# The Adventures of Pinocchio (1904)/Chapter 29

Just as the fisherman was on the point of putting Pinocchio into the frying pan a big Dog entered the grotto, having been attracted by the savory odor of the fried fish. “Go away!” cried the fisherman, waving in his hand the marionette all covered with flour. But the poor Dog had a hunger that demanded to be appeased. So, whining and wagging his tail, he appeared to say, “Give me a mouthful of fish and I will leave.”
​“Go away!” repeated the fisherman, raising his foot to kick him. Then the Dog, who was truly hungry, showed his terrible teeth.
At that instant there was heard in the grotto a small voice crying, “Save me, Aladdin! If you do not, I shall be fried.”
The Dog recognized the voice of Pinocchio and was surprised to find that it came from the white bundle that the fisherman held in his hand. Then what did he do? He jumped up high, caught that white bundle and, holding it lightly between his teeth, ran out of the grotto like a shot.
The fisherman was greatly enraged and tried to catch him, but it was wasted time and he had to content himself with the fish that were left.
In the meantime Aladdin, finding the road that led back to the town, stopped and carefully placed Pinocchio on the ground.
“How can I thank you?” said the marionette.
“It is not necessary,” said the Dog. “You have saved me and now I save you. In this world all ought to help one another.”
“But how did you find the grotto?”
“After you left me I was lying on the shore when the wind carried to me the odor of fried fish. That odor gave me an appetite and I went to the place from which it came. If I had been a minute later—”
​“Don’t speak about it!” cried Pinocchio, trembling with fear. “Don’t speak about it! If you had arrived a minute later, I should have been fried, eaten, and digested. Brrr! It makes me shake only to think of it!”
Aladdin, laughing, held out his paw, which Pinocchio took. After shaking hands like two good friends, they separated. The Dog went home and Pinocchio went to a little town not far away. There he asked an old man who was sitting in the doorway basking in the sun, “Tell me, do you know anything about a little boy who was wounded and who is called Eugene?”
“The boy has been carried into this town by some fishermen and he is now—”
“Not dead?” interrupted Pinocchio in great grief.
“No; he is alive and has gone home.”
“Truly? truly?” cried the marionette, jumping up and down with great joy. “Then the wound was not serious?”
“No; but it might have been, for he was struck by a large book.”
“And who threw it?”
“One of his companions; a certain Pinocchio.”
“Who is this Pinocchio?”
“They say that he is a bad boy, a vagabond and a true scoundrel.”
​“That is not true.”
“Do you know him then?”
“By sight,” replied the marionette.
“What do you think of him?”
“He appears to me to be a good boy, a boy that wants to go to school, to study, and to obey his parents.”
When the marionette had told that story he touched his nose and found that it had grown much larger. Frightened by this, he cried: “Do not believe, good man, all that I have said! I know this Pinocchio very well and I assure you that he is a bad boy, a vagabond and a scoundrel; and instead of going to school he goes with bad companions.” He had hardly said these words when his nose returned to its natural size.
“And why are you covered with white?” said the old man.
“I will tell you. Without knowing it I climbed down a wall covered with chalk,” replied the marionette, who was ashamed to tell the real reason.
“Well, my boy, you cannot go around like that. I have only a little sack that will fit you, but I will give you that willingly.”
Without being urged further Pinocchio took the little sack and, cutting a hole in the bottom and two holes on the side with a pair of scissors, put ​it over his head like a shirt. Clothed thus lightly he took the road to his home and said to himself as he walked along: “How shall I present myself to my good Fairy? What will she say when she sees me? Will she pardon me the second time? Oh, no; she will not pardon me, I am sure, because I have been a scamp and have not kept my promise.”
When he arrived at the town it was quite dark; and because it rained very hard, he went directly to the house of the Fairy and decided to knock at the door. But when he reached the house his courage failed, so instead of knocking he walked beyond. He returned a second time to the door, but did not knock; then he approached it another time, but did nothing. The fourth time he trembled as he took hold of the knocker and let it fall without much noise.
He waited and waited. In about half an hour a window opened on the top floor (for there were four stories to the house) and Pinocchio saw a large Snail look out. The Snail called, “Who is it at this hour?”
“Is the Fairy at home?” asked the marionette.
“The Fairy is sleeping and does not wish to be awakened; but who are you?”
“It is I.”
​“Who is I?”
“Pinocchio.”
“Who is Pinocchio?”
“The marionette who lives here with the Fairy.”
“Ah, I understand,” said the Snail. “Wait there and I will come down immediately.”
“Hurry, please, for I am dying of cold.”
​“My boy, I am a snail; and snails never hurry.”
In the meantime an hour passed by, then two; and the door was not opened. Pinocchio, trembling with the cold, knocked again. At the second knock the window on the third story opened and the Snail looked out.
“Beautiful Snail,” cried Pinocchio from the street, “I have waited two hours; and two hours in this weather seem like two years. Please hurry, won’t you?”
“My boy,” replied the Snail, “I am a snail; and snails never hurry.”
Some time afterward it struck midnight; then one; then two; but the door remained always closed. Then Pinocchio, losing patience, took hold of the knocker and was about to strike with all his might when the knocker became an eel and, slipping through his hands, dropped into a stream of water that ran in the street.
“Ho! ho!” cried Pinocchio, more enraged than ever. “If the knocker disappears I will use my foot.” He then kicked the door so hard that his foot went through the wood and stuck there. He tried to pull it out but he could not. Just imagine how he felt! He was obliged to wait with one foot on the ground and the other in the door until morning came.
​In the morning the door was opened. The good Snail had taken nine hours in descending the stairs, and, as might have been expected, was covered with perspiration.
“What are you doing with your foot in the door?” he asked, laughing.
“I have been unfortunate. Just look, kind Snail, and help me.”
“My boy, you need a carpenter, and I have never learned that trade.”
“Ask the Fairy to help me.”
“The Fairy is asleep and does not wish to be awakened.”
“But what can I do all day with my foot fastened to the door?”
“You can amuse yourself by counting the ants that pass by.”
“Bring me something to eat, won’t you? I am very hungry.”
“Immediately,” said the Snail.
After three hours Pinocchio saw him coming with a silver vase on his head. The vase contained some bread, a piece of chicken, and four ripe apricots.
“Here is your breakfast sent to you by the Fairy.”
At the sight of such food Pinocchio felt consoled. But he was deceived; for when he took the bread ​he found that it was chalk, that the chicken was made of cardboard, and that the four apricots were of glass.
He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to throw the silver vase into the house; but he was so weak that he fell down and fainted. When he came to he found himself on a sofa and the Fairy was near him.
“I will pardon you this time; but woe to you if you ever do it again!” said the Fairy.
Pinocchio promised and swore that he would be good. He kept his promise the rest of the year. In fact, at the examinations he took the first honors, and the Fairy was so happy that she said to him, “To-morrow you shall have your wish.”
“And that is?”
“To-morrow you shall stop being a marionette and become a real boy.”
One who never saw Pinocchio cannot imagine how happy he was at this announcement. All his friends and schoolmates were invited to a great collation. The Fairy had prepared two hundred cups and saucers and four hundred little sandwiches buttered inside and out. That day promised to be a great event but—
Unfortunately in the life of a marionette there is always a but that spoils everything.
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