The Heart of Pinocchio: New Adventures of the Celebrated Little Puppet, Page 3

  CHAPTER I

  _How Pinocchio Discovered That He Had a Heart and Had Become a RealBoy_

  He yawned, stuck out his tongue and licked the end of his nose, openedhis eyes, shut them again, opened them once more and rubbed themvigorously with the back of his hand, jumped up, and then sat down onthe sofa, listening intently for several minutes, after which hescratched his noddle solemnly. When Pinocchio scratched his head inthis way you could be sure that there was trouble in the air. And sothere was. The room was empty, the windows closed, and the door aswell; no noise came from the still quiet street; a deep silencefilled the air, yet there, right there, close to him, he heard queersounds like blows--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock ...tick-tock.

 

  It sounded like some one who was amusing himself by rapping with hisknuckles on a wooden box--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock.

  "But who is it?" called out the puppet, suddenly, jumping down fromthe sofa and running to peer into every corner of the room. When hehad knocked over the chest, rummaged the wardrobe with the mirror,upset the little table, turned over the chairs, pulled the picturesoff the walls, and torn down the window-curtains, he found himselfseated on the floor in the middle of the room, dead tired, his faceall smeared with dust and spider-webs, his shirt in tatters, histongue hanging out like a pointer's returning from the hunt. Yetthere, close to him, he still heard that strange tick-tock ...tick-tock ... tick-tock ... and it seemed as if those mysteriousfingers were rapping even more quickly upon the mysterious wooden box.Pinocchio would have pulled his hair out in desperation if PapaGeppetto hadn't forgotten to make him any. But as the desperation ofpuppets lasts just about as long as the joy of poor human beings,Pinocchio, laying his right forefinger on the point of his magnificentnose, calmly remarked:

  "Let me argue this out. There is no one else in here but me. I amkeeping perfectly quiet, not even drawing a long breath, yet the noisekeeps up.... Then, since it is not I who am making the noise, some oneelse must be making it, and as no one outside me is making it,whatever makes it must be inside me."

  This seemed reasonable, but Pinocchio, who had not expected he wouldcome to such a conclusion, gave a start, kicked violently, and beganto roll around on the ground, yelling as if he would split his throat:"Help! Help!" The thought had suddenly come to him that during thenight a mouse had jumped into his mouth and down into his stomach andwas searching about in it for some way to get out. But the quieter hekept the noisier grew the tick-tock; in fact, so loud that it seemedto cut off his breath. Fear made him calm.

  "Let me argue this out," he said again, laying his forefinger againsthis nose. "It cannot be a mouse; the movement is too regular, soregular that if I weren't sure that I went to bed without supper Ishould think I had swallowed Papa Geppetto's watch by mistake.... Hm!If he hadn't told me time and time again that I am only a littlepuppet without a heart I should almost believe that I had one downinside me, and that this tick-tock were indeed ..."

  "Just so!"

  "Who said 'Just so'? Who said 'Just so'?" called Pinocchio, lookingaround in terror. Naturally no one answered him.

  "Hm! Did I dream it?" he asked himself. "And even if there is any onewho thinks he can frighten me with his 'just so' he will find himselfmuch mistaken. A brave boy does not know what fear is, and I begin tothink ...

  "'Just so' or not 'just so,' if any one has anything to say to me lethim come forward and he will learn what kind of blows I can give."

 

  He turned round and stepped back a few steps. It seemed to him thatsome one was making a threatening gesture at him. Without hesitating amoment, he rushed forward with his head down, thrashing out blows likea madman. Then he heard a terrible smashing of glass. Pinocchio hadhit out at his own image in the wardrobe mirror, which naturally wasshattered to bits. There is no need for me to tell you how he felt,because you will have no trouble in picturing it for yourselves.

  "But how did I come to make such a blunder?" he asked himself, as soonas he had recovered from his surprise. "How did I happen not torecognize myself in the mirror? Am I really so changed...? Can Iindeed be changed into a real little boy or am I a puppet as I alwayswas?"

  "Just so! Just so! Just so!"

  This time there could be no doubt about it. Pinocchio sprang towardthe window, opened it, and stuck his head out. There below, a few feetlower down, was a beautiful terrace covered with flowering plants. Inthe midst of the plants was a stand, and on the stand a magnificentgreen parrot who just at that moment was scratching under his beakwith his claw, and looking around him with one eye open. Down in thestreet below there was not a soul to be seen.

  "Oh, you ugly beast! Was it you who was chattering 'just so, just so,just so'?"

  The parrot burst out into a crazy laugh and began to sing in hiscracked voice:

  "Coccorito wants to know Who the glass gave such a blow. Coccorito knows it well And the master he will tell."

  "Hah! Hah! Hah!" And he burst out into another guffaw. Patience, whichis the only heritage of donkeys, was certainly not Pinocchio'sprincipal virtue. Moreover, the parrot laughed in such a rude mannerthat he would have annoyed Jove himself.

 

  "Stop it, idiot!"

  "Idiot, idiot, 'yot, 'yot."

  "Beast!"

  "Beast!"

  "Take care ..."

  "Take ca-a-a-re."

  "I'll give it to you."

  "You, you, you."

  "Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Who the glass gave such a blow? Coccorito knows it well And the master he will tell."

  "Will you? I'll make you shut up. Take this, you horrid beast!"

  There was a large terra-cotta pot with a fine plant of basil in itstanding on the window-sill, and the furious Pinocchio seized it inboth hands and hurled it down with all his force. Coccorito would havecome to a sad ending if the god of parrots had not protected histopknot. The flower-pot grazed the stand and was shattered against themarble parapet, and the pieces, falling down, hit against the largestained-glass window opening on to the terrace and broke it.

  Pinocchio, who could hardly believe that he had done so much damage,stood still a moment and gazed stupidly at the pile of broken piecesand at the parrot, who laughed as if he would burst. But whenPinocchio saw a big officer rush angrily over the terrace, with hishair brushed up on his head, a huge mustache beneath his curved nose,and a thick switch in his hand, he was seized with such a fright thathe threw over his shoulders the first thing in the way of clothing hecould lay his hand on, rushed to the door, opened it with a kick, ranthrough a small room adjoining, sped down the stairs at breakneckspeed, flung open the street door and--Heavens! He felt a violentblow on his stomach and, as if hurled from a catapult, he was throwninto the air and fell down the rest of the steps, his legs out beforehim. But he didn't stay still when he got to the bottom. He sprang uplike a jack-in-the-box, rubbed himself on the injured part, and wasoff again. He seemed to see some one strolling there in the middle ofthe street; he thought he heard himself called twice or thrice by awell-known voice, but the fear which was driving him bade him run, andhe ran with all the strength he had in his body.

 

  Poor Papa Geppetto! It was indeed he who was strolling in the middleof the street and who, seeing Pinocchio flying out of the house like amadman, wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain, had called to himimploringly.

  And so it was--in his hurry Pinocchio had thrown over his shouldersone of the curtains of his room, and if I must tell you all thetruth, he was a perfectly comical sight. Soon Pinocchio had a stringof people at his heels crying out: "Catch the madman! Give it to themadman!"

  Catch him! That was easy to say, but it was no easy matter to grabhold of the rascal. Indeed, his pursuers were soon weary, andPinocchio might have thought himself safe if a dog hadn't suddenlyjoined in the game. It was a large jet-black poodle that had come fromno one knew where. With a couple of bounds he had caught up withPinocchio and had seized the curtai
n in his teeth and was dragging itthrough the dust. Suddenly he stiffened on his four legs and Pinocchiogave a little whirl and found himself face to face with the animal.

  "Ho, ho, ho! What do I see? Oh, Medoro, don't you recognize me? Giveme your paw."

  Medoro growled and shook the curtain violently, which was stillknotted about Pinocchio's waist. It was only then that he noticed thestrange covering he had on and burst out laughing.

  "Oh, Medoro! What do you really want to do with this rag? I'll give itto you willingly."

  He had scarcely undone the knots when Medoro made a spring and was offdown the street they had come, the curtain in his teeth. The puppetstood there, quite upset. Medoro had given him a lesson. The dog thathad been so friendly had turned on him and, after having pulled themiserable old curtain off him, had made off without paying any furtherattention to his old friend.

 

  "A fine way of doing!" he grumbled. "I'll catch cold running aroundafter that rag. Papa Geppetto won't even thank him.... I had bettertried to mend the mirror of the wardrobe or the general's window."

  The thought of all the troubles he had caused the poor man in so shorta time made Pinocchio rather melancholy, and two big tears shone inhis bright little eyes. But suddenly he sighed a deep sigh, shruggedhis shoulders several times, and with his head high and his hands onhis hips, set off again on his way, whistling a popular song.

  He had not gone a hundred steps when he stopped suddenly, cocked hisear, listened a moment quietly, and then flung himself into the fieldswhich bordered the street. The wind brought from far off the gay notesof a military band.

  There was a huge crowd, but Pinocchio didn't give that a thought, inspite of the fact that he was very tired with his long run. By pushingand poking and kicks in the shins he got up into the front row.Soldiers were passing. At the head was a company of bicyclesharpshooters (bersaglieri), then the band, then the regiment, the RedCross ambulance, and soldiers, and a long line of sappers. Everybodyclapped, threw kisses and flowers, and overwhelmed the bersaglieriwith little gifts. The soldiers broke ranks and mingled with the crowdand answered the applause with loud cheers for Italy, the King, andthe Army. Some of them marched along in the midst of their families;weeping mothers begged their sons to be careful; the fathers bade thembe brave, reminding them of the fighting in '48, '66, '70--theglorious years of our emancipation. The little boys kept close totheir fathers, proud to see them armed like the heroes of old legends,and many of the girls besought their sweethearts: "Write to me, won'tyou? Every day I want you to write to me. If I don't get letters fromyou I shall think that you are dead and I shall weep so bitterly."

  Dead! This word affected Pinocchio so that suddenly he felt his heartbeating loudly--that strange tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock which hadstartled him earlier that morning.

  Dead? "Oh! where are they going?" he asked a sprightly old man who wasstanding near by, shouting, "Hurrah for Italy!" as if he were a boy.

  "They are going to the war."

  "Are they really off to war? Will they fire only powder from theirguns, or real, lead bullets, too?"

  "Indeed yes, real bullets, too."

  "And will they all die?"

  "We hope not all of them--but they are going to fight for the honorand greatness of their country, and he who dies for his country maydie happy."

  Pinocchio did not breathe. He scratched his head solemnly, and withhis eyes and mouth made such a face that if the little old man hadseen it he would probably have boxed his ears for him. This "diehappy" was silly. Death had always frightened him whenever he had comenear to it.

  "Have you been to war?" Pinocchio asked the little old man, halfironically.

  "Can't you see?" and he pointed to a row of medals pinned on his coat.

  "And you would go back?"

  "Certainly, if they would take me as a volunteer."

  This reply brought a strange longing to Pinocchio, all the more thatthe tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock in the box inside of his body wasmaking so much noise that it rang in his ears. And then the gay notesof the band, the joyous air of the soldiers, the cheers of the crowd,suddenly brought a strange idea into his head. The war, with itscannon, marches on one side, fighting on the other, horses dashing,flags waving in the wind, songs of victory, medals on the breast,prisoners tied together like sausages, war trophies, danced before hiseyes in a fantastic dance. The war must be just the place for him, allthe more so when he thought that it couldn't be easy to get to it ifthe little old man who had been there so often couldn't go now.

  "I, too, will go to the war with the soldiers," he said, in a lowvoice, and without wasting a moment he pushed his way between thetroops, who, now that they were approaching the station, began toclose up the ranks. He found himself by the side of a young blondsoldier, who seemed more lonely and sad than the others.

  "Will you take me with you?" Pinocchio asked, pulling at his coat.

  "Where?"

  "To the war."

  "You? Are you crazy?"

  "No, indeed."

  "And you ask me to take you with me?"

  "Whom, then, must I ask?"

  "There is the guard down there, that one with a blue scarf over hisshoulder."

  When Pinocchio got an idea in his head he had to work it out at anycost. So he repeated his demand to the lieutenant of the guard, who,smiling under his mustache, pointed out the captain inspecting thetroops. But the captain could decide nothing without the consent ofthe battalion commander, who, for his part, would have had to ask theapproval of the colonel. He advised Pinocchio to hasten matters bygoing to the adjutant, who could present his request directly to thegeneral.

  They were now in the station. The soldiers took their places in thehuge cars, around which crowded their families, friends, and thecheering, curious throng. At the end of the train some first-classcarriages were attached into which the orderlies carried thehand-baggage of their higher officers. In front of one compartmentreserved for one of these was piled up a regular mountain of smallobjects--little packages, boxes, rugs, furs, which a cavalry soldierwas trying to carry inside. The adjutant, a few feet away, was lookingon, trembling with impatience and vexation.

  "Quick! Quick! You lazybones! Quick! Quick! Mollica. GeneralWin-the-War will be here in a minute and his things are not yetinside. I'll put you under arrest for a fortnight."

  "I respectfully beg the adjutant to observe that I have only two handsfor the service of my general and of my country."

  "And I beg you to observe that the train is about to start off."

  "If the adjutant would order some one to give me a hand ..."

  "There isn't any one to be had, confound it!"

  Just at that moment Pinocchio advanced resolutely toward the adjutantto put forward his request to be enlisted.

  "Mr. Adjutant ... I have come ... to ..."

  The adjutant didn't let Pinocchio say another word, but caught hold ofhim under the chin, squeezed him, shook him gently ... and said:

  "Good! I understand ... you want to do something for the army.... Goodboy! You are the best kind of a volunteer. Fine! Help Private Mollicato carry in all this stuff and your country will be grateful to you.And you, Mollica, hurry up. I beg you to observe that now you have thefour hands you requested for the job. We understand each other, heh?"

  Then he was off toward a group of soldiers who were chalking on thedoor of one of the railway carriages in large letters: "_ThroughTrain--Venice--Trieste--Vienna_." A big crowd had gathered around,stopping the traffic.

  "Ho, boys, who told you to write _through train_? Next time askpermission from your superior officer.... There will be a little stopbefore we get there."

  "Doesn't matter, sir, as long as we _get_ there."

  "Well! You can tell when a train leaves, but not whether it will everarrive."

  "Hurrah for Italy!"

  "Good boys! I like that. But rub out what you have written. You arefirst-class soldiers, you are. We understand each other, heh?"
And offhe went.

  With Pinocchio's aid Private Mollica performed miracles. In a fewminutes the general's things were inside, beautifully arranged in thebaggage-racks.

  "You are a prodigy, boy, I tell you. You have done me a great serviceand my adjutant will be so pleased that if you will promise to keepguard here a moment I will go to tell him so that he can thank you inthe general's name."

  "Go along; I'll stay," Pinocchio replied, and took up a position infront of the door that was so soldierly you might have taken him for adistant relative of Napoleon the Great before St. Helena.

  But a minute had not gone by and Mollica had not got a hundred stepsaway when Pinocchio turned as pale as death and trembled so withfright that he almost fell off the step. He had caught sight a shortway off of General Win-the-War surrounded by a crowd of officers; andwith his marvelous vision had recognized in him Papa Geppetto'sfurious tenant, whose stained glass he had shattered a few hoursbefore, all on account of saucy Coccorito.

  He was lost; there was no possible way of escape! Win-the-War wascoming direct to his compartment and the adjutant was guiding him. Thecrowd in the way divided before him and the soldiers stood stiffly atattention. Even Mollica stood there straight as a ramrod.... Pinocchiogave a leap into the compartment, hoping to escape by the oppositedoor. But it was not possible to open it.... He heard the sound ofthe approaching steps, the ring of the spurs.... Pinocchio flunghimself down on the floor of the compartment and hid himself, facedownward, under one of the seats.

  The general, a colonel, and the adjutant got in. A band struck up thenational air; thousands of voices cheered the King, Italy, and theArmy. The soldiers responded with youthful courage.... You heard acontinual medley of good-bys and good wishes, and the quick, sharprepetition of commands. A hundred voices were singing, "Farewell, mydear one, farewell"; a hundred others sang Garibaldi's Hymn.... Therewas a profound silence in the compartment. Perhaps the superiorofficers felt the great responsibility of the moment and were moved byit. Pinocchio didn't dare breathe for fear of betraying himself, butin his breast the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock beat so loudly thathe thought it must resound all along the wooden walls of the carriage.The notes of the national air seemed to be quicker ... the cries ofthe crowd louder ... the locomotive whistled shrilly a desperategood-by ... the train began to move....

  "Gentlemen," said the general to his two companions, "let Italy's fatenow be fulfilled. To-morrow we shall cross the frontier, for the gloryof our King and for the greatness of our country. Long live Italy!"

  There was so much emotion in the old soldier's voice that Pinocchiofelt as if a rope were strangling his throat. When the train was underway, rumbling noisily along the rails, he burst out crying anddiscovered that he had a heart just as if he were a real boy!