The Adventures of Pinocchio - Chapter
Pinocchio hated the dark street, but
he was so hungry
that, in spite of it, he ran out of the house. The night
pitch black. It thundered, and bright flashes of lightning
now and again shot across the sky, turning it into a sea
fire. An angry wind blew cold and raised dense clouds of
dust, while the trees shook and moaned in a weird way.
Pinocchio was greatly afraid of thunder and lightning,
but the hunger he felt was far greater than his fear. In
dozen leaps and bounds, he came to the village, tired out,
puffing like a whale, and with tongue hanging.
The whole village was dark and deserted. The stores
were closed, the doors, the windows. In the streets, not
even a dog could be seen. It seemed the Village of the
Pinocchio, in desperation, ran up to a doorway, threw
himself upon the bell, and pulled it wildly, saying to
"Someone will surely answer that!"
He was right. An old man in a nightcap opened the
window and looked out. He called down angrily:
"What do you want at this
hour of night?"
"Will you be good enough
to give me a bit of bread?
I am hungry."
"Wait a minute and I'll come right back," answered
old fellow, thinking he had to deal with one of those boys
who love to roam around at night ringing people's bells
while they are peacefully asleep.
After a minute or two, the same voice cried:
"Get under the window and
hold out your hat!"
Pinocchio had no hat, but he managed to get under the
window just in time to feel a shower of ice-cold water
pour down on his poor wooden head, his shoulders, and
over his whole body.
He returned home as wet as a rag, and tired out from
weariness and hunger.
As he no longer had any strength left with which to
stand, he sat down on a little stool and put his two feet
the stove to dry them.
There he fell asleep, and while he slept, his wooden
feet began to burn. Slowly, very slowly, they blackened
and turned to ashes.
Pinocchio snored away happily as if his feet were not
his own. At dawn he opened his eyes just as a loud knocking
sounded at the door.
"Who is it?" he called,
yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"It is I," answered
It was the voice of Geppetto.