“Bring that puppet here:  you will find him hanging on a nail.  It seems to me that he is made of very dry wood and I am sure that if he were thrown on the fire he would make a beautiful blaze for the roast.”

At first Harlequin and Punch hesitated; but, appalled by a severe glance from their master, they obeyed.  In a short time they returned to the kitchen carrying poor Pinocchio, who was wriggling like an eel taken out of water and screaming desperately:  “Papa! papa! save me!  I will not die, I will not die!”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

FIRE-EATER SNEEZES AND PARDONS PINOCCHIO

The showman, Fire-Eater—­for that was his name—­looked like a wicked man, especially with his black beard that covered his chest and legs like an apron.  On the whole, however, he had not a bad heart.  In proof of this, when he saw poor Pinocchio brought before him, struggling and screaming “I will not die, I will not die!” he was quite moved and felt very sorry for him.  He tried to hold out, but after a little he could stand it no longer and he sneezed violently.  When he heard the sneeze, Harlequin, who up to that moment had been in the deepest affliction and bowed down like a weeping willow, became quite cheerful and, leaning towards Pinocchio, he whispered to him softly: 

“Good news, brother.  The showman has sneezed and that is a sign that he pities you, and consequently you are saved.”

Most men, when they feel compassion for somebody, either weep or at least pretend to dry their eyes.  Fire-Eater, on the contrary, whenever he was really overcome, had the habit of sneezing.

After he had sneezed, the showman, still acting the ruffian, shouted to Pinocchio: 

“Have done crying!  Your lamentations have given me a pain in my stomach.  I feel a spasm that almost—­Etchoo! etchoo!” and he sneezed again twice.

“Bless you!” said Pinocchio.

“Thank you!  And your papa and your mamma, are they still alive?” asked Fire-Eater.

“Papa, yes; my mamma I have never known.”

“Who can say what a sorrow it would be for your poor old father if I were to have you thrown amongst those burning coals!  Poor old man!  I pity him!  Etchoo! etchoo! etchoo!” and he sneezed again three times.

“Bless you” said Pinocchio.

“Thank you!  All the same, some compassion is due to me, for as you see I have no more wood with which to finish roasting my mutton, and, to tell you the truth, under the circumstances you would have been of great use to me!  However, I have had pity on you, so I must have patience.  Instead of you I will burn under the spit one of the puppets belonging to my company.  Ho there, gendarmes!”

At this call two wooden gendarmes immediately appeared.  They were very long and very thin, and had on cocked hats, and held unsheathed swords in their hands.