But when he was there his courage failed him and instead of knocking he ran away some twenty paces. He returned to the door a second time and laid hold of the knocker, and, trembling, gave a little knock.
He waited and waited. At last, after half an hour had passed, a window on the top floor was opened—the house was four stories high—and Pinocchio saw a big Snail with a lighted candle on her head looking out. She called to him:
“Who is there at this hour?”
“Is the Fairy at home?” asked the puppet.
“The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened; but who are you?”
“It is I.”
“Who is I?”
“Pinocchio.”
“And who is Pinocchio?”
“The puppet who lives in the Fairy’s house.”
“Ah, I understand!” said the Snail. “Wait for me there. I will come down and open the door directly.”
“Be quick, for pity’s sake, for I am dying of cold.”
“My boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry.”
An hour passed, and then two, and the door was not opened. Pinocchio, who was wet through and through, and trembling from cold and fear, at last took courage and knocked again, and this time he knocked louder.
At this second knock a window on the lower story opened and the same Snail appeared at it.
“Beautiful little Snail,” cried Pinocchio from the street, “I have been waiting for two hours! And two hours on such a bad night seem longer than two years. Be quick, for pity’s sake.”
“My boy,” answered the calm little animal—“my boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry.”
And the window was shut again.
Shortly afterwards midnight struck; then one o’clock, then two o’clock, and the door remained still closed.
Pinocchio at last, losing all patience, seized the knocker in a rage, intending to give a blow that would resound through the house. But the knocker, which was iron, turned suddenly into an eel and, slipping out of his hands, disappeared in the stream of water that ran down the middle of the street.
“Ah! is that it?” shouted Pinocchio, blind with rage. “Since the knocker has disappeared, I will kick instead with all my might.”
And, drawing a little back, he gave a tremendous kick against the house door. The blow was indeed so violent that his foot went through the wood and stuck; and when he tried to draw it back again it was trouble thrown away, for it remained fixed like a nail that has been hammered down.
Think of poor Pinocchio! He was obliged to spend the remainder of the night with one foot on the ground and the other in the air.
The following morning at daybreak the door was at last opened. The clever little Snail had taken only nine hours to come down from the fourth story to the house-door. It is evident that her exertions must have been great.
“What are you doing with your foot stuck in the door?” she asked the puppet.
“It was an accident. Do try, beautiful little Snail, if you cannot release me from this torture.”
“My boy, that is the work of a carpenter, and I have never been a carpenter.”
“Beg the Fairy from me!”
“The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened.”
“But what do you suppose that I can do all day nailed to this door?”
“Amuse yourself by counting the ants that pass down the street.”
“Bring me at least something to eat, for I am quite exhausted.”
“At once,” said the Snail.
In fact, after three hours and a half she returned to Pinocchio carrying a silver tray on her head. The tray contained a loaf of bread, a roast chicken, and four ripe apricots.
“Here is the breakfast that the Fairy has sent you,” said the Snail.
The puppet felt very much comforted at the sight of these good things. But when he began to eat them, what was his disgust at making the discovery that the bread was plaster, the chicken cardboard, and the four apricots painted alabaster.
He wanted to cry. In his desperation he tried to throw away the tray and all that was on it; but instead, either from grief or exhaustion, he fainted away.
When he came to himself he found that he was lying on a sofa, and the Fairy was beside him.
“I will pardon you once more,” the Fairy said, “but woe to you if you behave badly a third time!”
Pinocchio promised and swore that he would study, and that for the future he would always conduct himself well.
And he kept his word for the remainder of the year. Indeed, at the examinations before the holidays, he had the honor of being the first in the school, and his behavior in general was so satisfactory and praiseworthy that the Fairy was very much pleased, and said to him:
“Tomorrow your wish shall be gratified.”
“And that is?”
“Tomorrow you shall cease to be a wooden puppet and you shall become a boy.”
No one who had not witnessed it could ever imagine Pinocchio’s joy at this long-sighed-for good fortune. All his schoolfellows were to be invited for the following day to a grand breakfast at the Fairy’s house, that they might celebrate together the great event. The Fairy had prepared two hundred cups of coffee and milk, and four hundred rolls cut and buttered on each side. The day promised to be most happy and delightful, but—
Unfortunately in the lives of puppets there is always a “but” that spoils everything.
XXX
The “Land of Boobies”
Pinocchio, as was natural, asked the Fairy’s permission to go round the town to give out the invitations, and the Fairy said to him:
“Go, if you like, and invite your companions for the breakfast tomorrow, but remember to return home before dark. Have you understood?”
“I promise to be back in an hour,” answered the puppet.
“Take care, Pinocchio! Boys are always very ready to promise, but generally they are little given to keep their word.”
“But I am not like other boys. When I say a thing, I do it.”
“We shall see.
