CHAPTER 17
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Collodi, Carlo and Della Chiesa, Carol
Pinocchio eats sugar, but refuses to take medicine. When the undertakers come for him, he drinks the medicine and feels better. Afterwards he tells a lie and, in punishment, his nose grows longer and longer.
As soon as the three doctors had left the room, the Fairy went to Pinocchio’s bed and, touching him on the forehead, noticed that he was burning with fever.
She took a glass of water, put a white powder into it, and, handing it to the Marionette, said lovingly to him:
“Drink this, and in a few days you’ll be up and well.”
Pinocchio looked at the glass, made a wry face, and asked in a whining voice: “Is it sweet or bitter?”
“It is bitter, but it is good for you.”
“If it is bitter, I don’t want it.”
“Drink it!”
“I don’t like anything bitter.”
“Drink it and I’ll give you a lump of sugar to take the bitter taste from your mouth.”
“Where’s the sugar?”
“Here it is,” said the Fairy, taking a lump from a golden sugar bowl.
“I want the sugar first, then I’ll drink the bitter water.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes.”
The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, after chewing and swallowing it in a twinkling, said, smacking his lips:
“If only sugar were medicine! I should take it every day.”
“Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water. They’ll be good for you.”
Pinocchio took the glass in both hands and stuck his nose into it. He lifted it to his mouth and once more stuck his nose into it.
“It is too bitter, much too bitter! I can’t drink it.”
“How do you know, when you haven’t even tasted it?”
“I can imagine it. I smell it. I want another lump of sugar, then I’ll drink it.”
The Fairy, with all the patience of a good mother, gave him more sugar and again handed him the glass.
“I can’t drink it like that,” the Marionette said, making more wry faces.
“Why?”
“Because that feather pillow on my feet bothers me.”
The Fairy took away the pillow.
“It’s no use. I can’t drink it even now.”
“What’s the matter now?”
“I don’t like the way that door looks. It’s half open.”
The Fairy closed the door.
“I won’t drink it,” cried Pinocchio, bursting out crying. “I won’t drink this awful water. I won’t. I won’t! No, no, no, no!”
“My boy, you’ll be sorry.”
“I don’t care.”
“You are very sick.”
“I don’t care.”
“In a few hours the fever will take you far away to another world.”
“I don’t care.”
“Aren’t you afraid of death?”
“Not a bit. I’d rather die than drink that awful medicine.”