Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi Page A

bitterness.”
    â€œWhere’s the lump of sugar?”
    â€œRight here,” said the Fairy, extracting one from a gold sugar bowl.
    â€œFirst I want the lump of sugar, and then I’ll choke down that bitter stuff.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œYes.”
    As soon as the Fairy handed him the lump of sugar, Pinocchio chewed it up and gulped it down. Licking his lips, he said, “Wouldn’t it be great if sugar was medicine, too? I’d take some every day.”
    â€œNow keep your promise and drink these few drops, which will restore you to health.”
    Pinocchio reluctantly took the glass from her hand and stuck the tip of his nose in it. Then he brought it up to his lips. But in the end he said, “It’s too bitter! too bitter! I can’t drink it.”
    â€œHow can you say that if you haven’t even tasted it?”
    â€œI can tell! I smelled it. First I want another lump of sugar—then I’ll drink it!”
    And so, with all the patience of a good mother, the Fairy put a little more sugar in his mouth. Then she gave him the glass again.
    â€œI can’t drink it like this!” said the puppet, making all kinds of faces.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause that pillow down there on my feet is bothering me.”
    The Fairy removed the pillow.
    â€œIt’s no use! I still can’t bear to drink it.”
    â€œWhat else is bothering you?”
    â€œThe door to this room—it’s open.”
    The Fairy went and closed the door.
    â€œThe fact is,” yelled Pinocchio, bursting into tears, “I just won’t drink this nasty bitter stuff—I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!”
    â€œYou’ll be sorry, my boy.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œYou’re terribly ill.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œIn a few hours the fever will carry you to the world beyond.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œYou’re not afraid of death?”
    â€œNot at all! I’d rather die than drink that nasty medicine.”
    At these words, the door flew open and four ink-black rabbits entered the room, carrying a little coffin on their shoulders.
    â€œWhat do you want with me?” yelled Pinocchio, sitting bolt upright in fear.
    â€œWe’ve come to take you away,” replied the largest rabbit.
    â€œTo take me away? But I’m not dead yet!”
    â€œNot yet, no. But you have only a few minutes left to live, since you’ve refused to drink the medicine that would have cured your fever!”
    â€œOh Fairy, oh Fairy,” the puppet began to howl, “give me that glass at once. And hurry up, for pity’s sake, for I don’t want to die—no, I don’t want to die!”
    He seized the glass in both hands and emptied it in a single swallow.
    â€œWell then!” said the rabbits. “We made the trip for nothing this time.”
    And they lifted the little coffin back onto their shoulders and left the room, grousing and grumbling under their breath.
    Indeed a few minutes later, Pinocchio hopped out of bed, perfectly healthy. Wooden puppets, you see, have the advantage of falling ill only rarely and of then healing quite quickly.
    Seeing him running and romping around the room as spry and jolly as a young buck, the Fairy said, “So my medicine really made you feel better?”
    â€œMore than that! It brought me back to life!”
    â€œIn that case why did you make such a fuss about drinking it?”
    â€œBecause that’s what all kids do! We’re more afraid of taking medicine than of being sick.”
    â€œShame on you! Children should know that the right medicine at the right time can save them from a serious illness and maybe even from death.”
    â€œWell, next time I won’t make such a fuss! I’ll remember those black rabbits, with that coffin on their shoulders—and then I’ll grab the glass at once and