Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi (7 ebook reader .TXT) 📗
- Author: Carlo Collodi
- Performer: 0520077822
Book online «Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi (7 ebook reader .TXT) 📗». Author Carlo Collodi
Enraged at not being able to fight the Marionette at close quarters, they started to throw all kinds of books at him. Readers, geographies, histories, grammars flew in all directions. But Pinocchio was keen of eye and swift of movement, and the books only passed over his head, landed in the sea, and disappeared.
The fish, thinking they might be good to eat, came to the top of the water in great numbers. Some took a nibble, some took a bite, but no sooner had they tasted a page or two, than they spat them out with a wry face, as if to say:
“What a horrid taste! Our own food is so much better!”
Meanwhile, the battle waxed more and more furious. At the noise, a large Crab crawled slowly out of the water and, with a voice that sounded like a trombone suffering from a cold, he cried out:
“Stop fighting, you rascals! These battles between boys rarely end well. Trouble is sure to come to you!”
Poor Crab! He might as well have spoken to the wind. Instead of listening to his good advice, Pinocchio turned to him and said as roughly as he knew how:
“Keep quiet, ugly Gab! It would be better for you to chew a few cough drops to get rid of that cold you have. Go to bed and sleep! You will feel better in the morning.”
In the meantime, the boys, having used all their books, looked around for new ammunition. Seeing Pinocchio’s bundle lying idle near-by, they somehow managed to get hold of it.
One of the books was a very large volume, an arithmetic text, heavily bound in leather. It was Pinocchio’s pride. Among all his books, he liked that one the best.
Thinking it would make a fine missile, one of the boys took hold of it and threw it with all his strength at Pinocchio’s head. But instead of hitting the Marionette, the book struck one of the other boys, who, as pale as a ghost, cried out faintly: “Oh, Mother, help! I’m dying!” and fell senseless to the ground.
At the sight of that pale little corpse, the boys were so frightened that they turned tail and ran. In a few moments, all had disappeared.
All except Pinocchio. Although scared to death by the horror of what had been done, he ran to the sea and soaked his handkerchief in the cool water and with it bathed the head of his poor little schoolmate. Sobbing bitterly, he called to him, saying:
“Eugene! My poor Eugene! Open your eyes and look at me! Why don’t you answer? I was not the one who hit you, you know. Believe me, I didn’t do it. Open your eyes, Eugene? If you keep them shut, I’ll die, too. Oh, dear me, how shall I ever go home now? How shall I ever look at my little mother again? What will happen to me? Where shall I go? Where shall I hide? Oh, how much better it would have been, a thousand times better, if only I had gone to school! Why did I listen to those boys? They always were a bad influence! And to think that the teacher had told me—and my mother, too!—‘Beware of bad company!’ That’s what she said. But I’m stubborn and proud. I listen, but always I do as I wish. And then I pay. I’ve never had a moment’s peace since I’ve been born! Oh, dear! What will become of me? What will become of me?”
Pinocchio went on crying and moaning and beating his head. Again and again he called to his little friend, when suddenly he heard heavy steps approaching.
He looked up and saw two tall Carabineers near him.
“What are you doing stretched out on the ground?” they asked Pinocchio.
“I’m helping this schoolfellow of mine.”
“Has he fainted?”
“I should say so,” said one of the Carabineers, bending to look at Eugene. “This boy has been wounded on the temple. Who has hurt him?”
“Not I,” stammered the Marionette, who had hardly a breath left in his whole body.
“If it wasn’t you, who was it, then?”
“Not I,” repeated Pinocchio.
“And with what was he wounded?”
“With this book,” and the Marionette picked up the arithmetic text to show it to the officer.
“And whose book is this?”
“Mine.”
“Enough.”
“Not another word! Get up as quickly as you can and come along with us.”
“But I—”
“Come with us!”
“But I am innocent.”
“Come with us!”
Before starting out, the officers called out to several fishermen passing by in a boat and said to them:
“Take care of this little fellow who has been hurt. Take him home and bind his wounds. Tomorrow we’ll come after him.”
They then took hold of Pinocchio and, putting him between them, said to him in a rough voice: “March! And go quickly, or it will be the worse for you!”
They did not have to repeat their words. The Marionette walked swiftly along the road to the village. But the poor fellow hardly knew what he was about. He thought he had a nightmare. He felt ill. His eyes saw everything double, his legs trembled, his tongue was dry, and, try as he might, he could not utter a single word. Yet, in spite of this numbness of feeling, he suffered keenly at the thought of passing under the windows of his good little Fairy’s house. What would she say on seeing him between two Carabineers?
They had just reached the village, when a sudden gust of wind blew off Pinocchio’s cap and made it go sailing far down the street.
“Would you allow me,” the Marionette asked the Carabineers, “to run after my cap?”
“Very well, go; but hurry.”
The Marionette went, picked up his cap—but instead of putting it on his head, he stuck it between his teeth and then raced toward the sea.
He went like a bullet out of a gun.
The Carabineers, judging that it would be very difficult to catch him, sent a large Mastiff after him, one that had won first prize in all the dog races. Pinocchio ran fast and the Dog ran faster. At so much noise, the people hung out of the windows or gathered in the street, anxious to see the end of the contest. But they were disappointed, for the Dog and Pinocchio raised so much dust on the road that, after a few moments, it was impossible to see them.
CHAPTER 28 Pinocchio runs the danger of being fried in a pan like a fish
During that wild chase, Pinocchio lived through a terrible moment when he almost gave himself up as lost. This was when Alidoro (that was the Mastiff’s name), in a frenzy of running, came so near that he was on the very point of reaching him.
The Marionette heard, close behind him, the labored breathing of the beast who was fast on his trail, and now and again even felt his hot breath blow over him.
Luckily, by this time, he was very near the shore, and the sea was in sight; in fact, only a few short steps away.
As soon as he set foot on the beach, Pinocchio gave a leap and fell into the water. Alidoro tried to stop, but as he was running very fast, he couldn’t, and he, too, landed far out in the sea. Strange though it may seem, the Dog could not swim. He beat the water with his paws to hold himself up, but the harder he tried, the deeper he sank. As he stuck his head out once more, the poor fellow’s eyes were bulging and he barked out wildly, “I drown! I drown!”
“Drown!” answered Pinocchio from afar, happy at his escape.
“Help, Pinocchio, dear little Pinocchio! Save me from death!”
At those cries of suffering, the Marionette, who after all had a very kind heart, was moved to compassion. He turned toward the poor animal and said to him:
“But if I help you, will you promise not to bother me again by running after me?”
“I promise! I promise! Only hurry, for if you wait another second, I’ll be dead and gone!”
Pinocchio hesitated still another minute. Then, remembering how his father had often told him that a kind deed is never lost, he swam to Alidoro and, catching hold of his tail, dragged him to the shore.
The poor Dog was so weak he could not stand. He had swallowed so much salt water that he was swollen like a balloon. However, Pinocchio, not wishing to trust him too much, threw himself once again into the sea. As he swam away, he called out:
“Good-by, Alidoro, good luck and remember me to the family!”
“Good-by, little Pinocchio,” answered the Dog. “A thousand thanks for having saved me from death. You did me a good turn, and, in this world, what is given is always returned. If the chance comes, I shall be there.”
Pinocchio went on swimming close to shore. At last he thought he had reached a safe place. Glancing up and down the beach, he saw the opening of a cave out of which rose a spiral of smoke.
“In that cave,” he said to himself, “there must be a fire. So much the better. I’ll dry my clothes and warm myself, and then—well—”
His mind made up, Pinocchio swam to the rocks, but as he started to climb, he felt something under him lifting him up higher and higher. He tried to escape, but he was too late. To his great surprise, he found himself in a huge net, amid a crowd of fish of all kinds and sizes, who were fighting and struggling desperately to free themselves.
At the same time, he saw a Fisherman come out of the cave, a Fisherman so ugly that Pinocchio thought he was a sea monster. In place of hair, his head was covered by a thick bush of green grass. Green was the skin of his body, green were his eyes, green was the long, long beard that reached down to his feet. He looked like a giant lizard with legs and arms.
When the Fisherman pulled the net out of the sea, he cried out joyfully:
“Blessed Providence! Once more I’ll have a fine meal of fish!”
“Thank Heaven, I’m not a fish!” said Pinocchio to himself, trying with these words to find a little courage.
The Fisherman took the net and the fish to the cave, a dark, gloomy, smoky place. In the middle of it, a pan full of oil sizzled over a smoky fire, sending out a repelling odor of tallow that took away one’s breath.
“Now, let’s see what kind of fish we have caught today,” said the Green Fisherman. He put a hand as big as a spade into the net and pulled out a handful of mullets.
“Fine mullets, these!” he said, after looking at them and smelling them with pleasure. After that, he threw them into a large, empty tub.
Many times he repeated this performance. As he pulled each fish out of the net, his mouth watered with the thought of the good dinner coming, and he said:
“Fine fish, these bass!”
“Very tasty, these whitefish!”
“Delicious flounders, these!”
“What splendid crabs!”
“And these dear little anchovies, with their heads still on!”
As you can well imagine, the bass, the flounders, the whitefish, and even the little anchovies all went together into the tub to keep the mullets company. The last to come out of the net was Pinocchio.
As soon as the Fisherman pulled him out, his green eyes opened wide with surprise, and he cried out in fear:
“What kind of fish is this? I don’t remember ever eating anything like it.”
He looked at him closely and after turning him over and over, he said at last:
“I understand. He must be a crab!”
Pinocchio, mortified at being taken for a crab, said resentfully:
“What nonsense! A crab indeed! I am no such thing. Beware how you deal with me! I am a Marionette, I want you to know.”
“A Marionette?” asked the Fisherman.
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