Pinocchio

recommenced running for his life through the wood, and the assassins after him.
At last, after a desperate race of nearly two hours, he arrived quite breathless at the door of the house, and knocked.
No one answered.
He knocked again with great violence, for he heard the sound of steps approaching him and the heavy panting of his persecutors. The same silence.
Seeing that knocking was useless, he began in desperation to kick and pommel the door with all his might. The window then opened and a beautiful Child appeared at it. She had blue hair and a face as white as a waxen image; her eyes were closed and her hands were crossed on her breast. Without moving her lips in the least, she said, in a voice that seemed to come from the other world:
“In this house there is no one. They are all dead.”
“Then at least open the door for me yourself,” shouted Pinocchio, crying and imploring.
“I am dead also.”
“Dead? Then what are you doing there at the window?”
“I am waiting for the bier to come to carry me away.”
Having said this she immediately disappeared and the window was closed again without the slightest noise.
“Oh! beautiful Child with blue hair,” cried Pinocchio, “open the door, for pity`s sake! Have compassion on a poor boy pursued by assas-“
But he could not finish the word, for he felt himself seized by the collar and the same two horrible voices said to him threateningly:
“You shall not escape from us again!”
The puppet, seeing death staring him in the face, was taken with such a violent fit of trembling that the joints of his wooden legs began to creak, and the sovereigns hidden under his tongue to clink.
“Now, then,” demanded the assassins, “will you open your mouth-yes or no? Ah! no answer? Leave it to us: this time we will force you to open it!”
And, drawing out two long, horrid knives as sharp as razors, clash!-they attempted to stab him twice.
But the puppet, luckily for him, was made of very hard wood; the knives therefore broke into a thousand pieces and the assassins were left with the handles in their hands, staring at each other.
“I see what we must do,” said one of them. “He must be hung! let us hang him!”
“Let us hang him!” repeated the other.
Without loss of time they tied his arms behind him, passed a running noose round his throat, and hung him to the branch of a tree called the Big Oak.
They then sat down on the grass and waited for his last struggle. But at the end of three hours the puppet`s eyes were still open, his mouth closed, and he was kicking more than ever.
Losing patience, they turned to Pinocchio and said in a bantering tone:
“Good-bye till tomorrow. Let us hope that when we return you will be polite enough to allow yourself to be found quite dead, and with your mouth wide open.”
And they walked off.
In the meantime a tempestuous northerly wind began to blow and roar angrily, and it beat the poor puppet from side to side, making him swing violently, like the clatter of a bell ringing for a wedding. And the swinging gave him atrocious spasms, and the running noose, becoming still tighter round his throat, took away his breath.
Little by little his eyes began to grow dim, but although he felt that death was near he still continued to hope that some charitable person would come to his assistance before it was too late. But when, after waiting and waiting, he found that no one came, absolutely no one, then he remembered his poor father, and, thinking he was dying, he stammered out:
“Oh, papa! papa! if only you were here!”
His breath failed him and he could say no more. He shut his eyes, opened his mouth, stretched his legs, gave a long shudder, and hung stiff and insensible.
CHAPTER XVI
THE BEAUTIFUL CHILD RESCUES THE PUPPET
While poor Pinocchio, suspended to a branch of the Big Oak, was apparently more dead than alive, the beautiful Child with blue hair came again to the window. When she saw the unhappy puppet hanging by his throat, and dancing up and down in the gusts of the north wind, she was moved by compassion. Striking her hands together, she gave three little claps.
At this signal there came a sound of the sweep of wings flying rapidly and a large Falcon flew on to the window-sill.
“What are your orders, gracious Fairy?” he asked, inclining his beak in sign of reverence.
“Do you see that puppet dangling from a branch of the Big Oak?”
“I see him.”
“Very well. Fly there at once: with your strong beak break the knot that keeps him suspended in the air, and lay him gently on the grass at the foot of the tree.”
The Falcon flew away and after two minutes he returned, saying:
“I have done as you commanded.”
“And how did you find him?”
“To see him he appeared dead, but he cannot really be quite dead, for I had no sooner loosened the running noose that tightened his throat than, giving a sigh, he muttered in a faint voice: `Now I feel better!`”
The Fairy then struck her hands together twice and a magnificent Poodle appeared, walking upright on his hind legs exactly as if he had been a man.
He was in the full-dress livery of a coachman. On his head he had a three-cornered cap braided with gold, his curly white wig came down on to his shoulders, he had a chocolate-colored waistcoat with diamond buttons, and two large pockets to contain the bones that his mistress gave him at dinner. He had, besides, a pair of short crimson velvet breeches, silk stockings, cut-down shoes, and hanging behind him a species of umbrella case made of blue satin, to put his tail into when the weather was rainy.
“Be quick, Medoro, like a good dog!” said the Fairy to the Poodle. “Have the most beautiful carriage in my coach-house harnessed, and take the road to the wood. When you come to the Big Oak you will find a poor puppet stretched on the grass half dead. Pick him up gently and lay him flat on the cushions of the carriage and bring him here to me. Do you understand?”
The Poodle, to show that he had understood, shook the case of blue satin three or four times and ran off like a race-horse.
Shortly afterwards a beautiful little carriage came out of the coach-house. The cushions were stuffed with canary feathers and it was lined on the inside with whipped cream, custard and vanilla wafers. The little carriage was drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle, seated on the coach-box, cracked his whip from side to side like a driver when he is afraid that he is behind time.
Scarcely had a quarter of an hour passed, when the carriage returned. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, took the poor puppet in her arms and carried him into a little room that was wainscoted with mother-of-pearl. She sent at once to summon the most famous doctors in the neighborhood.
They came immediately, one after the other: namely, a Crow, an Owl, and a Talking-Cricket.
“I wish to know from you, gentlemen,” said the Fairy, “if this unfortunate puppet is alive or dead!”
At this request the Crow, advancing first, felt Pinocchio`s pulse; he then felt his nose and then the little toe of his foot: and, having done this carefully, he pronounced solemnly the following words:
“To my belief the puppet is already quite dead; but, if unfortunately he should not be dead, then it would be a sign that he is still alive!”
“I regret,” said the Owl, “to be obliged to contradict the Crow, my illustrious friend and colleague; but, in my opinion the puppet is still alive; but, if unfortunately he should not be alive, then it would be a sign that he is dead indeed!”
“And you-have you nothing to say?” asked the Fairy of the Talking-Cricket.
“In my opinion, the wisest thing a prudent doctor can do, when he does not know what he is talking about, is to be silent. For the rest, that puppet there has a face that is not new to me. I have known him for some time!”
Pinocchio, who up to that moment had lain immovable, like a real piece of wood, was seized with a fit of convulsive trembling that shook the whole bed.
“That puppet there,” continued the Talking-Cricket, “is a confirmed rogue.”
Pinocchio opened his eyes, but shut them again immediately.
“He is a ragamuffin, a do-nothing, a vagabond.”
Pinocchio hid his face beneath the clothes.
“That puppet there is a disobedient son who will make his poor father die of a broken heart!”
At that instant a suffocated sound of sobs and crying was heard in the room. Imagine everybody`s astonishment when, having raised the sheets a little, it was discovered that the sounds came from Pinocchio.
“When a dead person cries, it is a sign that he is on the road to get well,” said the Crow solemnly.
“I grieve to contradict my illustrious friend and colleague,” added the Owl; “but for me, when the dead person cries, it is a sign that he is sorry to die.”
CHAPTER XVII
PINOCCHIO WILL NOT TAKE HIS MEDICINE
As soon as the three doctors had left the room the Fairy approached Pinocchio and, having touched his forehead, she perceived that he was in a high fever.
She therefore dissolved a certain white powder in half a tumbler of water and, offering it to the puppet, she said to him lovingly:
“Drink it and in a few days you will be cured.”
Pinocchio looked at the tumbler, made a wry face, and then asked in a plaintive voice:
“Is it sweet or bitter?”
“It is bitter, but it will do you good.”
“If it is bitter, I will not take it.”
“Listen to me: drink it.”
“I don`t like anything bitter.”
“Drink it, and when you have drunk it I will give you a lump of sugar to take away the taste.”
“Where is the lump of sugar?”
“Here it is,” said the Fairy, taking a piece from a gold sugar-basin.
“Give me first the lump of sugar and then I will drink that bad bitter water.”
“Do you promise me?”
“Yes.”
The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, having crunched it up and swallowed it in a second, said, licking his lips:
“It would be a fine thing if sugar were medicine! I would take it every day.”
“Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water, which…