his puppet; he calls him Pinocchio; the puppet gets into mischief
Geppetto’s little room on the ground floor was lit by a window under the stairs. His furniture could not have been simpler. An old chair, a tottering bed, and a broken-down table. At the back of the room you could see a fireplace, with the fire lit; but the fire was painted, and over the fire was painted a kettle boiling merrily, with a cloud of steam that was just like real steam.
As soon as he arrived home, Geppetto took his tools and began to make his puppet.
‘What shall I call him?’ he asked himself. ‘I think I shall call him Pinocchio. That name will bring him good luck. I once knew a whole family of Pinocchios: there was Pinocchio the father, and Pinocchia the mother, and Pinocchii the children, and they all got along splendidly. The richest of them was a beggar.’
Having thought out a name for his puppet, he started his work with great determination. He made his hair, his forehead, and his eyes in a very short time.
As soon as the eyes were finished, imagine his bewilderment when he saw them moving and looking at him!
When Geppetto saw those two wooden eyes looking at him, he did not like it at all, and he said angrily, ‘Naughty wooden eyes, why are you staring at me?’
But no one answered.
After the eyes, he made the nose; but as soon as it was finished, it began to grow. It grew, and it grew, and in a few minutes’ time it was as long as if there was no end to it.
Poor Geppetto worked fast to shorten it; but the more he cut it off, the longer that insolent nose became.
After the nose, he made the mouth; but before he had finished it, it began to laugh and poke fun at him.
‘Stop laughing!’ said Geppetto; but he might as well have spoken to the wall.
‘Stop laughing, I say!’ he shouted, menacingly.
The mouth stopped laughing, and stuck out its tongue.
However, as Geppetto did not want to spoil the puppet, he pretended not to see it, and continued his work.
After the mouth, he made the chin, then the neck, the shoulders, the stomach, the arms, and the hands.
As soon as the hands were finished, Geppetto’s wig was snatched from his head. He looked up, and what should he see but his yellow wig in the puppet’s hands.
‘Pinocchio! Give me back my wig at once!’
But Pinocchio, instead of giving back the wig, put it on his own head, and was almost hidden under it.
This cheeky, mocking behaviour made Geppetto feel sadder than ever before in his life. He turned to Pinocchio, and said, ‘You scoundrel of a son! You are not even finished, and you already disobey your father! That’s bad, my boy – very bad!’ And he wiped away a tear.
There were still the legs and feet to make.
When Geppetto had finished the feet, he received a kick on the nose.
‘It serves me right,’ he said to himself. ‘I should have thought of it before. Now it is too late.’
He took the puppet in his hands, and put him down on the floor to see if he could walk; but Pinocchio’s legs were stiff, and he did not know how to move them. So Geppetto led him by the hand, and showed him how to put one foot before the other.
When the stiffness went out of his legs, Pinocchio started to walk alone, and run around the room; and finally he slipped through the door into the street and ran away.
Poor old Geppetto ran after him as quickly as he could, but he did not catch him, for the little rascal jumped like a rabbit, and his wooden feet clattered on the pavement, making as much noise as twenty pairs of wooden shoes.
‘Catch him! Catch him!’ cried Geppetto.
But when the people saw that wooden puppet running as fast as a racehorse, they looked at him in amazement, and then laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until their sides were aching.
At last, by some lucky chance, a policeman came and when he heard the clatter, he thought somebody’s horse had run away from its master. So he courageously stood in the middle of the street with his legs apart, in order to stop it, and prevent any more trouble.
From far away, Pinocchio saw the policeman barricading the street, and he decided to run between his legs; but he failed dismally.
The policeman, without moving from his place, picked him up by the nose – that ridiculous, long nose, that seemed made on purpose to be caught by policemen – and returned him to Geppetto, who wanted to pull his ears to punish him for his naughtiness. Imagine what he felt when he could not find any ears! And do you know why? Because he had made him in such a hurry that he had forgotten his ears.
So he took him by the nape of his neck, and as they walked away he said, shaking his head menacingly, ‘You just come home, and I’ll settle your account when we get there!’
At 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