“A fine bath to you, gentleman assassins.”

And he felt convinced that they were drowned, when, turning to look, he perceived that, on the contrary, they were both running after him, still enveloped in their sacks, with the water dripping from them as if they had been two hollow baskets.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV

THE ASSASSINS HANG PINOCCHIO TO THE BIG OAK

At this sight the puppet’s courage failed him and he was on the point of throwing himself on the ground and giving himself over for lost.  Turning, however, his eyes in every direction, he saw, at some distance, a small house as white as snow.

“If only I had breath to reach that house,” he said to himself, “perhaps I should be saved.”

And, without delaying an instant, he recommenced running for his life through the wood, and the assassins after him.

At last, after a desperate race of nearly two hours, he arrived quite breathless at the door of the house, and knocked.

No one answered.

He knocked again with great violence, for he heard the sound of steps approaching him and the heavy panting of his persecutors.  The same silence.

Seeing that knocking was useless, he began in desperation to kick and pommel the door with all his might.  The window then opened and a beautiful Child appeared at it.  She had blue hair and a face as white as a waxen image; her eyes were closed and her hands were crossed on her breast.  Without moving her lips in the least, she said, in a voice that seemed to come from the other world: 

“In this house there is no one.  They are all dead.”

“Then at least open the door for me yourself,” shouted Pinocchio, crying and imploring.

“I am dead also.”

“Dead?  Then what are you doing there at the window?”

“I am waiting for the bier to come to carry me away.”

Having said this she immediately disappeared and the window was closed again without the slightest noise.

“Oh! beautiful Child with blue hair,” cried Pinocchio, “open the door, for pity’s sake!  Have compassion on a poor boy pursued by assas—­”

But he could not finish the word, for he felt himself seized by the collar and the same two horrible voices said to him threateningly: 

“You shall not escape from us again!”

The puppet, seeing death staring him in the face, was taken with such a violent fit of trembling that the joints of his wooden legs began to creak, and the sovereigns hidden under his tongue to clink.

“Now, then,” demanded the assassins, “will you open your mouth—­yes or no?  Ah! no answer?  Leave it to us:  this time we will force you to open it!”

And, drawing out two long, horrid knives as sharp as razors, clash!—­they attempted to stab him twice.

But the puppet, luckily for him, was made of very hard wood; the knives therefore broke into a thousand pieces and the assassins were left with the handles in their hands, staring at each other.