“You are right, Cricket! Drive me away also... throw the handle of a hammer at me; but have pity on my poor papa...”
“I will have pity on both father and son, but I wished to remind you of the ill treatment I received from you, to teach you that in this world, when it is possible, we should show courtesy to everybody, if we wish it to be extended to us in our hour of need.”
“You are right, Cricket, you are right, and I will bear in mind the lesson you have given me. But tell me how you managed to buy this beautiful hut.”
“This hut was given to me yesterday by a goat whose wool was of a beautiful blue colour.”
“And where has the goat gone?” asked Pinocchio with lively curiosity.
“I do not know.”
“And when will it come back?...”
“It will never come back. It went away yesterday in great grief and, bleating, it seemed to say: ‘Poor Pinocchio... I shall never see him more... by this time the Dog-fish must have devoured him!...’”
“Did it really say that?... Then it was she!... it was she!... it was my dear little Fairy...” exclaimed Pinocchio, crying and sobbing.
When he had cried for some time he dried his eyes, and prepared a comfortable bed of straw for Geppetto to lie down upon. Then he asked the Cricket: “Tell me, little Cricket, where can I find a tumbler of milk for my poor papa?”
“Three fields off from here there lives a gardener called Giangio who keeps cows. Go to him and you will get the milk you are in want of.”
Pinocchio ran all the way to Giangio’s house; and the gardener asked him:
“How much milk do you want?”
“I want a tumblerful.”
“A tumbler of milk costs a halfpenny. Begin by giving me the halfpenny.”
“I have not even a farthing,” replied Pinocchio, grieved and mortified.
“That is bad, puppet,” answered the gardener. “If you have not even a farthing, I have not even a drop of milk.”
“I must have patience!” said Pinocchio, and he turned to go.
“Wait a little,” said Giangio. “We can come to an arrangement together. Will you undertake to turn the pumping machine?”
“What is the pumping machine?”
“It is a wooden pole which serves to draw up the water from the cistern to water the vegetables.”
“You can try me...”
“Well, then, if you will draw a hundred buckets of water, I will give you in compensation a tumbler of milk.”
“It is a bargain.”
Giango then led Pinocchio to the kitchen garden and taught him how to turn the pumping machine. Pinocchio immediately began to work; but before he had drawn up the hundred buckets of water the perspiration was pouring from his head to his feet. Never before had he undergone such fatigue.
“Up till now,” said the gardener, “the labour of turning the pumping machine was performed by my little donkey; but the poor animal is dying.”
“Will you take me to see him?” said Pinocchio.
“Willingly.”
When Pinocchio went into the stable he saw a beautiful little donkey stretched on the straw, worn out from hunger and overwork. After looking at him earnestly he said to himself, much troubled: “I am sure I know this little donkey! His face is not new to me.”
And bending over him he asked him in asinine language: “Who are you?”
At this question the little donkey opened his dying eyes, and answered in broken words in the same language: “I am... Can ... dle ... wick...”
And having again closed his eyes he expired.
“Oh, poor Candlewick!” said Pinocchio in a low voice; and taking a handful of straw he dried a tear that was rolling down his face.
“Do you grieve for a donkey that cost you nothing?” said the gardener. “What must it be to me who bought him for ready money?”
“I must tell you ... he was my friend!”
“Your friend?”
“One of my schoolfellows!...”
“How?” shouted Giangio, laughing loudly. “How? had you donkeys for schoolfellows?... I can imagine what wonderful studies you must have made!...”
The puppet, who felt much mortified at these words, did not answer; but taking his tumbler of milk, still quite warm, he returned to the hut.
And from that day for more than five months he continued to get up at daybreak every morning to go and turn the pumping machine, to earn the tumbler of milk that was of such benefit to his father in his bad state of health. Nor was he satisfied with this; for during the time that he had over he learnt to make hampers and baskets of rushes, and with the money he obtained by selling them he was able with great economy to provide for all the daily expenses. Amongst other things he constructed an elegant little wheel-chair, in which he could take his father out on fine days to breathe a mouthful of fresh air.
By his industry, ingenuity, and his anxiety to work and to overcome difficulties, he not only succeeded in maintaining his father, who continued infirm, in comfort, but he also contrived to put aside forty pence to buy himself a new coat.
One morning he said to his father: “I am going to the neighbouring market to buy myself a jacket, a cap, and a pair of shoes. When I return,” he added, laughing, “I shall be so well dressed that you will take me for a fine gentleman.”
And leaving the house he began to run merrily and happily along. All at once he heard himself called by name, and turning round he saw a big Snail crawling out from the hedge.