“Good-by, Alidoro, good luck and remember me to the family!”

“Good-by, little Pinocchio,” answered the Dog.  “A thousand thanks for having saved me from death.  You did me a good turn, and, in this world, what is given is always returned.  If the chance comes, I shall be there.”

Pinocchio went on swimming close to shore.  At last he thought he had reached a safe place.  Glancing up and down the beach, he saw the opening of a cave out of which rose a spiral of smoke.

“In that cave,” he said to himself, “there must be a fire.  So much the better.  I’ll dry my clothes and warm myself, and then—­well—­”

His mind made up, Pinocchio swam to the rocks, but as he started to climb, he felt something under him lifting him up higher and higher.  He tried to escape, but he was too late.  To his great surprise, he found himself in a huge net, amid a crowd of fish of all kinds and sizes, who were fighting and struggling desperately to free themselves.

At the same time, he saw a Fisherman come out of the cave, a Fisherman so ugly that Pinocchio thought he was a sea monster.  In place of hair, his head was covered by a thick bush of green grass.  Green was the skin of his body, green were his eyes, green was the long, long beard that reached down to his feet.  He looked like a giant lizard with legs and arms.

When the Fisherman pulled the net out of the sea, he cried out joyfully: 

“Blessed Providence!  Once more I’ll have a fine meal of fish!”

“Thank Heaven, I’m not a fish!” said Pinocchio to himself, trying with these words to find a little courage.

The Fisherman took the net and the fish to the cave, a dark, gloomy, smoky place.  In the middle of it, a pan full of oil sizzled over a smoky fire, sending out a repelling odor of tallow that took away one’s breath.

“Now, let’s see what kind of fish we have caught today,” said the Green Fisherman.  He put a hand as big as a spade into the net and pulled out a handful of mullets.

“Fine mullets, these!” he said, after looking at them and smelling them with pleasure.  After that, he threw them into a large, empty tub.

Many times he repeated this performance.  As he pulled each fish out of the net, his mouth watered with the thought of the good dinner coming, and he said: 

“Fine fish, these bass!”

“Very tasty, these whitefish!”

“Delicious flounders, these!”

“What splendid crabs!”

“And these dear little anchovies, with their heads still on!”

As you can well imagine, the bass, the flounders, the whitefish, and even the little anchovies all went together into the tub to keep the mullets company.  The last to come out of the net was Pinocchio.

As soon as the Fisherman pulled him out, his green eyes opened wide with surprise, and he cried out in fear: 

“What kind of fish is this?  I don’t remember ever eating anything like it.”