Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The frequent use of ellipses has been retained as printed.
On page 19, "I had better tried" should possibly be "I had better
try".
THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO
[Illustration: "BUT SMELL THIS" ... AND WHILE HE SPOKE THE RASCAL OF
A PINOCCHIO TOOK IN BOTH HIS HANDS THE DISH AND HELD IT CLOSE TO
STOLZ'S NOSE]
THE HEART OF
PINOCCHIO
_New Adventures of the
Celebrated Little Puppet_
_By_
COLLODI NIPOTE
(_Paolo Lorenzini_)
_Adapted from the Italian by_
VIRGINIA WATSON
_With Drawings by
J. R. Flanagan_
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
_The Twilight Series_
Imaginative Stories and Fairy Tales
Illustrated--Jackets Printed in Colors
THE HOLLOW TREE AND DEEP WOODS BOOK. By A. B. Paine
THE HOLLOW TREE SNOWED-IN BOOK. By A. B. Paine
HOLLOW TREE NIGHTS AND DAYS. By A. B. Paine
ALICE IN WONDERLAND. By Lewis Carroll
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS. By Lewis Carroll
HOME FAIRY TALES. By Jean Mace
DANISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. By J. Christian Bay
FAVORITE FAIRY TALES. Illustrated by Peter Newell
TWILIGHT LAND. By Howard Pyle
THE DWARF'S TAILOR. By Zoe Dana Underhill
FAIRY BOOK. By Edouard Laboulaye
LAST FAIRY TALES. By Edouard Laboulaye
PINOCCHIO. By Carlo Collodi
THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO. By Collodi Nipote
THE WATER BABIES. By Charles Kingsley
THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO
Copyright, 1919, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. _How Pinocchio Discovered that He Had a Heart and Had
Become a Real Boy_ 1
II. _How Pinocchio Recognized the Advantages of His
Wooden Body_ 22
III. _How Pinocchio Sent a Solemn Protest to Francis
Joseph to Rectify an Official Bulletin_ 33
IV. _How Pinocchio Learned that War Changes Everything--Even
the Meaning of Words_ 62
V. _In Which Pinocchio Discovers that Sometimes When You
Want to Advance You Have to Take a Step Backward_ 78
VI. _Wherein We See Pinocchio's Heart_ 92
VII. _How Pinocchio Came Face to Face with Our Alpine
Troops_ 110
VIII. _How Pinocchio Made Two Beasts Sing--Contrary to
Nature_ 135
IX. _How Pinocchio Complained Because He Was No Longer
a Wooden Puppet_ 151
X. _Many Deeds and Few Words_ 177
XI. _And Now--Finished or Not Finished_ 199
ILLUSTRATIONS
"_But smell this_" ... _and while he spoke the
rascal of a Pinocchio took in both hands the
dish and held it close to Stolz's nose_ _Frontispiece_
"_I see the suet-eaters_" _Facing page_ 36
_He saw a rag tied to a pole waving_ " 42
"_You beastly little creature, what game are you
playing?_" " 46
_One day he managed to capture a pig and to drag
it along behind him_ " 62
_His foot caught Cutemup right in the stomach and
knocked him breathless_ " 88
_Pinocchio did his best to get on his feet, but
couldn't succeed_ " 116
_Ciampanella, the company cook_ " 134
INTRODUCTION
Dear Boys and Girls,--Let us hope that none of you has been so
unfortunate as to have missed the pleasure of watching sometime or
other a puppet show. Probably Punch and Judy is the one you know best,
but there are many others with jolly little fellows who dance in and
out of all sorts of adventures. So you can imagine Pinocchio, the hero
of this book, as one of those lively puppets. And, in case you have
never read the earlier book about him, you will want to know something
of what happened to him before you meet him in these pages.
One day a poor carpenter, called Master Cherry, began to cut up a
piece of wood to make a table-leg of it when, to his utmost amazement,
the piece of wood cried out, "Do not strike me so hard!" The
frightened carpenter stopped for a moment, and when he began again and
struck the wood a blow with his ax the voice cried out once more,
"Oh, oh! you have hurt me so!" The carpenter was now so terrified that
he was only too glad to turn the piece of wood over to a neighbor,
Papa Geppetto, who cut it up into the shape of a boy puppet, painted
it, and named it Pinocchio--which means "a piece of pinewood." As soon
as he had finished making him, Pinocchio grabbed the old man's wig off
his head and started in to play tricks. Papa Geppetto then taught the
puppet to walk, and when naughty Pinocchio discovered he could use his
legs, he ran away. Then began all kinds of adventures, and Pinocchio
was sometimes naughty and selfish, and sometimes kind and considerate,
but always funny and jolly.
In this new book Pinocchio's heart has grown through love and
consideration for others, so that he becomes a real boy and takes part
in the war to help his beautiful country, Italy.
THE TRANSLATOR.
THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO
[Illustration]
THE HEART OF PINOCCHIO
CHAPTER I
_How Pinocchio Discovered That He Had a Heart and Had Become a Real
Boy_
He yawned, stuck out his tongue and licked the end of his nose, opened
his eyes, shut them again, opened them once more and rubbed them
vigorously with the back of his hand, jumped up, and then sat down on
the sofa, listening intently for several minutes, after which he
scratched his noddle solemnly. When Pinocchio scratched his head in
this way you could be sure that there was trouble in the air. And so
there was. The room was empty, the windows closed, and the door as
well; no noise came from the still quiet street; a deep silence
filled the air, yet there, right there, close to him, he heard queer
sounds like blows--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock ...
tick-tock.
[Illustration]
It sounded like some one who was amusing himself by rapping with his
knuckles on a wooden box--tick-tock ... tick-tock ... tick-tock.
"But who is it?" called out the puppet, suddenly, jumping down from
the sofa and running to peer into every corner of the room. When he
had knocked over the chest, rummaged the wardrobe with the mirror,
upset the little table, turned over the chairs, pulled the pictures
off the walls, and torn down the window-curtains, he found himself
seated on the floor in the middle of the room, dead tired, his face
all smeared with dust and spider-webs, his shirt in tatters, his
tongue hanging out like a pointer's returning from the hunt. Yet
there, close to him, he still heard that strange tick-tock ...
tick-tock ... tick-tock ... and it seemed as if those mysterious
fingers were rapping even more quickly upon the mysterious wooden box.
Pinocchio would have pulled his hair out in desperation if Papa
Geppetto hadn't forgotten to make him any. But as the desperation of
puppets lasts just about as long as the joy of poor human beings,
Pinocchio, laying his right forefinger on the point of his magnificent
nose, calmly remarked:
"Let me argue this out. There is no one else in here but me. I am
keeping perfectly quiet, not even drawing a long breath, yet the noise
keeps up.... Then, since it is not I who am making the noise, some one
else must be making it, and as no one outside me is making it,
whatever makes it must be inside me."
This seemed reasonable, but Pinocchio, who had not expected he would
come to such a conclusion, gave a start, kicked violently, and began
to roll around on the ground, yelling as if he would split his throat:
"Help! Help!" The thought had suddenly come to him that during the
night a mouse had jumped into his mouth and down into his stomach and
was searching about in it for some way to get out. But the quieter he
kept the noisier grew the tick-tock; in fact, so loud that it seemed
to cut off his breath. Fear made him calm.
"Let me argue this out," he said again, laying his forefinger against
his nose. "It cannot be a mouse; the movement is too regular, so
regular that if I weren't sure that I went to bed without supper I
should think I had swallowed Papa Geppetto's watch by mistake.... Hm!
If he hadn't told me time and time again that I am only a little
puppet without a heart I should almost believe that I had one down
inside me, and that this tick-tock were indeed ..."
"Just so!"
"Who said 'Just so'? Who said 'Just so'?" called Pinocchio, looking
around in terror. Naturally no one answered him.
"Hm! Did I dream it?" he asked himself. "And even if there is any one
who thinks he can frighten me with his 'just so' he will find himself
much mistaken. A brave boy does not know what fear is, and I begin to
think ...
"'Just so' or not 'just so,' if any one has anything to say to me let
him come forward and he will learn what kind of blows I can give."
[Illustration]
He turned round and stepped back a few steps. It seemed to him that
some one was making a threatening gesture at him. Without hesitating a
moment, he rushed forward with his head down, thrashing out blows like
a madman. Then he heard a terrible smashing of glass. Pinocchio had
hit out at his own image in the wardrobe mirror, which naturally was
shattered to bits. There is no need for me to tell you how he felt,
because you will have no trouble in picturing it for yourselves.
"But how did I come to make such a blunder?" he asked himself, as soon
as he had recovered from his surprise. "How did I happen not to
recognize myself in the mirror? Am I really so changed...? Can I
indeed be changed into a real little boy or am I a puppet as I always
was?"
"Just so! Just so! Just so!"
This time there could be no doubt about it. Pinocchio sprang toward
the window, opened it, and stuck his head out. There below, a few feet
lower down, was a beautiful terrace covered with flowering plants. In
the midst of the plants was a stand, and on the stand a magnificent
green parrot who just at that moment was scratching under his beak
with his claw, and looking around him with one eye open. Down in the
street below there was not a soul to be seen.
"Oh, you ugly beast! Was it you who was chattering 'just so, just so,
just so'?"
The parrot burst out into a crazy laugh and began to sing in his
cracked voice:
"Coccorito wants to know
Who the glass gave such a blow.
Coccorito knows it well
And the master he will tell."
"Hah! Hah! Hah!" And he burst out into another guffaw. Patience, which
is the only heritage of donkeys, was certainly not Pinocchio's
principal virtue. Moreover, the parrot laughed in such a rude manner
that he would have annoyed Jove himself.
[Illustration]
"Stop it, idiot!"
"Idiot, idiot, 'yot, 'yot."
"Beast!"
"Beast!"
"Take care ..."
"Take ca-a-a-re."
"I'll give it to you."
"You, you, you."
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Who the glass gave such a blow?
Coccorito knows it well
And the master he will tell."
"Will you? I'll make you shut up. Take this, you horrid beast!"
There was a large terra-cotta pot with a fine plant of basil in it
standing on the window-sill, and the furious Pinocchio seized it in
both hands and hurled it down with all his force. Coccorito would have
come to a sad ending if the god of parrots had not protected his
topknot. The flower-pot grazed the stand and was shattered against the
marble parapet, and the pieces, falling down, hit against the large
stained-glass window opening on to the terrace and broke it.
Pinocchio, who could hardly believe that he had done so much damage,
stood still a moment and gazed stupidly at the pile of broken pieces
and at the parrot, who laughed as if he would burst. But when
Pinocchio saw a big officer rush angrily over the terrace, with his
hair brushed up on his head, a huge mustache beneath his curved nose,
and a thick switch in his hand, he was seized with such a fright that
he threw over his shoulders the first thing in the way of clothing he
could lay his hand on, rushed to the door, opened it with a kick, ran
through a small room adjoining, sped down the stairs at breakneck
speed, flung open the street door and--Heavens! He felt a violent
blow on his stomach and, as if hurled from a catapult, he was thrown
into the air and fell down the rest of the steps, his legs out before
him. But he didn't stay still when he got to the bottom. He sprang up
like a jack-in-the-box, rubbed himself on the injured part, and was
off again. He seemed to see some one strolling there in the middle of
the street; he thought he heard himself called twice or thrice by a
well-known voice, but the fear which was driving him bade him run, and
he ran with all the strength he had in his body.
[Illustration]
Poor Papa Geppetto! It was indeed he who was strolling in the middle
of the street and who, seeing Pinocchio flying out of the house like a
madman, wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain, had called to him
imploringly.
And so it was--in his hurry Pinocchio had thrown over his shoulders
one of the curtains of his room, and if I must tell you all the
truth, he was a perfectly comical sight. Soon Pinocchio had a string
of people at his heels crying out: "Catch the madman! Give it to the
madman!"
Catch him! That was easy to say, but it was no easy matter to grab
hold of the rascal. Indeed, his pursuers were soon weary, and
Pinocchio might have thought himself safe if a dog hadn't suddenly
joined in the game. It was a large jet-black poodle that had come from
no one knew where. With a couple of bounds he had caught up with
Pinocchio and had seized the curtain in his teeth and was dragging it
through the dust. Suddenly he stiffened on his four legs and Pinocchio
gave a little whirl and found himself face to face with the animal.
"Ho, ho, ho! What do I see? Oh, Medoro, don't you recognize me? Give
me your paw."
Medoro growled and shook the curtain violently, which was still
knotted about Pinocchio's waist. It was only then that he noticed the
strange covering he had on and burst out laughing.
"Oh, Medoro! What do you really want to do with this rag? I'll give it
to you willingly."
He had scarcely undone the knots when Medoro made a spring and was off
down the street they had come, the curtain in his teeth. The puppet
stood there, quite upset. Medoro had given him a lesson. The dog that
had been so friendly had turned on him and, after having pulled the
miserable old curtain off him, had made off without paying any further
attention to his old friend.
[Illustration]
"A fine way of doing!" he grumbled. "I'll catch cold running around
after that rag. Papa Geppetto won't even thank him.... I had better
tried to mend the mirror of the wardrobe or the general's window."
The thought of all the troubles he had caused the poor man in so short
a time made Pinocchio rather melancholy, and two big tears shone in
his bright little eyes. But suddenly he sighed a deep sigh, shrugged
his shoulders several times, and with his head high and his hands on
his hips, set off again on his way, whistling a popular song.
He had not gone a hundred steps when he stopped suddenly, cocked his
ear, listened a moment quietly, and then flung himself into the fields
which bordered the street. The wind brought from far off the gay notes
of a military band.
There was a huge crowd, but Pinocchio didn't give that a thought, in
spite of the fact that he was very tired with his long run. By pushing
and poking and kicks in the shins he got up into the front row.
Soldiers were passing. At the head was a company of bicycle
sharpshooters (bersaglieri), then the band, then the regiment, the Red
Cross ambulance, and soldiers, and a long line of sappers. Everybody
clapped, threw kisses and flowers, and overwhelmed the bersaglieri
with little gifts. The soldiers broke ranks and mingled with the crowd
and answered the applause with loud cheers for Italy, the King, and
the Army. Some of them marched along in the midst of their families;
weeping mothers begged their sons to be careful; the fathers bade them
be brave, reminding them of the fighting in '48, '66, '70--the
glorious years of our emancipation. The little boys kept close to
their fathers, proud to see them armed like the heroes of old legends,
and many of the girls besought their sweethearts: "Write to me, won't
you? Every day I want you to write to me. If I don't get letters from
you I shall think that you are dead and I shall weep so bitterly."
Dead! This word affected Pinocchio so that suddenly he felt his heart
beating loudly--that strange tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock which had
startled him earlier that morning.
Dead? "Oh! where are they going?" he asked a sprightly old man who was
standing near by, shouting, "Hurrah for Italy!" as if he were a boy.
"They are going to the war."
"Are they really off to war? Will they fire only powder from their
guns, or real, lead bullets, too?"
"Indeed yes, real bullets, too."
"And will they all die?"
"We hope not all of them--but they are going to fight for the honor
and greatness of their country, and he who dies for his country may
die happy."
Pinocchio did not breathe. He scratched his head solemnly, and with
his eyes and mouth made such a face that if the little old man had
seen it he would probably have boxed his ears for him. This "die
happy" was silly. Death had always frightened him whenever he had come
near to it.
"Have you been to war?" Pinocchio asked the little old man, half
ironically.
"Can't you see?" and he pointed to a row of medals pinned on his coat.
"And you would go back?"
"Certainly, if they would take me as a volunteer."
This reply brought a strange longing to Pinocchio, all the more that
the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock in the box inside of his body was
making so much noise that it rang in his ears. And then the gay notes
of the band, the joyous air of the soldiers, the cheers of the crowd,
suddenly brought a strange idea into his head. The war, with its
cannon, marches on one side, fighting on the other, horses dashing,
flags waving in the wind, songs of victory, medals on the breast,
prisoners tied together like sausages, war trophies, danced before his
eyes in a fantastic dance. The war must be just the place for him, all
the more so when he thought that it couldn't be easy to get to it if
the little old man who had been there so often couldn't go now.
"I, too, will go to the war with the soldiers," he said, in a low
voice, and without wasting a moment he pushed his way between the
troops, who, now that they were approaching the station, began to
close up the ranks. He found himself by the side of a young blond
soldier, who seemed more lonely and sad than the others.
"Will you take me with you?" Pinocchio asked, pulling at his coat.
"Where?"
"To the war."
"You? Are you crazy?"
"No, indeed."
"And you ask me to take you with me?"
"Whom, then, must I ask?"
"There is the guard down there, that one with a blue scarf over his
shoulder."
When Pinocchio got an idea in his head he had to work it out at any
cost. So he repeated his demand to the lieutenant of the guard, who,
smiling under his mustache, pointed out the captain inspecting the
troops. But the captain could decide nothing without the consent of
the battalion commander, who, for his part, would have had to ask the
approval of the colonel. He advised Pinocchio to hasten matters by
going to the adjutant, who could present his request directly to the
general.
They were now in the station. The soldiers took their places in the
huge cars, around which crowded their families, friends, and the
cheering, curious throng. At the end of the train some first-class
carriages were attached into which the orderlies carried the
hand-baggage of their higher officers. In front of one compartment
reserved for one of these was piled up a regular mountain of small
objects--little packages, boxes, rugs, furs, which a cavalry soldier
was trying to carry inside. The adjutant, a few feet away, was looking
on, trembling with impatience and vexation.
"Quick! Quick! You lazybones! Quick! Quick! Mollica. General
Win-the-War will be here in a minute and his things are not yet
inside. I'll put you under arrest for a fortnight."
"I respectfully beg the adjutant to observe that I have only two hands
for the service of my general and of my country."
"And I beg you to observe that the train is about to start off."
"If the adjutant would order some one to give me a hand ..."
"There isn't any one to be had, confound it!"
Just at that moment Pinocchio advanced resolutely toward the adjutant
to put forward his request to be enlisted.
"Mr. Adjutant ... I have come ... to ..."
The adjutant didn't let Pinocchio say another word, but caught hold of
him under the chin, squeezed him, shook him gently ... and said:
"Good! I understand ... you want to do something for the army.... Good
boy! You are the best kind of a volunteer. Fine! Help Private Mollica
to carry in all this stuff and your country will be grateful to you.
And you, Mollica, hurry up. I beg you to observe that now you have the
four hands you requested for the job. We understand each other, heh?"
Then he was off toward a group of soldiers who were chalking on the
door of one of the railway carriages in large letters: "_Through
Train--Venice--Trieste--Vienna_." A big crowd had gathered around,
stopping the traffic.
"Ho, boys, who told you to write _through train_? Next time ask
permission from your superior officer.... There will be a little stop
before we get there."
"Doesn't matter, sir, as long as we _get_ there."
"Well! You can tell when a train leaves, but not whether it will ever
arrive."
"Hurrah for Italy!"
"Good boys! I like that. But rub out what you have written. You are
first-class soldiers, you are. We understand each other, heh?" And off
he went.
With Pinocchio's aid Private Mollica performed miracles. In a few
minutes the general's things were inside, beautifully arranged in the
baggage-racks.
"You are a prodigy, boy, I tell you. You have done me a great service
and my adjutant will be so pleased that if you will promise to keep
guard here a moment I will go to tell him so that he can thank you in
the general's name."
"Go along; I'll stay," Pinocchio replied, and took up a position in
front of the door that was so soldierly you might have taken him for a
distant relative of Napoleon the Great before St. Helena.
But a minute had not gone by and Mollica had not got a hundred steps
away when Pinocchio turned as pale as death and trembled so with
fright that he almost fell off the step. He had caught sight a short
way off of General Win-the-War surrounded by a crowd of officers; and
with his marvelous vision had recognized in him Papa Geppetto's
furious tenant, whose stained glass he had shattered a few hours
before, all on account of saucy Coccorito.
He was lost; there was no possible way of escape! Win-the-War was
coming direct to his compartment and the adjutant was guiding him. The
crowd in the way divided before him and the soldiers stood stiffly at
attention. Even Mollica stood there straight as a ramrod.... Pinocchio
gave a leap into the compartment, hoping to escape by the opposite
door. But it was not possible to open it.... He heard the sound of
the approaching steps, the ring of the spurs.... Pinocchio flung
himself down on the floor of the compartment and hid himself, face
downward, under one of the seats.
The general, a colonel, and the adjutant got in. A band struck up the
national air; thousands of voices cheered the King, Italy, and the
Army. The soldiers responded with youthful courage.... You heard a
continual medley of good-bys and good wishes, and the quick, sharp
repetition of commands. A hundred voices were singing, "Farewell, my
dear one, farewell"; a hundred others sang Garibaldi's Hymn.... There
was a profound silence in the compartment. Perhaps the superior
officers felt the great responsibility of the moment and were moved by
it. Pinocchio didn't dare breathe for fear of betraying himself, but
in his breast the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock beat so loudly that
he thought it must resound all along the wooden walls of the carriage.
The notes of the national air seemed to be quicker ... the cries of
the crowd louder ... the locomotive whistled shrilly a desperate
good-by ... the train began to move....
"Gentlemen," said the general to his two companions, "let Italy's fate
now be fulfilled. To-morrow we shall cross the frontier, for the glory
of our King and for the greatness of our country. Long live Italy!"
There was so much emotion in the old soldier's voice that Pinocchio
felt as if a rope were strangling his throat. When the train was under
way, rumbling noisily along the rails, he burst out crying and
discovered that he had a heart just as if he were a real boy!