Pinocchio finally ceases to be a Marionette and becomes a boy
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Collodi, Carlo and Della Chiesa, Carol
Farmer John took the Marionette to the well and showed him how to draw the water. Pinocchio set to work as well as he knew how, but long before he had pulled up the one hundred buckets, he was tired out and dripping with perspiration. He had never worked so hard in his life.
“Until today,” said the Farmer, “my donkey has drawn the water for me, but now that poor animal is dying.”
“Will you take me to see him?” said Pinocchio.
“Gladly.”
As soon as Pinocchio went into the stable, he spied a little Donkey lying on a bed of straw in the corner of the stable. He was worn out from hunger and too much work. After looking at him a long time, he said to himself: “I know that Donkey! I have seen him before.”
And bending low over him, he asked: “Who are you?”
At this question, the Donkey opened weary, dying eyes and answered in the same tongue: “I am Lamp-Wick.”
Then he closed his eyes and died.
“Oh, my poor Lamp-Wick,” said Pinocchio in a faint voice, as he wiped his eyes with some straw he had picked up from the ground.
“Do you feel so sorry for a little donkey that has cost you nothing?” said the Farmer. “What should I do—I, who have paid my good money for him?”
“But, you see, he was my friend.”
“Your friend?”
“A classmate of mine.”
“What,” shouted Farmer John, bursting out laughing. “What! You had donkeys in your school? How you must have studied!”
The Marionette, ashamed and hurt by those words, did not answer, but taking his glass of milk returned to his father.
From that day on, for more than five months, Pinocchio got up every morning just as dawn was breaking and went to the farm to draw water. And every day he was given a glass of warm milk for his poor old father, who grew stronger and better day by day. But he was not satisfied with this. He learned to make baskets of reeds and sold them. With the money he received, he and his father were able to keep from starving.
Among other things, he built a rolling chair, strong and comfortable, to take his old father out for an airing on bright, sunny days.
In the evening the Marionette studied by lamplight. With some of the money he had earned, he bought himself a secondhand volume that had a few pages missing, and with that he learned to read in a very short time. As far as writing was concerned, he used a long stick at one end of which he had whittled a long, fine point. Ink he had none, so he used the juice of blackberries or cherries. Little by little his diligence was rewarded. He succeeded, not only in his studies, but also in his work, and a day came when he put enough money together to keep his old father comfortable and happy. Besides this, he was able to save the great amount of fifty pennies. With it he wanted to buy himself a new suit.
One day he said to his father:
“I am going to the market place to buy myself a coat, a cap, and a pair of shoes. When I come back I’ll be so dressed up, you will think I am a rich man.”
He ran out of the house and up the road to the village, laughing and singing. Suddenly he heard his name called, and looking around to see whence the voice came, he noticed a large snail crawling out of some bushes.
“Don’t you recognize me?” said the Snail.
“Yes and no.”
“Do you remember the Snail that lived with the Fairy with Azure Hair? Do you not remember how she opened the door for you one night and gave you something to eat?”
“I remember everything,” cried Pinocchio. “Answer me quickly, pretty Snail, where have you left my Fairy? What is she doing? Has she forgiven me? Does she remember me? Does she still love me? Is she very far away from here? May I see her?”
At all these questions, tumbling out one after another, the Snail answered, calm as ever:
“My dear Pinocchio, the Fairy is lying ill in a hospital.”
“In a hospital?”
“Yes, indeed. She has been stricken with trouble and illness, and she hasn’t a penny left with which to buy a bite of bread.”
“Really? Oh, how sorry I am! My poor, dear little Fairy! If I had a million I should run to her with it! But I have only fifty pennies. Here they are. I was just going to buy some clothes. Here, take them, little Snail, and give them to my good Fairy.”
“What about the new clothes?”
“What does that matter? I should like to sell these rags I have on to help her more. Go, and hurry. Come back here within a couple of days and I hope to have more money for you! Until today I have worked for my father. Now I shall have to work for my mother also. Good-by, and I hope to see you soon.”
The Snail, much against her usual habit, began to run like a lizard under a summer sun.
When Pinocchio returned home, his father asked him:
“And where is the new suit?”
“I couldn’t find one to fit me. I shall have to look again some other day.”
That night, Pinocchio, instead of going to bed at ten o’clock waited until midnight, and instead of making eight baskets, he made sixteen.
After that he went to bed and fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamed of his Fairy, beautiful, smiling, and happy, who kissed him and said to him, “Bravo, Pinocchio! In reward for your kind heart, I forgive you for all your old mischief. Boys who love and take good care of their parents when they are old and sick, deserve praise even though they may not be held up as models of obedience and good behavior. Keep on doing so well, and you will be happy.”
At that very moment, Pinocchio awoke and opened wide his eyes.
What was his surprise and his joy when, on looking himself over, he saw that he was no longer a Marionette, but that he had become a real live boy! He looked all about him and instead of the usual walls of straw, he found himself in a beautifully furnished little room, the prettiest he had ever seen. In a twinkling, he jumped down from his bed to look on the chair standing near. There, he found a new suit, a new hat, and a pair of shoes.