The Heart of Pinocchio: New Adventures of the Celebrated Little Puppet

by Collodi Nipote

  CHAPTER X

  _Many Deeds and Few Words_

  My dear little friends, I won't stop to show you Pinocchio in the sadsurroundings of a hospital. I will tell you only that he stayed therefor more than two months, and that he left it with his two woodenlegs, new and well oiled, and that Fatina, by a curious coincidence,was his careful and affectionate nurse, and that Ciampanella, playingthe part of a good friend, did not fail to make him frequent visits,bringing with him certain samples of camp cookery which enrapturedPinocchio. His surgeon was a most polite Piedmontese, always bowingand salaaming, who announced to him with all formality the misfortunewhich had again overtaken him and asked his permission two days inadvance to amputate his frozen leg.

  "All right," exclaimed Pinocchio, "go ahead. I've got accustomed tosuch trifles now. But you must do me a favor."

  "Let me hear it."

  "When you give me my new wooden leg I want it to be longer than usualand that naturally you change the other one, too."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'd feel as if I were on stilts and it would amuse me todeath to take steps longer than any one else."

  He was satisfied and left the hospital with such long legs that he wasalmost as tall as Ciampanella, who took Pinocchio's arm in his as ifhe were his sweetheart.

  "Heh, youngster, but you have grown! And then they say that wenon-combatants never do anything! I haven't done anything, but if Iwere the one I have in mind I would bestow on you the medal forbravery because your legs have won it. I tell you, I, who know what Iam talking about."

  "Even if they don't give me anything, I am satisfied all the same. AllI ask is for them to leave me here and not send me home."

  "Come with me and I'll appoint you first adjutant of the mess kitchen,and when I have taught you how and put the ladle in your hand _wewill live on the fat of the land_ and will make meat-balls with ourleavings for the general, and when we don't know what else to do we'llwrite the _Manual of War Cookery_, which I won't risk now because Ihaven't a writing hand, as the saying is."

  "Listen, Ciampanella, I am as grateful as if you had offered to lendme a hundred lire without interest, but just now I can't accept."

  "Why?"

  "Because it requires a special constitution to be a cook. I'd be allright as far as eating the best morsels was concerned, but it would bedangerous for me to stay near the stove. I am half wooden and run therisk of catching on fire. I should have to decide to take outinsurance against fire. Moreover, let's consider. To-day I have otherviews. Fatina here has given me a letter for my friend Bersaglierino,who is at headquarters as the war correspondent of an importantnewspaper. We'll see what he advises me to do."

  They parted good friends after a solemn feast which almost madeCiampanella roll under the table, like an ancient Roman at one of thebanquets of Lucullus or Nero.

 

  Bersaglierino was truly delighted to see his dear little friend againand kept him with him several days for company. From him he learned anumber of things he didn't know. One day he asked him:

  "Tell me, Pinocchio, do you know the reason for this war in which you,too, have played your small part and to which you have paid tribute ofpart of yourself?"

  "Do you imagine I don't know? It is _to make Italy bigger_."

  "And that seems a just reason to you?"

  "That's what every one says."

  "All those who don't know what they are talking about. If every nationhad the right to let loose a war for the sole purpose of enlarging herboundaries we'd have to take off our hats to the Germans who provokedthe present curse for their own purposes. We have other and noblerideals. We have brothers to liberate, peoples to free from a foreignyoke. Certain lands which are ours because they were enriched by thelabors of our fathers, because our Italian tongue is spoken in them,were until to-day exploited by the enemy, who sought in every way toembitter the existence of our brothers, paying with contempt andscorn, with persecution and oppression, their loyalty and love for themother-country. Italian unity, begun in the revolutionary movement of1811, was not completed in 1870 with the taking of Rome. The jealousyof other nations halted us on our way to emancipation. We were tooweak then to make our will felt; we were exhausted with fifty years ofcontinuous fighting and we had need of a little rest in order torestore our energy. To-day we are strong enough to stand up for ourrights. Neither underhand dealings of wicked men nor betrayal bypartizans will prevent the victory of our arms. Italy will beretempered in the war. Our destiny will be fulfilled.

  "I see as in a dream our borders which have been overrun won back tous, Trent bleeding with Italian blood, Goriza twice redeemed, Triestein the shadow of the tricolor. Istria awaits us impatiently; Parenzois preparing the way for us to Pola, which we shall take intact, withthe defenses the Austrians erected there against our own brothers.Zara, Sebenico, and the coast of Dalmatia, which for so many centuriesdisplayed the glorious insignia of the Lion of St. Mark, are longingimpatiently for the moment which shall reunite them to themother-country, that for them and with them will grow ever greater.War is a curse; this one which is being fought to-day all over thecivilized world is perhaps the most terrible which humanity has everknown; yet it will not fail to bring great blessings. It has awakenedthe consciences of peoples and revealed the virtues and the defects ofparticular races. In the contest of the ancient Latin civilizationwith the Teuton power the might of right has been re-established, theright that has been trampled upon by force...."

  And so on and so on, for when Bersaglierino began to argue there wasno way of stopping him, and Pinocchio stood there listening with hismouth open like a peasant absorbed by the wonderful discourse of afakir at a fair. And who knows how long he would have stood there, butBersaglierino had so much to do and was obliged to leave him alone,letting him stay in the rear where he could follow the progress of thewar without exposing himself too much, but where he could still bedoing important service for his country. He put him in the care of acaptain of the commissary department, a good friend of his who had theunlucky idea of making him a baker in a camp bakery. He stayed thereonly two days, astounded at the enormous quantity of bread which waskneaded and baked all the time. All he did was to give a hand infilling the baskets which were loaded on automobiles that carried thebread to the front. The third day he made a figure of dough thatlooked like the twin brother of the captain, put it in the oven and,when it was baked, set it astraddle on the cup of coffee poured outfor that officer, then hid himself behind a curtain to take part inthe welcome which would certainly be given to his most valuable workof art. But the commissary officer's orderly found him and wanted todust his trousers and pull his ears. He never succeeded in doing this.Pinocchio helped him out of the house with kicks and then hurled himinto the flour-barrel. If they had not pulled him out in time he wouldhave suffocated.

  The boy fled on the first automobile which left for the front, and forseveral days whirled back and forth between the front and rear lines,going forward on the supply automobiles and returning on the Red Crossambulances which brought the wounded to the first-aid posts. Thedrivers were glad to take him on their machines because he kept themall jolly with his pranks, and he, better than any one, was able toget an idea of the gigantic and wonderful work which was being doneside by side with the army which was fighting for the defense of itscountry. What profound respect for discipline, what order, what spiritof self-sacrifice in those brave soldiers (almost all fathers offamilies), continually exposed to bad weather, to the hardestfatigues, to the most complete privations! Rain, snow, ice, tornadoesof wind and of shot and shell, nothing succeeded in interrupting for asingle minute the interminably long chain of wagons and lorries thatcarried food to the trenches, ammunition to the artillery, and cannonto the fortified positions. The drivers, dead with sleep, soaked withrain, shivering with cold, remained calmly at their wheels and at theheads of their horses. When the great caravan stopped for a moment forany reason these men, revived with new energy and by the force oftheir wi
ll, started the huge mechanism on its way again.

  For a little way Pinocchio thought he would become anautomobile-driver, but when they told him that he would have to have alicense and that, in order to get one, he would have to take a regularexamination, he didn't proceed farther. Examiners he looked upon aseven greater enemies than Franz Joe's hunters.

 

  After pondering the subject a long time he decided to become amilitary postman. At first he took pleasure in it all. When hearrived it seemed as if heaven had come down to earth. He was receivedlike a king, with joyous cries and shouts, and he walked between tworows of soldiers like a general. When he distributed the letters itwas as if he conferred a favor; when he handed out a money-order hehad an air of condescension as if he were doling the soldi from hispurse. When he had finished distributing the mail he would let thempay him to read their letters. I can tell you it was not an easymatter. Often he had hieroglyphics to decipher which would have giventrouble to a professor of paleontology. But Pinocchio had such a quickmind that when he found he couldn't puzzle it out he invented a letterand did it so well that he earned a soldo by it and the deep gratitudeof his clients. What disgusted him with the business was the postalservice, which suddenly became confoundedly bad, perhaps on account ofa change in the Ministry. Pinocchio saw his popularity vanish in aninstant, and the soldiers made him bear the brunt of theirdissatisfaction. One day he heard so many complaints that he grewfurious and flung away the bag he wore about his neck and cried out tothose who were disputing around him:

  "You are a bunch of imbeciles. Why do you come to me with yourletters? Do you know what you ought to do? Go and get them, because Iwon't take another step for the sake of your pretty faces."

  His ears were boxed again and again and he replied with as many kicks,but he didn't play postman any more. He was wondering to what newservice he could dedicate himself when a corporal baker gave him thisnote:

  DEAR PINOCCHIO,--I am having the one who will hand you this write these lines so that he can tell you for me that I have a great longing to see you, because I am not well and I don't know what to do, and I sign myself your most affectionate

  CIAMPANELLA,

  _Chief Mess-cook in the service of the Commander-in-chief_.

  Pinocchio was so affected by this letter that he set off at once insearch of his friend. He found him in full performance of his noblefunctions, white, red, and flourishing as if he had come back the daybefore from taking the cure at Montecatini.

  "Well?" he said in astonishment, after they had embraced.

  "Well, youngster, I am here and I am not here in this beastly world."

  "But, truly ..."

  "You wouldn't say that I am on the downward path, to make use of thewords of the chaplain, but Ciampanella is no longer himself. They havegiven me only a few months more to live. I don't mind for myself, youknow. I think that I shall be as well off there as I have beenhere.... But I am thinking of humanity."

  "Nothing and a little less than nothing."

  "No joking now, youngster. Without the _Manual of War Cookery_ writtenby Ciampanella humanity can never be happy, because with it men willeat and laugh, and when you laugh you spend willingly, and when youspend willingly you eat well.... So that ..."

  "Why don't you write it?"

  "First of all, because I lack the knowledge of handwriting, whichyou've got to do; that is why I sent for you, and then ... because Iam afraid that I won't have time enough to dictate it all, because thesurgeon-major who examined me said that I had a disease of the liverfrom eating too much, and that it would be the liver that would bringme to my grave if I didn't stop immediately living on the fat of theland and drink quantities of water. Listen, youngster, I have alwayshad a great antipathy for liver, so much so that I never even put itin patties called Strasburg and which in my _Manual_ I will rechristen'Austro-German Trenches with Reinforcements of War Bread and Ambushedin Jelly.' But that's not the point. As I tell you, I have always hada great antipathy to liver, but also for water, so much so, I'll tellyou in confidence, that sometimes I don't even use it to wash my facein.

  "So listen. Since they have brought me to this crossroads--eitherdrink water and live or eat good things and let my liver take me tothe next world--I have decided on the latter. Before dying I wanted tocall you to my presence to tell you that as I have no one in the worldI have been thinking of leaving you everything I possess: ten ladles,a carver, the change-purse, and the recipes for the _Manual_, forwhich, when you publish it, they will give you at least the cross of aknight, that when you put it on will make, you feel 'way and ahead ofthose who look at you."

 

  In short, Ciampanella said so much and did so much that he persuadedPinocchio to stay with him. And certainly the boy could not find abetter way of making himself useful to his country. The mess-cook wasat the orders of a division. Each day he satisfied the hunger of fourgenerals, six colonels, and a crowd of majors and captains of theGeneral Staff. All these were men who had need of good eating thatwouldn't cause indigestion. Pinocchio served ... as director of themess. When he saw some saucepan boiling over, a pot too full, hequickly reduced them by tasting their contents generously. Sauces andragouts were his passion. Every now and then you might have seen himdipping half a loaf of bread into the casseroles. One day a captainwho was inspecting surprised him at this, and naturally he lit intoCiampanella about it, who threatened to quit the kitchen if theydidn't leave him in peace.

  "Do you understand, Mr. Captain? Do you imagine that standing over afire is a great pleasure? I am beginning to believe that it is betterto stay in the trenches and die _with a ball in the head_ than in therear when you come and ruin my comfort with your inspections. But doyou know what I'll do? I'll hide the ladles in a place I know of andI'll take up a musket and you'll see what you'll see."

  The captain had to slink off, speeded by the laughs of Pinocchio,whose nose was smeared and greasy and his mouth dripping with tomatosauce. Ciampanella, who was so lacking in respect to his superiors,obeyed the boy as if he were a head taller than he. Pinocchio hadpersuaded him to drink quarts of water and to take digestive tabletsafter his meals, and every morning a spoonful of salts in a glass ofwater as the surgeon-major had ordered. And he followed out thisprescription so carefully that he had noticed a wonderful improvement,and he kept a big bottle full of medicine among his cans of pepper andspices. This fact had several times started an idea in Pinocchio'swhimsical pate, and several times he had been on the point ofexchanging this medicine for the kitchen salt, but the thought of theserious consequences which might result had kept him from doing it.Moreover, Pinocchio was called more and more often to serve themess-table and spent less time in the kitchen. The famous captain ofthe inspection had thought in this way to avenge himself upon thatmost insolent of semi-puppets, but, to tell you the truth, he didn'tfind it bad. Serving at table so many grand generals seemed to himalmost an honor, and he was proud of it. When he handed the dishes tothe highest officers he would make low bows; the captains he treatedalmost with disdain. He always tried to serve his "particular" captainthe last, and when there was left in the dish scarcely enough toscrape out another portion he would whisper in his ear:

  "Heh, Captain, blessed are those that are last!"

  The captain fumed, but waited for the moment when he could give him areprimand. He thought the time had come one morning when he found afly in the stew.

  "Come here, you little beast."

  "Yes, sir; at your orders, sir."

  "Look!" and he stuck the plate of stew two inches from his nose.

  "There is no doubt, Captain, that it is a fly, a very vulgar fly," andsticking two fingers delicately into the sauce he pulled the insectout ... "a fly indeed! But you may consider yourself lucky because inthe rations of your men there will be at least twenty of them. Andthose who fight don't think much of it. You do the same, Captain ...in war-time don't bother about such trifles."

  A tank com
mander who was next to him laughed heartily. The captain, asgreen as a newly formed tomato, kept quiet and ate the stew.

  * * * * *

  That day there was a grand dinner for some French and British officerswho had come on a mission to the front. Ciampanella had cooked one ofhis wonderful recipes. Pinocchio, who had stuck his nose and tongueinto all the pots and pans, swore that even the King's cook was notequal to producing such a dinner. And he, too, wished to do himselfhonor. He set the table in a grassy spot surrounded by high trees andthick hedges. It wasn't possible to find a more picturesque spot,shady and safe from curious eyes, from reporters, and--spies. It was alittle distance from the kitchen, but distances didn't botherPinocchio, whose legs, longer than ordinary ones, could take stepslike a giant's. He decorated the table with wild flowers and wovebetween the branches of the trees the flags of Italy, France, England,and America, tied together with the colors of Belgium, dressed himselfafresh, and prepared to display all his good manners.

  All the high officers seated at the table made a wonderful sight. Theuniforms, starred with crosses and ribbons, shining with gold andsilver, were all the more sparkling against the green background ofthe trees and the meadow.

  Pinocchio had served the finest _consomme_ with the air of a headwaiter in an expensive restaurant. When he returned to serve amagnificent capon in jelly shaped like a cannon surrounded by heartsof green lettuce which appeared on the menu under the name "William'sWishes, with Evasions of German Financiers," he was struck by astrange sight. All the diners had fled from the table and were goinghurriedly behind the hedge, overcome with nausea. A terrible ideaflashed through Pinocchio's mind. He turned around and, his capon inhis hand, rushed to the kitchen.

  "Ciampanella! Ciampanella!"

  "What's the matter?"

  "The medicine?"

  "What's the medicine got to do with dinner?"

  "What did you put in the soup?"

  "Are you crazy, youngster? Be quiet and let the officers eat."

  "Ciampanella, are you perfectly sure of yourself?"

  "Why do you ask me if I am sure of myself?"

  "Because ... the officers aren't eating."

  "What are they doing?"

  "Just come and see, because I don't understand about cooking."

  They went running, but had scarcely passed the threshold when a bombfrom an enemy airplane burst a few feet from them. They were hit inthe chest by a column of air which turned them round, were hurled backinto the kitchen, and buried beneath a shower of masonry.

  * * * * *

  Ciampanella remained buried there, to the great misfortune ofhumanity, who, after all, had to do without his _Manual of WarCookery_, but Pinocchio was dug out alive. He was carried hastily tothe nearest ambulance station and fell into the hands of a splendidsurgeon, who, after having set a slender fracture of the arm and ofthe breastbone, swore to save him in spite of fate. He hurriedlyamputated an arm, and a fortnight later in the hospital of a near-bycity they extracted the broken ribs, for which they substituted twosilver plates.

  When Fatina and the Bersaglierino hurried to his bed to help him andcheer him they found themselves face to face with a poor creature who,with his artificial legs, arm, and breast, seemed indeed ... a woodenpuppet.

  But Pinocchio was still himself, humorous, lively, and mischievous.When he noticed that Fatina was looking at him with her big blue eyesfull of tears and pity, he shrugged his shoulders and, scratching hisleft ear vigorously, made a face and said:

  "Pretty object, heh? But you must be patient. In order to become areal boy I couldn't help but go back to ... the old one!"