this threatening remark, Pinocchio threw himself down on the ground, and refused to walk.
A crowd of idle and inquisitive people gathered around him. Some said one thing, some another.
‘The poor puppet,’ said some of them, ‘is right, not wanting to go home! Who knows how horribly that bad Geppetto might beat him?’
And others added, with evil tongues, ‘Geppetto seems to be a good man, but he is a perfect tyrant with children. If we leave that poor marionette in his hands, he may tear him to pieces.’
In short, so much was said and done that the policeman let Pinocchio go, and decided to take poor Geppetto to prison.
He could not, for the time being, say anything in his own defence, but he cried like a calf and, as they walked towards the prison, he whimpered, ‘Wretched son! And to think that I worked so hard to make a fine puppet! But serve me right. I ought to have known what would happen!’
What happened afterwards is almost too much to believe; and I shall tell you about it in the following chapters.
The story of Pinocchio and the talking cricket in which we see that naughty children do not like to be corrected by those who are wiser than they are
Well, I must tell you children, that while poor Geppetto was led to prison through no fault of his own, that rascal Pinocchio, left alone, ran home across the fields as quickly as possible. In his hurry he jumped over high banks, thorn hedges, and ditches full of water, like a kid, or a young hare running away from the hunters.
When he arrived home, he found the door ajar. Pushing it open he went in, and locked it securely after him. Then he threw himself down on the ground with a great sigh of relief.
But the relief did not last long, for he heard someone in the room saying ‘Cri-cri-cri!’
‘Who is calling me?’ said Pinocchio, frightened.
‘It is I.’
Pinocchio turned and saw a big cricket creeping up the wall. ‘Tell me, cricket, who are you?’
‘I am the talking cricket, and I have lived in this room a hundred years or more.’
‘But now this is my room, and you will oblige me by going away at once, without even turning round.’
‘I shall not leave,’ replied the cricket, ‘until I have told you a great truth.’
‘Well then, tell me, and be quick about it!’
‘Woe to those boys who revolt against their parents, and run away from home. They will never do any good in this world, and sooner or later they will repent bitterly.’
‘Sing away, cricket, just as long as you please! But as for me, tomorrow at sunrise I am going to leave; for if I stay here the same will happen to me as happens to other boys: I shall be sent to school, and one way or other, by love or by force, I shall be made to study.’
‘You poor fool! Don’t you know that, if you spend your time like that, you will grow up to be a great donkey, and everyone will make fun of you?’
‘Be quiet, you good for nothing, croaking cricket!’ shouted Pinocchio.
But the cricket, who was patient, and a philosopher too, instead of being offended by such impudence, continued in the same tone, ‘But if you don’t like to go to school, why don’t you learn a trade, so that you may at least earn your bread honestly?’
‘Do you want me to tell you something?’ answered Pinocchio, beginning to lose his patience. ‘Of all the trades in the world, there is only one which really attracts me.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘To eat, drink, sleep, and amuse myself, and to lead a vagabond life from morning to night.’
‘Let me tell you,’ said the talking cricket, as calm as ever, ‘that those who follow that trade finish, nearly always, in a hospital or in prison.’
‘Be careful, you cricket of ill omen! If you make me angry, woe betide you!’
‘Poor Pinocchio! I am really sorry for you!’
‘Why are you sorry for me?’
‘Because you are a puppet, and – what is worse – you have a wooden head.’
At these last words Pinocchio lost his temper and, seizing a mallet from the bench, threw it at the cricket.
Perhaps he did not mean to hit him, but unfortunately the mallet struck him right on the head. The poor cricket had scarcely time to cry ‘Cri-cri-cri’, and there he was, stretched out stiff, and flattened against the wall.
Pinocchio is hungry, and he looks for an egg to make himself an omelette; but just as he breaks it in the pan the omelette flies through the window
It was growing dark, and Pinocchio remembered that he had eaten nothing all day. There was a painful feeling in his stomach that closely resembled appetite.
With boys appetite grows fast. In fact, after a few minutes his appetite became hunger, and in no time he was as hungry as a wolf. His hunger was unbearable.
Poor Pinocchio hurried to the fireplace where a kettle was boiling and put out his hand to lift the lid and see what was in it; but the kettle was only painted on the wall. Imagine his disappointment! His nose, which was already too long, grew three inches longer.
He ran about the room, searched in every cupboard and in every possible place for a little bread – even dry bread. He would have been grateful for a crust, or a bone left by a dog, for a fishbone or a cherry stone – in short, for anything he could chew. But he found nothing, just nothing, absolutely nothing.
He kept growing hungrier every moment, yet he could do nothing but yawn. He yawned so tremendously that his mouth reached his ears; and after he yawned he spattered, and he felt as if he hadn’t any stomach left.
At last, in despair, he began to cry, saying, ‘The talking cricket was right. I did wrong to revolt against my father and run away from home. If my father were here now, I shouldn’t be dying of yawning. Oh, hunger is a dreadful illness!’
Suddenly, in a rubbish heap, he noticed something white and round that looked like an egg. In less than no time he grabbed it. It was really an egg.
To describe his joy would be impossible; you can only imagine it. He feared he might be dreaming. He turned the egg from one hand to the other, and patted it and kissed it as he said, ‘Now, how shall I cook it? Shall I make an omelette? No, it would be better to poach it. But perhaps it would be more tasty if I fried it in a pan. Or shall I just boil it in the shell? No, the quickest way would
