we will make you a present of a fine chicken ready plucked!' To think that they should have had the audacity to make such a proposal to me! For, although I am a puppet, possessing perhaps nearly all the faults in the world, there is one that I certainly will never be guilty of, that of making terms with, and sharing the gains of, dishonest people!"
"Well said, my boy!" cried the peasant, slapping him on the shoulder. "Such sentiments do you honor; and as a proof of my gratitude I will at once set you at liberty, and you may return home."
And he removed the dog-collar.