CHAPTER 32
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Collodi, Carlo and Della Chiesa, Carol
Pinocchio’s ears become like those of a Donkey. In a little while he changes into a real Donkey and begins to bray.
Everyone, at one time or another, has found some surprise awaiting him. Of the kind which Pinocchio had on that eventful morning of his life, there are but few.
What was it? I will tell you, my dear little readers. On awakening, Pinocchio put his hand up to his head and there he found—
Guess!
He found that, during the night, his ears had grown at least ten full inches!
You must know that the Marionette, even from his birth, had very small ears, so small indeed that to the naked eye they could hardly be seen. Fancy how he felt when he noticed that overnight those two dainty organs had become as long as shoe brushes!
He went in search of a mirror, but not finding any, he just filled a basin with water and looked at himself. There he saw what he never could have wished to see. His manly figure was adorned and enriched by a beautiful pair of donkey’s ears.
I leave you to think of the terrible grief, the shame, the despair of the poor Marionette.
He began to cry, to scream, to knock his head against the wall, but the more he shrieked, the longer and the more hairy grew his ears.
At those piercing shrieks, a Dormouse came into the room, a fat little Dormouse, who lived upstairs. Seeing Pinocchio so grief-stricken, she asked him anxiously:
“What is the matter, dear little neighbor?”
“I am sick, my little Dormouse, very, very sick—and from an illness which frightens me! Do you understand how to feel the pulse?”
“A little.”
“Feel mine then and tell me if I have a fever.”
The Dormouse took Pinocchio’s wrist between her paws and, after a few minutes, looked up at him sorrowfully and said: “My friend, I am sorry, but I must give you some very sad news.”
“What is it?”
“You have a very bad fever.”
“But what fever is it?”
“The donkey fever.”
“I don’t know anything about that fever,” answered the Marionette, beginning to understand even too well what was happening to him.
“Then I will tell you all about it,” said the Dormouse. “Know then that, within two or three hours, you will no longer be a Marionette, nor a boy.”
“What shall I be?”
“Within two or three hours you will become a real donkey, just like the ones that pull the fruit carts to market.”
“Oh, what have I done? What have I done?” cried Pinocchio, grasping his two long ears in his hands and pulling and tugging at them angrily, just as if they belonged to another.
“My dear boy,” answered the Dormouse to cheer him up a bit, “why worry now? What is done cannot be undone, you know. Fate has decreed that all lazy boys who come to hate books and schools and teachers and spend all their days with toys and games must sooner or later turn into donkeys.”
“But is it really so?” asked the Marionette, sobbing bitterly.
“I am sorry to say it is. And tears now are useless. You should have thought of all this before.”
“But the fault is not mine. Believe me, little Dormouse, the fault is all Lamp-Wick’s.”
“And who is this Lamp-Wick?”
“A classmate of mine. I wanted to return home. I wanted to be obedient. I wanted to study and to succeed in school, but Lamp-Wick said to me, ‘Why do you want to waste your time studying? Why do you want to go to school? Come with me to the Land of Toys. There we’ll never study again. There we can enjoy ourselves and be happy from morn till night.’”
“And why did you follow the advice of that false friend?”
“Why? Because, my dear little Dormouse, I am a heedless Marionette—heedless and heartless. Oh! If I had only had a bit of heart, I should never have abandoned that good Fairy, who loved me so well and who has been so kind to me! And by this time, I should no longer be a Marionette. I should have become a real boy, like all these friends of mine! Oh, if I meet Lamp-Wick I am going to tell him what I think of him—and more, too!”
After this long speech, Pinocchio walked to the door of the room. But when he reached it, remembering his donkey ears, he felt ashamed to show them to the public and turned back. He took a large cotton bag from a shelf, put it on his head, and pulled it far down to his very nose.
Thus adorned, he went out. He looked for Lamp-Wick everywhere, along the streets, in the squares, inside the theatres, everywhere; but he was not to be found. He asked everyone whom he met about him, but no one had seen him. In desperation, he returned home and knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” asked Lamp-Wick from within.
“It is I!” answered the Marionette.
“Wait a minute.”
After a full half hour the door opened. Another surprise awaited Pinocchio! There in the room stood his friend, with a large cotton bag on his head, pulled far down to his very nose.
At the sight of that bag, Pinocchio felt slightly happier and thought to himself:
“My friend must be suffering from the same sickness that I am! I wonder if he, too, has donkey fever?”