CHAPTER 34
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Collodi, Carlo and Della Chiesa, Carol
“Hasten, Pinocchio, I beg you!” bleated the little Goat on the high rock.
And Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his body, his legs, his feet.
“Quick, Pinocchio, the monster is coming nearer!”
Pinocchio swam faster and faster, and harder and harder.
“Faster, Pinocchio! The monster will get you! There he is! There he is! Quick, quick, or you are lost!”
Pinocchio went through the water like a shot—swifter and swifter. He came close to the rock. The Goat leaned over and gave him one of her hoofs to help him up out of the water.
Alas! It was too late. The monster overtook him and the Marionette found himself in between the rows of gleaming white teeth. Only for a moment, however, for the Shark took a deep breath and, as he breathed, he drank in the Marionette as easily as he would have sucked an egg. Then he swallowed him so fast that Pinocchio, falling down into the body of the fish, lay stunned for a half hour.
When he recovered his senses the Marionette could not remember where he was. Around him all was darkness, a darkness so deep and so black that for a moment he thought he had put his head into an inkwell. He listened for a few moments and heard nothing. Once in a while a cold wind blew on his face. At first he could not understand where that wind was coming from, but after a while he understood that it came from the lungs of the monster. I forgot to tell you that the Shark was suffering from asthma, so that whenever he breathed a storm seemed to blow.
Pinocchio at first tried to be brave, but as soon as he became convinced that he was really and truly in the Shark’s stomach, he burst into sobs and tears. “Help! Help!” he cried. “Oh, poor me! Won’t someone come to save me?”
“Who is there to help you, unhappy boy?” said a rough voice, like a guitar out of tune.
“Who is talking?” asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror.
“It is I, a poor Tunny swallowed by the Shark at the same time as you. And what kind of a fish are you?”
“I have nothing to do with fishes. I am a Marionette.”
“If you are not a fish, why did you let this monster swallow you?”
“I didn’t let him. He chased me and swallowed me without even a ‘by your leave’! And now what are we to do here in the dark?”
“Wait until the Shark has digested us both, I suppose.”
“But I don’t want to be digested,” shouted Pinocchio, starting to sob.
“Neither do I,” said the Tunny, “but I am wise enough to think that if one is born a fish, it is more dignified to die under the water than in the frying pan.”
“What nonsense!” cried Pinocchio.
“Mine is an opinion,” replied the Tunny, “and opinions should be respected.”
“But I want to get out of this place. I want to escape.”
“Go, if you can!”
“Is this Shark that has swallowed us very long?” asked the Marionette.
“His body, not counting the tail, is almost a mile long.”
While talking in the darkness, Pinocchio thought he saw a faint light in the distance.
“What can that be?” he said to the Tunny.
“Some other poor fish, waiting as patiently as we to be digested by the Shark.”
“I want to see him. He may be an old fish and may know some way of escape.”
“I wish you all good luck, dear Marionette.”
“Good-by, Tunny.”
“Good-by, Marionette, and good luck.”
“When shall I see you again?”
“Who knows? It is better not to think about it.”