Dark
"And now I am ready," he muttered, contentedly; "now let them come on. I'm not afraid of any one, not even of the snow. There's no denying it—my idea was magnificent. If that simpleton Toni Salandra had had one as good he would have saved the Ministry. Two feet of rope and the trench is saved. With two soldi's worth of soap he could have saved the finest Parliament our poor country has ever seen....It's queer that I haven't the slightest sensation of fear.... It's dark, but I seem to see as well as by day. It must be that a sentinel's duty clears the sight. I could swear that I could see a flea a mile away. Besides, my duty is simple: I am to stay here and do nothing; I am not to get my feet frozen, and as far as that is concerned there's no danger; and I am to look out for white moving on black or black on white. Then,ta-pum,ta-pum,ta-pum, like this morning, then throw myself on the ground and creep back to the trench like acat.... What a fire we kept up this morning, I and Ciampanella! He fired so often and so vigorously that he ended by falling over with fright.... If he hadn't had to sleep off his fatigue I couldn't have done the fine deed I'm doing. I am sure he wouldn't have let me get cold like this ... because ... I didn't feel it at first, but now I feel chills creeping up my spine!"
When Pinocchio stuck his hand into his pocket it touched the rounded form of the thermos bottle. He took it out, put it to his lips, and drank a mouthful. Five minutes later the boy felt the heat mounting to his brain as if he were at the mouth of a furnace.
"Ah-ha! That's good! When I am a general like Win-the-War I'll heat the railway compartment with coffee instead of with a radiator. I wish they'd 'murder' the garments I got on, as Ciampanella says: When I think that he made me run the risk of having eight bullets in my stomach I don't know what to do. But before I would have him burned up, it would be nice to sleep here under this upholstered seat, with the lullaby of the train that sounds as if my nurse were singing it. If he found me now I should liketo drop into one of those dozes from which even Ciampanella'sta-pumwouldn't wake me.... If I go to sleep I'll be cold. That tyrant of a Scotimondo would just as lief wake me up with a revolver at my head.... I'd like to know what's the fun of keeping a poor sentinel out in the cold where there's nothing to watch, because I bet a soldo against a lira that the Austrians are sleeping soundly to-night—I seem to hear them snoring like so many suckling pigs.... No, I said I wouldn't go to sleep, and to keep my word I won't go to sleep, but I can allow myself a nod, just a little nod. There's no black on white, or white on black; it seems to me to be getting more cloudy ... so that ... Scotimondo? But what is it? I am no Napoleon ... he said it. But even Napoleon when he found a sleeping sentinel took his gun and waited till he waked up. He would do the same ... with the difference that I haven't any gun ... so that ... not so much noise ... Scotimon ...? but where is Scotmona ... Scoti ... mon ... do..."
Just at this moment the snow began to fall gently, so gently, and as dry as flourjust from the mill. The corporal, who was about to set out on his usual tour of inspection, glanced at the sky, then growled, as he rubbed his hands: "The Austrians won't come out in such weather. It will be a foot thick in less than an hour. I'll go and sleep, myself."
An Explosion
Pinocchio woke up with a start. It was dawn!... He found himself buried in the snow up to his chest. He looked about and could no longer see the enemy's trench; he looked behind him and couldn't recognize the Italian post. What under the heavens had happened? He was on the point of becoming despondent and ready to give the alarm when on the side of the enemy's position in the wide wedge-sloped cleft, which looked like an exclamation point drawn with charcoal on an immense white sheet, he thought he saw a curious movement like many ants. He fixed his eyes on it, and while his heart beat so loudly that he thought he would suffocate, he concentrated all his attention, all his mind, on the point there below. He saw the jagged rock swarming with Alpine troops, saw little clusters of men suspendedover the abyss, and ropes hanging in space slowly lifting up soldiers; and at the sight of this miracle of daring and dexterity he naturally forgot the fear of his wakening. Anxiously he followed the maneuvers of these brave sons of Italy, saw them suddenly disappear.... Then a cry of terror rose from the enemy's trench, a rattle of guns and almost at the same moment two or three hundred Austrians were in flight and flinging themselves on the slope, pursued by a steady fire. It was time to give the alarm. Pinocchio wanted to let out one of his extraordinaryta-pums, but just then a terrible explosion shook the earth and clouded the sky.... A horrible yell, a cryfrom hundreds of throats struck him to the marrow ... then there was silence.
Captain Teschisso, returning victorious from his expedition, found Pinocchio there, and tenderly gave him first aid, but, seeing that he didn't come to, he intrusted him to four soldiers, saying:
"Take him to the first ambulance, with Draghetta and the other wounded, and tell the surgeon to care for him as my best friend. Poor youngster, who will have to have another wooden leg! But we have avenged him and given those dogs what they deserved. Heavens, what a fight!"
Many Deeds and Few Words
My dear little friends, I won't stop to show you Pinocchio in the sad surroundings of a hospital. I will tell you only that he stayed there for more than two months, and that he left it with his two wooden legs, new and well oiled, and that Fatina, by a curious coincidence, was his careful and affectionate nurse, and that Ciampanella, playing the part of a good friend, did not fail to make him frequent visits, bringing with him certain samples of camp cookery which enraptured Pinocchio. His surgeon was a most polite Piedmontese, always bowing and salaaming, who announced to him with all formality the misfortune which had again overtaken him and asked his permission two days in advance to amputate his frozen leg.
"All right," exclaimed Pinocchio, "goahead. I've got accustomed to such trifles now. But you must do me a favor."
"Let me hear it."
"When you give me my new wooden leg I want it to be longer than usual and that naturally you change the other one, too."
"Why?"
"Because I'd feel as if I were on stilts and it would amuse me to death to take steps longer than any one else."
He was satisfied and left the hospital with such long legs that he was almost as tall as Ciampanella, who took Pinocchio's arm in his as if he were his sweetheart.
"Heh, youngster, but you have grown! And then they say that we non-combatants never do anything! I haven't done anything, but if I were the one I have in mind I would bestow on you the medal for bravery because your legs have won it. I tell you, I, who know what I am talking about."
"Even if they don't give me anything, I am satisfied all the same. All I ask is for them to leave me here and not send me home."
"Come with me and I'll appoint you first adjutant of the mess kitchen, and when Ihave taught you how and put the ladle in your handwe will live on the fat of the landand will make meat-balls with our leavings for the general, and when we don't know what else to do we'll write theManual of War Cookery, which I won't risk now because I haven't a writing hand, as the saying is."
"Listen, Ciampanella, I am as grateful as if you had offered to lend me a hundred lire without interest, but just now I can't accept."
"Why?"
"Because it requires a special constitution to be a cook. I'd be all right as far as eating the best morsels was concerned, but it would be dangerous for me to stay near the stove. I am half wooden and run the risk of catching on fire. I should have to decide to take out insurance against fire. Moreover, let's consider. To-day I have other views. Fatina here has given me a letter for my friend Bersaglierino, who is at headquarters as the war correspondent of an important newspaper. We'll see what he advises me to do."
They parted good friends after a solemn feast which almost made Ciampanella rollunder the table, like an ancient Roman at one of the banquets of Lucullus or Nero.
At Table with Bersaglierino
Bersaglierino was truly delighted to see his dear little friend again and kept him with him several days for company. From him he learned a number of things he didn't know. One day he asked him:
"Tell me, Pinocchio, do you know the reason for this war in which you, too, have played your small part and to which you have paid tribute of part of yourself?"
"Do you imagine I don't know? It isto make Italy bigger."
"And that seems a just reason to you?"
"That's what every one says."
"All those who don't know what they are talking about. If every nation had the right to let loose a war for the sole purpose of enlarging her boundaries we'd have to take off our hats to the Germans who provoked the present curse for their own purposes. We have other and nobler ideals. We have brothers to liberate, peoples to free from a foreign yoke. Certain lands which are ours because they were enriched by the labors of our fathers, because our Italian tongue is spoken in them, were until to-day exploited by the enemy, who sought in every way to embitter the existence of our brothers, paying with contempt and scorn, with persecution and oppression, their loyalty and love for the mother-country. Italian unity, begun in the revolutionary movement of 1811, was not completed in 1870 with the taking of Rome. The jealousy of other nations halted us on our way to emancipation. We were too weak then to make our will felt; we were exhausted with fifty years of continuous fighting and we had need of a little rest in order to restore our energy. To-day we are strong enough to stand up for ourrights. Neither underhand dealings of wicked men nor betrayal by partizans will prevent the victory of our arms. Italy will be retempered in the war. Our destiny will be fulfilled.
"I see as in a dream our borders which have been overrun won back to us, Trent bleeding with Italian blood, Goriza twice redeemed, Trieste in the shadow of the tricolor. Istria awaits us impatiently; Parenzo is preparing the way for us to Pola, which we shall take intact, with the defenses the Austrians erected there against our own brothers. Zara, Sebenico, and the coast of Dalmatia, which for so many centuries displayed the glorious insignia of the Lion of St. Mark, are longing impatiently for the moment which shall reunite them to the mother-country, that for them and with them will grow ever greater. War is a curse; this one which is being fought to-day all over the civilized world is perhaps the most terrible which humanity has ever known; yet it will not fail to bring great blessings. It has awakened the consciences of peoples and revealed the virtues and the defects of particular races. In the contest of the ancient Latin civilization with theTeuton power the might of right has been re-established, the right that has been trampled upon by force...."
And so on and so on, for when Bersaglierino began to argue there was no way of stopping him, and Pinocchio stood there listening with his mouth open like a peasant absorbed by the wonderful discourse of a fakir at a fair. And who knows how long he would have stood there, but Bersaglierino had so much to do and was obliged to leave him alone, letting him stay in the rear where he could follow the progress of the war without exposing himself too much, but where he could still be doing important service for his country. He put him in the care of a captain of the commissary department, a good friend of his who had the unlucky idea of making him a baker in a camp bakery. He stayed there only two days, astounded at the enormous quantity of bread which was kneaded and baked all the time. All he did was to give a hand in filling the baskets which were loaded on automobiles that carried the bread to the front. The third day he made a figure of dough that looked like the twin brother of the captain, put it in the ovenand, when it was baked, set it astraddle on the cup of coffee poured out for that officer, then hid himself behind a curtain to take part in the welcome which would certainly be given to his most valuable work of art. But the commissary officer's orderly found him and wanted to dust his trousers and pull his ears. He never succeeded in doing this. Pinocchio helped him out of the house with kicks and then hurled him into the flour-barrel. If they had not pulled him out in time he would have suffocated.
The boy fled on the first automobile which left for the front, and for several days whirled back and forth between the front and rear lines, going forward on the supply automobiles and returning on the Red Cross ambulances which brought the wounded to the first-aid posts. The drivers were glad to take him on their machines because he kept them all jolly with his pranks, and he, better than any one, was able to get an idea of the gigantic and wonderful work which was being done side by side with the army which was fighting for the defense of its country. What profound respect for discipline, what order, what spirit ofself-sacrifice in those brave soldiers (almost all fathers of families), continually exposed to bad weather, to the hardest fatigues, to the most complete privations! Rain, snow, ice, tornadoes of wind and of shot and shell, nothing succeeded in interrupting for a single minute the interminably long chain of wagons and lorries that carried food to the trenches, ammunition to the artillery, and cannon to the fortified positions. The drivers, dead with sleep, soaked with rain, shivering with cold, remained calmly at their wheels and at the heads of their horses. When the great caravan stopped for a moment for any reason these men, revived with new energy and by the force of their will, started the huge mechanism on its way again.
For a little way Pinocchio thought he would become an automobile-driver, but when they told him that he would have to have a license and that, in order to get one, he would have to take a regular examination, he didn't proceed farther. Examiners he looked upon as even greater enemies than Franz Joe's hunters.
Distributing Letters
After pondering the subject a long time he decided to become a military postman.At first he took pleasure in it all. When he arrived it seemed as if heaven had come down to earth. He was received like a king, with joyous cries and shouts, and he walked between two rows of soldiers like a general. When he distributed the letters it was as if he conferred a favor; when he handed out a money-order he had an air of condescension as if he were doling the soldi from his purse. When he had finisheddistributing the mail he would let them pay him to read their letters. I can tell you it was not an easy matter. Often he had hieroglyphics to decipher which would have given trouble to a professor of paleontology. But Pinocchio had such a quick mind that when he found he couldn't puzzle it out he invented a letter and did it so well that he earned a soldo by it and the deep gratitude of his clients. What disgusted him with the business was the postal service, which suddenly became confoundedly bad, perhaps on account of a change in the Ministry. Pinocchio saw his popularity vanish in an instant, and the soldiers made him bear the brunt of their dissatisfaction. One day he heard so many complaints that he grew furious and flung away the bag he wore about his neck and cried out to those who were disputing around him:
"You are a bunch of imbeciles. Why do you come to me with your letters? Do you know what you ought to do? Go and get them, because I won't take another step for the sake of your pretty faces."
His ears were boxed again and again and he replied with as many kicks, but he didn'tplay postman any more. He was wondering to what new service he could dedicate himself when a corporal baker gave him this note:
Dear Pinocchio,—I am having the one who will hand you this write these lines so that he can tell you for me that I have a great longing to see you, because I am not well and I don't know what to do, and I sign myself your most affectionateCiampanella,Chief Mess-cook in the service of theCommander-in-chief.
Dear Pinocchio,—I am having the one who will hand you this write these lines so that he can tell you for me that I have a great longing to see you, because I am not well and I don't know what to do, and I sign myself your most affectionate
Ciampanella,Chief Mess-cook in the service of theCommander-in-chief.
Pinocchio was so affected by this letter that he set off at once in search of his friend. He found him in full performance of his noble functions, white, red, and flourishing as if he had come back the day before from taking the cure at Montecatini.
"Well?" he said in astonishment, after they had embraced.
"Well, youngster, I am here and I am not here in this beastly world."
"But, truly ..."
"You wouldn't say that I am on the downward path, to make use of the words of the chaplain, but Ciampanella is no longer himself. They have given me only a few months more to live. I don't mindfor myself, you know. I think that I shall be as well off there as I have been here.... But I am thinking of humanity."
"Nothing and a little less than nothing."
"No joking now, youngster. Without theManual of War Cookerywritten by Ciampanella humanity can never be happy, because with it men will eat and laugh, and when you laugh you spend willingly, and when you spend willingly you eat well.... So that ..."
"Why don't you write it?"
"First of all, because I lack the knowledge of handwriting, which you've got to do; that is why I sent for you, and then ... because I am afraid that I won't have time enough to dictate it all, because the surgeon-major who examined me said that I had a disease of the liver from eating too much, and that it would be the liver that would bring me to my grave if I didn't stop immediately living on the fat of the land and drink quantities of water. Listen, youngster, I have always had a great antipathy for liver, so much so that I never even put it in patties called Strasburg and which in myManualI will rechristen 'Austro-German Trenches with Reinforcements ofWar Bread and Ambushed in Jelly.' But that's not the point. As I tell you, I have always had a great antipathy to liver, but also for water, so much so, I'll tell you in confidence, that sometimes I don't even use it to wash my face in.
"So listen. Since they have brought me to this crossroads—either drink water and live or eat good things and let my liver take me to the next world—I have decided on the latter. Before dying I wanted to call you to my presence to tell you that as I have no one in the world I have been thinking of leaving you everything I possess: ten ladles, a carver, the change-purse, and the recipes for theManual, for which, when you publish it, they will give you at least the cross of a knight, that when you put it on will make, you feel 'way and ahead of those who look at you."
Saucepan Boiling Over
In short, Ciampanella said so much and did so much that he persuaded Pinocchio to stay with him. And certainly the boy could not find a better way of making himself useful to his country. The mess-cook was at the orders of a division. Each day he satisfied the hunger of four generals, six colonels, and a crowd ofmajors and captains of the General Staff. All these were men who had need of good eating that wouldn't cause indigestion. Pinocchio served ... as director of the mess. When he saw some saucepan boiling over, a pot too full, he quickly reduced them by tasting their contents generously. Sauces and ragoûts were his passion. Everynow and then you might have seen him dipping half a loaf of bread into the casseroles. One day a captain who was inspecting surprised him at this, and naturally he lit into Ciampanella about it, who threatened to quit the kitchen if they didn't leave him in peace.
"Do you understand, Mr. Captain? Do you imagine that standing over a fire is a great pleasure? I am beginning to believe that it is better to stay in the trenches and diewith a ball in the headthan in the rear when you come and ruin my comfort with your inspections. But do you know what I'll do? I'll hide the ladles in a place I know of and I'll take up a musket and you'll see what you'll see."
The captain had to slink off, speeded by the laughs of Pinocchio, whose nose was smeared and greasy and his mouth dripping with tomato sauce. Ciampanella, who was so lacking in respect to his superiors, obeyed the boy as if he were a head taller than he. Pinocchio had persuaded him to drink quarts of water and to take digestive tablets after his meals, and every morning a spoonful of salts in a glass of water as the surgeon-major had ordered. And he followed outthis prescription so carefully that he had noticed a wonderful improvement, and he kept a big bottle full of medicine among his cans of pepper and spices. This fact had several times started an idea in Pinocchio's whimsical pate, and several times he had been on the point of exchanging this medicine for the kitchen salt, but the thought of the serious consequences which might result had kept him from doing it. Moreover, Pinocchio was called more and more often to serve the mess-table and spent less time in the kitchen. The famous captain of the inspection had thought in this way to avenge himself upon that most insolent of semi-puppets, but, to tell you the truth, he didn't find it bad. Serving at table so many grand generals seemed to him almost an honor, and he was proud of it. When he handed the dishes to the highest officers he would make low bows; the captains he treated almost with disdain. He always tried to serve his "particular" captain the last, and when there was left in the dish scarcely enough to scrape out another portion he would whisper in his ear:
"Heh, Captain, blessed are those that are last!"
The captain fumed, but waited for the moment when he could give him a reprimand. He thought the time had come one morning when he found a fly in the stew.
"Come here, you little beast."
"Yes, sir; at your orders, sir."
"Look!" and he stuck the plate of stew two inches from his nose.
"There is no doubt, Captain, that it is a fly, a very vulgar fly," and sticking two fingers delicately into the sauce he pulled the insect out ... "a fly indeed! But you may consider yourself lucky because in the rations of your men there will be at least twenty of them. And those who fight don't think much of it. You do the same, Captain ... in war-time don't bother about such trifles."
A tank commander who was next to him laughed heartily. The captain, as green as a newly formed tomato, kept quiet and ate the stew.
That day there was a grand dinner for some French and British officers who had come on a mission to the front. Ciampanella had cooked one of his wonderful recipes. Pinocchio, who had stuck hisnose and tongue into all the pots and pans, swore that even the King's cook was not equal to producing such a dinner. And he, too, wished to do himself honor. He set the table in a grassy spot surrounded by high trees and thick hedges. It wasn't possible to find a more picturesque spot, shady and safe from curious eyes, from reporters, and—spies. It was a little distance from the kitchen, but distances didn't bother Pinocchio, whose legs, longer than ordinary ones, could take steps like a giant's. He decorated the table with wild flowers and wove between the branches of the trees the flags of Italy, France, England, and America, tied together with the colors of Belgium, dressed himself afresh, and prepared to display all his good manners.
All the high officers seated at the table made a wonderful sight. The uniforms, starred with crosses and ribbons, shining with gold and silver, were all the more sparkling against the green background of the trees and the meadow.
Pinocchio had served the finestconsomméwith the air of a head waiter in an expensive restaurant. When he returned toserve a magnificent capon in jelly shaped like a cannon surrounded by hearts of green lettuce which appeared on the menu under the name "William's Wishes, with Evasions of German Financiers," he was struck by a strange sight. All the diners had fled from the table and were going hurriedly behind the hedge, overcome with nausea. A terrible idea flashed through Pinocchio's mind. He turned around and, his capon in his hand, rushed to the kitchen.
"Ciampanella! Ciampanella!"
"What's the matter?"
"The medicine?"
"What's the medicine got to do with dinner?"
"What did you put in the soup?"
"Are you crazy, youngster? Be quiet and let the officers eat."
"Ciampanella, are you perfectly sure of yourself?"
"Why do you ask me if I am sure of myself?"
"Because ... the officers aren't eating."
"What are they doing?"
"Just come and see, because I don't understand about cooking."
They went running, but had scarcely passed the threshold when a bomb from an enemy airplane burst a few feet from them. They were hit in the chest by a column of air which turned them round, were hurled back into the kitchen, and buried beneath a shower of masonry.
Ciampanella remained buried there, to the great misfortune of humanity, who, after all, had to do without hisManual of War Cookery, but Pinocchio was dug out alive. He was carried hastily to the nearest ambulance station and fell into the hands of a splendid surgeon, who, after having set a slender fracture of the arm and of the breastbone, swore to save him in spite of fate. He hurriedly amputated an arm, and a fortnight later in the hospital of a near-by city they extracted the broken ribs, for which they substituted two silver plates.
When Fatina and the Bersaglierino hurried to his bed to help him and cheer him they found themselves face to face with a poor creature who, with his artificial legs, arm, and breast, seemed indeed ... a wooden puppet.
But Pinocchio was still himself, humorous,lively, and mischievous. When he noticed that Fatina was looking at him with her big blue eyes full of tears and pity, he shrugged his shoulders and, scratching his left ear vigorously, made a face and said:
"Pretty object, heh? But you must be patient. In order to become a real boy I couldn't help but go back to ... the old one!"
And Now—Finished or Not Finished
It was a beautiful morning, sparkling with sunshine and glory because the tricolor was waving from the windows of every house and the people in the streets had joy in their eyes and a smile on their lips. On the terrace of a handsome mansion, a terrace of marble decorated with exotic plants, at the end of which was a large stained-glass window, a man of mature age and military bearing was stretched out in a reclining-chair. He was smoking a large meerschaum pipe and blew out such puffs of smoke that it seemed as if he were trying to obscure the sun. By his side was a soldier awaiting orders, and near by was a stand on which a magnificent green parrot stood, scratching his head with his claw and rolling his big yellow eyes.
"Heh! What do you say to that, Duretti? Are we or are we not great? To-day that we can say we have made Italy?"
"Now you seeItalyThe general has made so free ..."
"Now you seeItalyThe general has made so free ..."
"Now you see
Italy
The general has made so free ..."
chattered the wretch of a parrot.
"Be quiet, Coccorito; if you keep on with that nonsense I won't give you any sunflower seeds for a week. I'd like to know who trained him to be so impertinent during my absence. If it were not ..."
General Win-the-War started to get up, but a sudden twinge of pain made him cry out and keep still in his chair. After biting his lips for five minutes he began again to suck the mouthpiece of his pipe, and after smoking up the air for another five minutes he said:
"Heh! My dear Duretti, it is a great satisfaction to fight for the greatness of one's country, and if it were not for that cursed Austrian shot which broke my leg I should like ..."
But Coccorito wouldn't let him finish and began to sing in his horrible voice:
"Every day,Pé—pé—pé,When he grew great,The soldiers he ate,Ho, ho, ho!He broke his leg,Or so he said,'Tis gout, you know,Won't let him go ..."
"Every day,Pé—pé—pé,When he grew great,The soldiers he ate,Ho, ho, ho!He broke his leg,Or so he said,'Tis gout, you know,Won't let him go ..."
"Every day,
Pé—pé—pé,
When he grew great,
The soldiers he ate,
Ho, ho, ho!
He broke his leg,
Or so he said,
'Tis gout, you know,
Won't let him go ..."
He Threw His Pipe at the Bird
The general groaned and threw with all the strength he had left his big meerschaum pipe at the bird. Coccorito would have come to a sad end if the god of parrots hadnot, as he always did, held his protecting hand over his tuft. The pipe grazed his head and fell in the street, while he, with a strong tug at his light brass chain, flew off and perched himself on the window-sill of the floor above, where he laughed loudly and cried:
"Ha, ha, ha!The general to the front set out,Felt a blow and down he fell,Because he suffers from the gout.He says his leg he broke—well, well—For his King, for ItalyHe broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
"Ha, ha, ha!The general to the front set out,Felt a blow and down he fell,Because he suffers from the gout.He says his leg he broke—well, well—For his King, for ItalyHe broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
"Ha, ha, ha!
The general to the front set out,
Felt a blow and down he fell,
Because he suffers from the gout.
He says his leg he broke—well, well—
For his King, for Italy
He broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
But Coccorito could now sing in peace and be as insolent as he liked because the general was no longer paying any attention to him, for two excellent reasons. First, because, in spite of his high rank, he was not great enough to reach up to the second-floor window; second, and more important, because at the moment that his pipe fell in the street a carriage stopped in front of the house and out of it got a gentleman, a lady, and ... a small box they were carrying, and it was against this box that the strange projectile fell, making such a clatter that the lady couldn't help uttering a few wordsof protest. Win-the-War, who never allowed any one to outdo him in courtesy, found it necessary to explain matters, and with the help of his orderly got up from his chair and dragged himself to the railing of the terrace.
"Pardon me, I beg you.... You are right to protest, but my pipe ... fell.... I threw it.... In short, it is all the fault of my parrot, who upset me and the pipe. Coccorito, show them at least ... so that the lady and gentleman may not believe ..."
"But don't imagine such a thing, General. Don't bother yourself ... it is no matter."
"Ha, ha, ha!The general to the front set out,Felt a blow and down he fell,Because he suffers from the gout.He says his leg he broke—well, well—For his King, for ItalyHe broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
"Ha, ha, ha!The general to the front set out,Felt a blow and down he fell,Because he suffers from the gout.He says his leg he broke—well, well—For his King, for ItalyHe broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
"Ha, ha, ha!
The general to the front set out,
Felt a blow and down he fell,
Because he suffers from the gout.
He says his leg he broke—well, well—
For his King, for Italy
He broke his leg—he, he, he, he!"
Coccorito began again.
"Oh, you wretch! Did you hear him?"
"Don't apologize, General. I beg your pardon. Does old Geppetto live here?"
"Yes, sir, on the floor above. Ring the second bell."
"Thank you."
"Not at all."
Old Geppetto was getting ready to mend an old table the legs of which were red with worm-holes and had in hand a piece of seasoned wood, a splendid piece. He was going to cut it with a hatchet and he had lifted up his hand holding the shining tool, when who knows what queer thoughts made his arm fall heavily. Did he perhaps remember that other famous piece of wood from which the sprightly little old man had shaped the wonderful puppet which had brought him so much bother and trouble? And what had become of him? Why had he sent no news of himself since he had gone out into the world like a real boy? Perhaps the poor little old man would have preferred to have him still at his side, a puppet as he used to be, and of wood out of which he had made him, than to be left thus alone in the last years of his life. He had tried so often to make another Pinocchio, but he had never been able to finish his work. His hands trembled; his eyes were no longer what they used to be, and even the wood—certainly it was the truth about the wood—wasn't what it used to be.
When he heard the bell ring he felt his heart beat, and he ran to open the door, swaying from side to side like a drunken man.
"Who's there?"
"It's I, Geppetto. Don't you recognize me?"
"My Fatina!"
"Yes, indeed, your Fatina who has come to introduce her husband, the Bersaglierino, to you, and to see how you are, and to bring you somebody you are fond of, very fond of," she replied, as they entered.
He gave her a long, questioning glance from beneath his spectacles; then he spied Pinocchio mischievously hiding behind Fatina and the Bersaglierino.
"Oh, Fatina! Fatina! How did they bring my poor puppet to such a state?" sobbed Geppetto as he looked at Pinocchio. "What under the sun is all this machinery and these contraptions? I made him of wood, all of wood, and so splendidly that no one was ever able to imitate him. Why did you let them abuse him in this way? Wouldn't it have been better if you had let him stay areal boythan to bring him back to me in this condition?"
And the dear little old man couldn't contain himself and gave vent to his sorrow in loud weeping.
Fatina and the Bersaglierino could find no words to comfort him with and looked at him compassionately, their own throats tightening. When Papa Geppetto had grown a little calmer he took his puppet in his arms and examined him carefully all over, shaking his head and drawing his lips tightly as if he wished to keep his sobs from bursting out again. He saw the artificial legs, the arm with its steel spring and the tweezers for hands; he saw the large silver plate which supported the breastbone—admired all this up-to-date mechanism, but was not in the least satisfied. The poor little old man preferred his wooden puppetall of woodto the marrow ... and he no longer recognizedhisold Pinocchio.
"Oh, Fatina!" he said, sighing, "who brought him to such a state?"
"Our country, dear friend."
"Our country?" and for a moment he stood there, his eyes wide open with surprise. "Our country, did you say, Fatina?" Then he was lost in thought again.
Geppetto
While the old man was bending overPinocchio, Fatina and Bersaglierino quietly slipped out of the door. Papa Geppetto was again alone with his beloved puppet in the same room where he had first carved the little fellow out of pine wood.
Don't you remember how Pinocchio first broke up everything before he ran away? How he knocked over the chest, rummaged the wardrobe, broke the mirror, upset the little table, turned over the chairs, pulled the pictures off the walls, and tore down the window-curtains? And don't you remember how he left everything in a mess and ran out into the street wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain?
Well, Pinocchio was home again, and Papa Geppetto had long ago repaired the things Pinocchio had broken. Everything was in good order except Pinocchio himself. That was what worried the old man. He did not care much about the mirrors, wardrobes, or window-curtains, but hedidcare about his little puppet friend whom he loved.
It was getting dark and old Geppetto sat down in a large armchair and held Pinocchio on his lap. As the shadows began to gather and the room to get darker, Papa Geppetto began to nod and soon closed his eyes. With his arms clasped around Pinocchio, he went to sleep.
If you could now step quietly into the room, you would see both of them asleep. The old man's head was resting on Pinocchio'shead, and Pinocchio's on Geppetto's shoulder.
The little puppet was sleeping quietly, but the old man was not. He seemed to be having a bad dream, judging from his sighs and groans.
"Oh, Pinocchio!" he said, aloud, in his sleep, "why did you run away and go to the war? Just look at you! No legs, and one arm gone! I wish you were my dear wooden puppet again."
Then the old man sighed, but kept on sleeping.
After about two hours Papa Geppetto awoke. It was now quite dark, but not so dark that the old man could not see that some change had come over Pinocchio. He looked down at the little sleeping puppet and what do you think he saw? Not artificial legs and an arm. Oh no! Pinocchio was just as he was when he was first made. Pinocchio was again the little wooden puppet!
Papa Geppetto was so overcome with joy that he caught up Pinocchio in his arms and hugged him so tight he nearly smothered the little fellow. And Pinocchio threw his arms around the old man's neck and kissed the top of his bald head.
THE END