Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi Page B

drink!”
    â€œNow come sit over here by me and tell me how it happened that you found yourself in the clutches of murderers.”
    â€œIt happened because Fire-Eater, the puppet master, gave me five gold coins and said to me, ‘Here, take these to your daddy,’ but on the way I ran into the Fox and the Cat, two very nice fellows who said, ‘Would you like these coins to become a thousand or two thousand? Come with us and we’ll take you to the Field of Miracles,’ and I said, ‘Let’s go,’ and they said, ‘Let’s stop here at the Red Crayfish Inn, and after midnight we’ll set out again,’ and then when I woke up they weren’t around because they had already left. So I began walking in the middle of the night, which was so dark I couldn’t believe it, which is why I ran into two murderers in coal sacks who said, ‘Out with your money,’ and I said, ‘I don’t have any,’ because I had hidden the gold coins in my mouth, and then one of the murderers tried to stick his hand in my mouth, so I bit it right off and spat it out, but instead of a hand it was a cat’s paw. And the murderers ran after me, and I ran and ran and ran, until they caught me and strung me up by my neck from a tree in these woods, saying, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come back, and then you’ll be dead and your mouth will be open, so we can get the gold coins you’ve hidden under your tongue.’”
    â€œAnd where have you put the four coins now?”
    â€œI lost them!” replied Pinocchio. But he was telling a lie—he had the coins in his pocket.
    As soon as he told the lie, his nose, which was already long, suddenly grew two inches longer.
    â€œAnd where did you lose them?”
    â€œIn the woods, nearby.”
    At this second lie, his nose continued growing.
    â€œIf you lost them nearby in the woods,” said the Fairy, “we’ll look for them and find them, because anything that’s lost nearby in the woods is always found again.”
    â€œAh, now that I think of it,” replied the puppet, getting himself in deeper, “I didn’t lose the four coins, I accidentally swallowed them as I was drinking your medicine.”
    At this third lie, his nose grew to such an extraordinary length that poor Pinocchio could no longer even turn his head. If he turned in one direction, he banged his nose against the bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned in the other, he banged it against the wall or into the door; if he lifted his head a little, he ran the risk of poking the Fairy in the eye.
    And the Fairy looked at him and laughed.
    â€œWhy are you laughing?” asked the puppet, thoroughly confounded and worried about this nose of his that was growing by leaps and bounds.
    â€œI’m laughing at the lie you told.”
    â€œBut how did you know I told a lie?”
    â€œLies, my boy, are immediately recognizable, for there are two kinds: lies that have short legs and lies that have long noses. Yours happen to be the long-nosed variety.”
    Pinocchio, wanting to hide his face in shame, tried to run from the room—but he couldn’t. His nose was so long that it wouldn’t fit through the doorway.

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    A S YOU might imagine, the Fairy let the puppet weep and wail for a good half hour about that nose of his that could no longer fit through the doorway. She did it to teach him a hard lesson, so that he might break the ugly habit of telling lies, which is the worst vice a child can have. But seeing him so transfigured, his eyes bulging out of their sockets in true despair, she was soon moved to pity, and then she clapped her hands together. At that signal a thousand woodpeckers flew through the window into the room. Every one of them perched on Pinocchio’s nose, and they began pecking at it so vigorously that in a few minutes that enormous, whopping nose was restored to its natural