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29 - The Adventures of Pinocchio - Carlo Collodi · Classic Adventure Books Library

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  Chapter twenty nine, Pinocchio returns to the fairy's house, and she promises him
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  that on the morrow he will cease to be a marionette and become a boy.
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  A wonderful party of coffee and milk to celebrate the great event. Mindful
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  of what the fisherman had said, Pinocchio knew that all hope of being saved
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  had gone. He closed his eyes and waited for the final moment. Suddenly,
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  a large dog, attracted by the odor of boiling oil, came running
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  into the cave. Get out, cried the fisherman, threateningly, and still
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  holding on to the marionette, who was all covered with flour. But the
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  poor dog was very hungry and whining and wagging his tail. He tried to
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  say, give me a bite of the fish. I'll go in peace.
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  Get out, I say, repeated the fisherman, and he drew back his
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  foot to give the dog a kick. Then the dog, who being really
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  hungry, would take no refusal, turned in a rage toward the fisherman and
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  bared his terrible things. At that moment, a pitiful little voice was heard
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  saying, save me, Alidoro. If you don't, I'll fry the dog
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  immediately recognized Pinocchio's voice. Great was his surprise to find that the voice came
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  from the little flower covered bundle that the fisherman held in his hand. Then
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  what did he do? With one great leap? He grasped that bundle in
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  his mouth, and, holding it lightly between his teeth, ran through the
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  door and disappeared like a flash. The fisherman, angry at seeing his meal
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  snatched from under his nose, ran after the dog, but a bad fit
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  of coughing made him stop and turn back. Meanwhile, Alidoro, as soon
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  as he had found the road which led to the village, stopped and dropped
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  Pinocchio softly to the ground. How much I do thank you, said the
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  marionette. It's not necessary, answered the dog. You save me once,
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  and what is given is always returned. We are in this world to help
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  one another. But how did you get in that cave? I was lying
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  here on the sand, more dead than alive, when an appetizing odor of
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  frightfish came to me. That odor tickled my hunger, and I followed it.
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  Oh, if I had come a moment later, don't speak about it,
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  wailed Pinocchio, still trembling with fright don't say a word. If you
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  had come a moment later, I would be fried, eaten, and digested
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  by this time er I shiver at the mere thought of it. Alidoro laughingly
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  held out his paw to the marionette, who shook it heartily, feeling that
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  now he and the dog were good friends. Then they bid each other good
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  bye, and the dog went home. Pinocchio, left alone, walked toward
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  a little hut near by, where an old man sat at the door,
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  sunning himself, and asked, tell me, good man, have you heard
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  anything of a poor boy with a wounded head whose name was Eugene. The
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  boy was brought to this hut, and now now he's dead, Pinocchio interrupted
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  sorrowfully. No, he is now alive, and he has already returned home.
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  Really really, cried the marionette, jumping around with joy. And the
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  wound was not serious, but it might have been even Martle answered the old
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  man. Far heavy book was thrown at his head, and who threw it?
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  A schoolmate of his, a certain Pinocchio. And who is this,
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  Pinocchio asked the marionette, feigning ignorance. They say he is a mischief maker,
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  a tramp, a street urchin calumnies, all calumnies. Do you know
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  this Pinocchio by sight, answered the marionette. And what do you think of
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  him? Answered the old man. I think he is a very good boy,
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  fond of study, obedient, kind to his father and to his whole
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  family. As he was telling all these enormous lies about himself, Pinocchio touched
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  his nose and found it twice as long as it should be. Scared out
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  of his wits, he cried out, don't listen to me, good man.
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  All the wonderful things I have said are not true at all. I
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  know Pinocchio well, and he is indeed a very wicked fellow, zy and
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  disobedient, who, instead of going to school, runs away with his playmates
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  to have a good time. At this speech, his nose returned to its
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  natural size. Why are you so pale, asked the old man. Suddenly,
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  let me tell you, without knowing it, I've rubbed myself against a
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  newly painted wall. He lied, ashamed to say that he had been made
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  ready for the frying pan. What have you done with your coat and your
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  hat and your breeches? I met thieves and they robbed me. Tell me,
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  my good man, have you not perhaps a little suit to give me
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  so that I may go home, my boy. As for clothes, I
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  have only a bag in which I keep hops. If you want it,
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  take it there it is. Pinocchio did not wait for him to repeat his
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  words. He took the bag, which happened to be empty, and after
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  cutting a big hole at the top and two at the sides, he slipped
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  into it as if it were a shirt. Lightly clad as he was,
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  he started out toward the village. Along the way, he felt very uneasy.
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  In fact, he was so unhappy that he went along, taking two
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  steps forward and one back. And as he went he said to himself,
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  how shall I ever face my good little fairy? What will she say when
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  she sees me? Will she forgive this last trick of mine? I am
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  sure she won't. Oh no, she won't, and I deserve it,
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  as usual, for I am a rascal, fine on promises which I never
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  keep. He came to the village late at night. It was so dark
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  he could see nothing, and it was raining pitchforks. Pinocchio went straight to
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  the fairy's house, firmly resolved to knock at the door. When he found
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  himself there, he lost courage and ran back a few steps. A second
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  time, he came to the door, and again he ran back. The
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  third time, he repeated his performance the fourth time, before he had time
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  to lose his courage. He grasped the knocker and made a faint sound with
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  it. He waited, and waited and waited. Finally, after a full
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  half hour, a top floor window the house had four stories opened and Pinocchio
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  saw a large snail look out. A tiny light glowed on top of her
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  head. Who knocks at this late hour? She called? Is the fairy
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  home? Asked the marionette. The fairy is asleep and does not wish to
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  be disturbed. Who are you it is? I? Who's I Pinocchio?
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  Who is Pinocchio? The marionette, the one who lives in the fairy's house?
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  Oh, I understand, said the snail. Wait for me there.
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  I will come down to open the door for you. Hurry, I beg
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  of you, for I am dying of cold, my boy, I am
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  a snail, and snails are never in a hurry. An hour passed,
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  two hours the door was still closed. Pinocchio, who was trembling with fear
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  and shivering from the cold rain, on his back knocked a second time,
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  this time louder than before. At that second knock, a window on the
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  third floor opened, and the same snail looked out. Dear little snail,
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  cried Pinocchio from the street. I have been waiting two hours for you,
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  and two hours on a dreadful night like this are as long as two years.
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  Hurry, please, my boy, answered the snail in a calm,
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  peaceful voice. My dear boy, I am a snail, and snails are
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  never in a hurry. And the window closed. A few minutes later,
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  midnight struck, then one o'clock, two o'clock, and the door still remained
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  closed. Then Pinocchio, losing all patience, grabbed the knocker with both hands,
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  fully determined to wake the whole house in the street with it. As
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  soon as he touched the knocker, however, it became an eel and wiggled
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  away into the darkness. Really, cried Pinocchio, blind with rage. If
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  the knocker is gone, I can still use my feet. He stepped back
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  and gave the door a most solemn kick. He kicked so hard that his
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  foot went straight through the door, and his leg followed almost to the knee.
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  No matter how he pulled and tugged, he could not pull it out.
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  There he stayed as if nailed to the door. Poor Pinocchio. The
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  rest of the night he had to spend with one foot through the door and
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  the other one in the air. As dawn was breaking, the door finally
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  opened. That brave little animal, the snail had taken exactly nine hours to
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  go from the fourth floor to the street. How she must have raced.
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  What are you doing with your foot through the door, she asked the marionette,
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  laughing it was a misfortune. Won't you try, pretty little snail,
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  to free me from this terrible torture. My boy, we need a carpenter
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  here, and I have never been one. Ask the fairy to help me.
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  The fairy is asleep and does not want to be disturbed. But what
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  do you want me to do nailed to the door like this? Enjoy yourself
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  counting the ants which are passing by. Bring me something to eat at least,
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  for I am faint with hunger. Immediately, in fact, after three
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  and a half hours, Pinocchio saw her return with the silver tray on her
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  head. On the tray there were bread, roast, chicken, fruit.
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  Here is the breakfast, the fairy sends to you, said the snail.
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  At the sight of all these good things, the marionette felt much better.
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  What was his disgust? However, when, on tasting the food he found
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  the bread to be made of chalk, the chicken of cardboard, and the
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  brilliant fruit of colored alabaster, he wanted to cry. He wanted to give
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  himself up to despair. He wanted to throw away the tray and all that
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  was on it. Instead, either from pain or weakness, he fell to
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  the floor in a dead faint. When he regained his senses, he found
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  himself stretched out on a sofa, and the fairy was seated near him.
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  This time I forgive you, said the fairy to him, but be careful
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  not to get into mischief again. Pinocchio promised to study and to behave himself,
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  and he kept his word for the remainder of the year. At the
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  end of it he passed first in all his examinations, and his report was
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  so good that the fairy said to him, Happily, tomorrow your wish will
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  come true. And what is that Tomorrow you will cease to be a marionette
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  and will become a real boy. Pinocchio was beside himself with joy. All
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  his friends and schoolmates must be invited to celebrate the great event. The fairy
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  promised to prepare two hundred cups of coffee and milk, and four hundred slices
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  of toast, buttered on both sides. The day promised to be a very
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  gay and happy one. But unluckily, in a marionette's life there's always a
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  butt which is apt to spoil everything. And of chapter twenty nine,