CHAPTER II
_How Pinocchio Recognized the Advantages of His Wooden Body_
"So, Colonel, you understand? This afternoon we shall be at ----(censor); we shall bivouac the troops; to-morrow morning at two wemust be on the march. We shall cross the frontier at ---- (censor) andwe shall descend toward ----. I expect rapid and united advance untilwe encounter serious opposition. Remind the soldiers of the respectdue to property in the conquered lands and to the beaten foes takenprisoners.... I have been told by the commander-in-chief that it hasbeen discovered that there is a host of spies who are working toinjure us. I command you to be very severe with spies caught in theact, no matter what their age, race, or social standing. Tell yourofficers to keep absolutely secret all orders which they receive. Ifthere is the slightest suspicion that an order relating to our advancehas reached the ear of a person suspected even in the slightestdegree, take him out, stand him with his face to the wall, and givehim eight bullets in his back. You understand--without fear ofconsequences or that you may be mistaken. It would be better than toallow--let us suppose such a case--a whole regiment to be destroyed."
Pinocchio, who had been beginning to enjoy the adventure, the swayingof the train, which, as he lay on his face, tickled his stomach, andthe conversation of the general, which greatly interested him, was soterrified at these words that his body felt like goose-flesh. For amoment he thought he would faint. His ears rang loudly and he burstinto a sweat. Heigh-ho! The general was not a man to say such thingsas a joke: "If there is the slightest suspicion that an order relatingto our advance has reached the ear of a person suspected even in theslightest degree, take him out, stand him with his face to the wall,and give him eight bullets in his back." It was clear. As clear as itcould be! Instead of a _single_ order, Pinocchio had overheard anumber ... they would certainly take him for a spy, and most certainlythe eight bullets would not be lacking.
"Eight!" he exclaimed to himself as soon as he had managed to grow alittle calmer. "Eight! One would be enough for me, and even that wouldbe too much! But I don't want to die with bullets in my back.... I amnot a spy at all. Well ... how can I persuade that orang-outang that Iam in this compartment and under this seat for no other purpose thanto go to war against my country's enemies, and because the authoritiescertainly wouldn't let me go in a more decent way? And suppose herecognizes me as the one who smashed his stained-glass window thatopened out on his terrace, instead of eight bullets, he will order mea couple of dozen.... What a pity! Poor me! Poor Papa Geppetto, whatwill he say about me? But, to sum it up, I am not a spy, and when anyone wants to pretend to be what he is not he must find out the way toshow them that he is not what they believe him to be.... The best way,I think, would be to slip off quietly. No one saw me come in here ...all I have to do is to get out without any one's seeing me. It can'tbe very difficult to do that; I'll just stay quietly until the traingets to its destination, then let these gentlemen step out, and aminute later I'll fade away."
If you could have poked your head under the seat and seen Pinocchio'sface at this moment you would have been made happy by his joyfulsmile. This little bit of reasoning had so quieted his mind that ifthey had pressed eight muskets against his back to shoot the famouseight bullets into him he would have begun to laugh as if they weredoing it only to tickle him.
He stretched himself out slowly, and, lulled by the swaying of thetrain, was soon overcome by such a tranquil slumber that he couldn'thave slept better in his own little bed.
"Poor Pinocchio!" I think I hear you say. "What is going to happen tohim now?" Yes, that's the way. It is the usual rule in this world thatwhen a person thinks he can enjoy a moment of blessed repose somemisfortune is lying in wait for him. If Pinocchio, instead of lettinghimself be overcome with sleep, had kept his eyes and ears open whilethe train was slowing down and the locomotive ahead was puffingnoisily he would have heard General Win-the-War let out a yell ofpain. Of course, he should have kept it back, but in time of war wepardon certain things, particularly when a general about to make anattack suffers from the torture of rheumatic sciatica, an old troubleof his.
"What's the matter, General?"
"My leg. My pain has come back; it's worse than an Austrian bullet."
"Perhaps you have taken a little cold."
"Perhaps.... It doesn't seem warm here, for a fact, does it, Colonel?"
"No, indeed."
"We are in the mountains and still climbing, and the temperature isgoing down."
"Gracious me! so it is. They ought ... Major, do me the favor at thenext stop to ask if it is possible to heat the compartment. If therest of you don't like the heat you can just go into the nextcompartment."
"The idea!"
At the next stop, which was not long in coming, the colonel askedpermission of his superior officer to go off for an inspection of hismen, and the major went off to see about heat for his commandingofficer. It was not a hard matter to obtain what he wanted. Thegeneral was traveling in an up-to-date carriage, one of those thathave under the seats special steam coils which can be connected withthe exhaust pipes of the locomotive's boiler, and, by a simpleadjustment, begin to send out heat immediately.
The signal for departure had already been given when the majorreturned joyfully to the compartment.
"Well?"
"The connection is made and we have heat on."
"Or rather we shall have it, because just now ..."
"Excuse me, General, all we have to do is to push that handle wherethe sign says 'cold' and 'hot' and ..."
The general, who was following the maneuver attentively, uttered an"Oh!" of relief as if the compartment were suddenly transformed intoa hothouse, and stretched his legs out comfortably, resting his feeton the opposite seat.
I can't tell you where Pinocchio's thoughts were at this moment. But Ican assure you that he was dreaming and that they must have beenpleasant dreams, because there was a beautiful smile on his face. Butsuddenly the expression changed to one strange and painful. Perhaps inhis dreams, while he was seated at a table that was spread with themost delicious dainties, he felt himself slipping down, down, andsuddenly found himself on a hot gridiron with St. Lawrence in person.It is certain that when he opened his eyes it was impossible tobreathe the air beneath the seat, and where his back touched it, itwas hot enough to bake a loaf of bread. He started to jump out, butcaught sight, right in front of his nose, of the little wheels in theadjutant's spurs. The sight of these brought him back to his realsituation.
"But what is the matter?" he said to himself. "Is the axle of thewheel on fire? And can I keep from burning? But if they notice it,too? If no one moves that means that there is no danger ... but,Heavens! it burns! Ouch! I am covered with sweat, but I have got tostand it.... If I get out there will be the eight bullets in my back.Poor me! How much better it would be if I were still nothing but awooden puppet!"
Well, I can't help him. It's too much for me. It would indeed havebeen convenient at that moment to be made of wood, for he was in asituation such as no one would wish for any creature of flesh andblood--for me or you, for instance. He had either to stand beingsteamed on the boiling pipe of the heating apparatus or to givehimself up into the hands of the general, who wouldn't delay long thethreatened shooting.
Pinocchio was a hero, also a regular martyr, because he stood thetorture more than half an hour, turning himself from side to side,moving restlessly, and drawing up his body in one way and anotherlike the aforesaid St. Lawrence of blessed memory, the only differencebeing that the saint expected to be well cooked on one side and thento turn over and be cooked on the other; while Pinocchio, when hediscovered that a certain part of him was about to be cooked inearnest, let out a loud scream and followed it by calls for "Help!help!"
General Win-the-War and the adjutant jumped to their feet likejacks-in-the-box, threw themselves down on the ground, and, withoutpaying any attention to the blow on the heads they gave each other,ran the
ir arms under the seat, and with outstretched hands seized holdof Pinocchio and dragged him out. They nearly tore him in two like atender chicken, one pulling him on one side and one on the other.
"You wretch!"
"You scoundrel!"
"Who are you?"
"Speak, you miserable creature!"
"General, he is a spy."
"We must question him in German ... he must be an Austrian."
"_Wer sind Sie?_"
No answer.
"What language do you speak, you little beast?"
Poor Pinocchio couldn't even draw a long breath. The general clutchedhim by the collar with such a military firmness that he turned thecolor of a ripe cherry. A little more and he would have been strangledto death.
The adjutant saved him by respectfully bidding the general rememberthat in questioning a prisoner it is necessary to allow him to breatheif you wish an answer.
"Mr. General ... forgive me. I am not a spy. It would be a real crimeif you had me shot ... just as soon as we arrive at ... Give me a gunand I will go to war with the troops."
"Oh, you wretch! So you listened to all we said?"
"How could I help it? I was under here when the train started. It wasI who helped Private Mollica to put all your stuff inside."
"Even this leather case?"
"Certainly I, I myself."
"Even the despatch-case with the plans! Major, give me your revolverso that I can shoot him like a dog."
"But why do you want to shoot me, Mr. General? I haven't doneanything.... I wanted to go to the war to hear the cannon, but I neverspied on any one, not even when I went to school.... Can you reallytake me for a Boche? No, for gracious' sake, no.... Look at myfeatures.... No, no, no, for Heaven's sake! Keep your weapon quiet....Don't you know who I am?... I am Pinocchio, Papa Geppetto's Pinocchio... who only this morning broke your stained-glass window...."
At that point the general uttered such a roar that Pinocchio felt hisbreath leave him. But he saw the officer hand back the pistol to themajor and take up from the seat a big leather bag; then he didn't seethe bag again, but he felt it several times and with great forceexactly on the part of his body which had suffered the most from theheat of the steam coil.... But Pinocchio was saved by his sincerity.General Win-the-War could certainly not have bothered to beat a realspy, but I can tell you that at that moment Pinocchio would havepreferred to be still a wooden puppet.