The Pinocchio Megapack: 4 Classic Puppet Tales

by Carlo Collodi

  CHAPTER 16

  The Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair sends for the poor Marionette, puts him to bed, and calls three Doctors to tell her if Pinocchio is dead or alive.

  If the poor Marionette had dangled there much longer, all hope would have been lost. Luckily for him, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair once again looked out of her window. Filled with pity at the sight of the poor little fellow being knocked helplessly about by the wind, she clapped her hands sharply together three times.

  At the signal, a loud whirr of wings in quick flight was heard and a large Falcon came and settled itself on the window ledge.

  “What do you command, my charming Fairy?” asked the Falcon, bending his beak in deep reverence (for it must be known that, after all, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair was none other than a very kind Fairy who had lived, for more than a thousand years, in the vicinity of the forest).

  “Do you see that Marionette hanging from the limb of that giant oak tree?”

  “I see him.”

  “Very well. Fly immediately to him. With your strong beak, break the knot which holds him tied, take him down, and lay him softly on the grass at the foot of the oak.”

  The Falcon flew away and after two minutes returned, saying, “I have done what you have commanded.”

  “How did you find him? Alive or dead?”

  “At first glance, I thought he was dead. But I found I was wrong, for as soon as I loosened the knot around his neck, he gave a long sigh and mumbled with a faint voice, ‘Now I feel better!’”

  The Fairy clapped her hands twice. A magnificent Poodle appeared, walking on his hind legs just like a man. He was dressed in court livery. A tricorn trimmed with gold lace was set at a rakish angle over a wig of white curls that dropped down to his waist. He wore a jaunty coat of chocolate-colored velvet, with diamond buttons, and with two huge pockets which were always filled with bones, dropped there at dinner by his loving mistress. Breeches of crimson velvet, silk stockings, and low, silver-buckled slippers completed his costume. His tail was encased in a blue silk covering, which was to protect it from the rain.

  “Come, Medoro,” said the Fairy to him. “Get my best coach ready and set out toward the forest. On reaching the oak tree, you will find a poor, half-dead Marionette stretched out on the grass. Lift him up tenderly, place him on the silken cushions of the coach, and bring him here to me.”

  The Poodle, to show that he understood, wagged his silk-covered tail two or three times and set off at a quick pace.

  In a few minutes, a lovely little coach, made of glass, with lining as soft as whipped cream and chocolate pudding, and stuffed with canary feathers, pulled out of the stable. It was drawn by one hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle sat on the coachman’s seat and snapped his whip gayly in the air, as if he were a real coachman in a hurry to get to his destination.

  In a quarter of an hour the coach was back. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, lifted the poor little Marionette in her arms, took him to a dainty room with mother-of-pearl walls, put him to bed, and sent immediately for the most famous doctors of the neighborhood to come to her.

  One after another the doctors came, a Crow, and Owl, and a Talking Cricket.

  “I should like to know, signori,” said the Fairy, turning to the three doctors gathered about Pinocchio’s bed, “I should like to know if this poor Marionette is dead or alive.”

  At this invitation, the Crow stepped out and felt Pinocchio’s pulse, his nose, his little toe. Then he solemnly pronounced the following words:

  “To my mind this Marionette is dead and gone; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is still alive!”

  “I am sorry,” said the Owl, “to have to contradict the Crow, my famous friend and colleague. To my mind this Marionette is alive; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is wholly dead!”

  “And do you hold any opinion?” the Fairy asked the Talking Cricket.

  “I say that a wise doctor, when he does not know what he is talking about, should know enough to keep his mouth shut. However, that Marionette is not a stranger to me. I have known him a long time!”

  Pinocchio, who until then had been very quiet, shuddered so hard that the bed shook.

  “That Marionette,” continued the Talking Cricket, “is a rascal of the worst kind.”

  Pinocchio opened his eyes and closed them again.

  “He is rude, lazy, a runaway.”

  Pinocchio hid his face under the sheets.

  “That Marionette is a disobedient son who is breaking his father’s heart!”

  Long shuddering sobs were heard, cries, and deep sighs. Think how surprised everyone was when, on raising the sheets, they discovered Pinocchio half melted in tears!

  “When the dead weep, they are beginning to recover,” said the Crow solemnly.

  “I am sorry to contradict my famous friend and colleague,” said the Owl, “but as far as I’m concerned, I think that when the dead weep, it means they do not want to die.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Pinocchio eats sugar, but refuses to take medicine. When the undertakers come for him, he drinks the medicine and feels better. Afterwards he tells a lie and, in punishment, his nose grows longer and longer.

  As soon as the three doctors had left the room, the Fairy went to Pinocchio’s bed and, touching him on the forehead, noticed that he was burning with fever.

  She took a glass of water, put a white powder into it, and, handing it to the Marionette, said lovingly to him:

  “Drink this, and in a few days you’ll be up and well.”

  Pinocchio looked at the glass, made a wry face, and asked in a whining voice: “Is it sweet or bitter?”

  “It is bitter, but it is good for you.”

  “If it is bitter, I don’t want it.”

  “Drink it!”

  “I don’t like anything bitter.”

  “Drink it and I’ll give you a lump of sugar to take the bitter taste from your mouth.”

  “Where’s the sugar?”

  “Here it is,” said the Fairy, taking a lump from a golden sugar bowl.

  “I want the sugar first, then I’ll drink the bitter water.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.”

  The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, after chewing and swallowing it in a twinkling, said, smacking his lips:

  “If only sugar were medicine! I should take it every day.”

  “Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water. They’ll be good for you.”

  Pinocchio took the glass in both hands and stuck his nose into it. He lifted it to his mouth and once more stuck his nose into it.

  “It is too bitter, much too bitter! I can’t drink it.”

  “How do you know, when you haven’t even tasted it?”

  “I can imagine it. I smell it. I want another lump of sugar, then I’ll drink it.”

  The Fairy, with all the patience of a good mother, gave him more sugar and again handed him the glass.

  “I can’t drink it like that,” the Marionette said, making more wry faces.

  “Why?”

  “Because that feather pillow on my feet bothers me.”

  The Fairy took away the pillow.

  “It’s no use. I can’t drink it even now.”

  “What’s the matter now?”

  “I don’t like the way that door looks. It’s half open.”

  The Fairy closed the door.

  “I won’t drink it,” cried Pinocchio, bursting out crying. “I won’t drink this awful water. I won’t. I won’t! No, no, no, no!”

  “My boy, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I don’t care.
”

  “You are very sick.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “In a few hours the fever will take you far away to another world.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of death?”

  “Not a bit. I’d rather die than drink that awful medicine.”

  At that moment, the door of the room flew open and in came four Rabbits as black as ink, carrying a small black coffin on their shoulders.

  “What do you want from me?” asked Pinocchio.

  “We have come for you,” said the largest Rabbit.

  “For me? But I’m not dead yet!”

  “No, not dead yet; but you will be in a few moments since you have refused to take the medicine which would have made you well.”

  “Oh, Fairy, my Fairy,” the Marionette cried out, “give me that glass! Quick, please! I don’t want to die! No, no, not yet—not yet!”

  And holding the glass with his two hands, he swallowed the medicine at one gulp.

  “Well,” said the four Rabbits, “this time we have made the trip for nothing.”

  And turning on their heels, they marched solemnly out of the room, carrying their little black coffin and muttering and grumbling between their teeth.

  In a twinkling, Pinocchio felt fine. With one leap he was out of bed and into his clothes.

  The Fairy, seeing him run and jump around the room gay as a bird on wing, said to him:

  “My medicine was good for you, after all, wasn’t it?”

  “Good indeed! It has given me new life.”

  “Why, then, did I have to beg you so hard to make you drink it?”

  “I’m a boy, you see, and all boys hate medicine more than they do sickness.”

  “What a shame! Boys ought to know, after all, that medicine, taken in time, can save them from much pain and even from death.”

  “Next time I won’t have to be begged so hard. I’ll remember those black Rabbits with the black coffin on their shoulders and I’ll take the glass and pouf!—down it will go!”

  “Come here now and tell me how it came about that you found yourself in the hands of the Assassins.”

  “It happened that Fire Eater gave me five gold pieces to give to my Father, but on the way, I met a Fox and a Cat, who asked me, ‘Do you want the five pieces to become two thousand?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ And they said, ‘Come with us to the Field of Wonders.’ And I said, ‘Let’s go.’ Then they said, ‘Let us stop at the Inn of the Red Lobster for dinner and after midnight we’ll set out again.’ We ate and went to sleep. When I awoke they were gone and I started out in the darkness all alone. On the road I met two Assassins dressed in black coal sacks, who said to me, ‘Your money or your life!’ and I said, ‘I haven’t any money’; for, you see, I had put the money under my tongue. One of them tried to put his hand in my mouth and I bit it off and spat it out; but it wasn’t a hand, it was a cat’s paw. And they ran after me and I ran and ran, till at last they caught me and tied my neck with a rope and hanged me to a tree, saying, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come back for you and you’ll be dead and your mouth will be open, and then we’ll take the gold pieces that you have hidden under your tongue.’”

  “Where are the gold pieces now?” the Fairy asked.

  “I lost them,” answered Pinocchio, but he told a lie, for he had them in his pocket.

  As he spoke, his nose, long though it was, became at least two inches longer.

  “And where did you lose them?”

  “In the wood near by.”

  At this second lie, his nose grew a few more inches.

  “If you lost them in the near-by wood,” said the Fairy, “we’ll look for them and find them, for everything that is lost there is always found.”

  “Ah, now I remember,” replied the Marionette, becoming more and more confused. “I did not lose the gold pieces, but I swallowed them when I drank the medicine.”

  At this third lie, his nose became longer than ever, so long that he could not even turn around. If he turned to the right, he knocked it against the bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned to the left, he struck the walls or the door; if he raised it a bit, he almost put the Fairy’s eyes out.

  The Fairy sat looking at him and laughing.

  “Why do you laugh?” the Marionette asked her, worried now at the sight of his growing nose.

  “I am laughing at your lies.”

  “How do you know I am lying?”

  “Lies, my boy, are known in a moment. There are two kinds of lies, lies with short legs and lies with long noses. Yours, just now, happen to have long noses.”

  Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide his shame, tried to escape from the room, but his nose had become so long that he could not get it out of the door.

  CHAPTER 18

  Pinocchio finds the Fox and the Cat again, and goes with them to sow the gold pieces in the Field of Wonders.

  Crying as if his heart would break, the Marionette mourned for hours over the length of his nose. No matter how he tried, it would not go through the door. The Fairy showed no pity toward him, as she was trying to teach him a good lesson, so that he would stop telling lies, the worst habit any boy may acquire. But when she saw him, pale with fright and with his eyes half out of his head from terror, she began to feel sorry for him and clapped her hands together. A thousand woodpeckers flew in through the window and settled themselves on Pinocchio’s nose. They pecked and pecked so hard at that enormous nose that in a few moments, it was the same size as before.

  “How good you are, my Fairy,” said Pinocchio, drying his eyes, “and how much I love you!”

  “I love you, too,” answered the Fairy, “and if you wish to stay with me, you may be my little brother and I’ll be your good little sister.”

  “I should like to stay—but what about my poor father?”

  “I have thought of everything. Your father has been sent for and before night he will be here.”

  “Really?” cried Pinocchio joyfully. “Then, my good Fairy, if you are willing, I should like to go to meet him. I cannot wait to kiss that dear old man, who has suffered so much for my sake.”

  “Surely; go ahead, but be careful not to lose your way. Take the wood path and you’ll surely meet him.”

  Pinocchio set out, and as soon as he found himself in the wood, he ran like a hare. When he reached the giant oak tree he stopped, for he thought he heard a rustle in the brush. He was right. There stood the Fox and the Cat, the two traveling companions with whom he had eaten at the Inn of the Red Lobster.

  “Here comes our dear Pinocchio!” cried the Fox, hugging and kissing him. “How did you happen here?”

  “How did you happen here?” repeated the Cat.

  “It is a long story,” said the Marionette. “Let me tell it to you. The other night, when you left me alone at the Inn, I met the Assassins on the road—”

  “The Assassins? Oh, my poor friend! And what did they want?”

  “They wanted my gold pieces.”

  “Rascals!” said the Fox.

  “The worst sort of rascals!” added the Cat.

  “But I began to run,” continued the Marionette, “and they after me, until they overtook me and hanged me to the limb of that oak.”

  Pinocchio pointed to the giant oak near by.

  “Could anything be worse?” said the Fox.

  “What an awful world to live in! Where shall we find a safe place for gentlemen like ourselves?”

  As the Fox talked thus, Pinocchio noticed that the Cat carried his right paw in a sling.

  “What happened to your paw?” he asked.

  The Cat tried to answer, but he became so terribly twisted in his speech that the Fox had to help him out.

  “My frien
d is too modest to answer. I’ll answer for him. About an hour ago, we met an old wolf on the road. He was half starved and begged for help. Having nothing to give him, what do you think my friend did out of the kindness of his heart? With his teeth, he bit off the paw of his front foot and threw it at that poor beast, so that he might have something to eat.”

  As he spoke, the Fox wiped off a tear.

  Pinocchio, almost in tears himself, whispered in the Cat’s ear:

  “If all the cats were like you, how lucky the mice would be!”

  “And what are you doing here?” the Fox asked the Marionette.

  “I am waiting for my father, who will be here at any moment now.”

  “And your gold pieces?”

  “I still have them in my pocket, except one which I spent at the Inn of the Red Lobster.”

  “To think that those four gold pieces might become two thousand tomorrow. Why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you sow them in the Field of Wonders?”

  “Today it is impossible. I’ll go with you some other time.”

  “Another day will be too late,” said the Fox.

  “Why?”

  “Because that field has been bought by a very rich man, and today is the last day that it will be open to the public.”

  “How far is this Field of Wonders?”

  “Only two miles away. Will you come with us? We’ll be there in half an hour. You can sow the money, and, after a few minutes, you will gather your two thousand coins and return home rich. Are you coming?”

  Pinocchio hesitated a moment before answering, for he remembered the good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the advice of the Talking Cricket. Then he ended by doing what all boys do, when they have no heart and little brain. He shrugged his shoulders and said to the Fox and the Cat:

  “Let us go! I am with you.”

  And they went.

  They walked and walked for a half a day at least and at last they came to the town called the City of Simple Simons. As soon as they entered the town, Pinocchio noticed that all the streets were filled with hairless dogs, yawning from hunger; with sheared sheep, trembling with cold; with combless chickens, begging for a grain of wheat; with large butterflies, unable to use their wings because they had sold all their lovely colors; with tailless peacocks, ashamed to show themselves; and with bedraggled pheasants, scuttling away hurriedly, grieving for their bright feathers of gold and silver, lost to them forever.