Free Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi

ne’er-do-well.”
    â€œI beg your pardon,” replied Pinocchio, “but I am so!”
    â€œIn that case, you’re absolutely right,” said the jailer. And doffing his cap respectfully and saying goodbye, he unlocked the door and allowed Pinocchio to go free.

20
    I MAGINE Pinocchio’s happiness when he found himself free. Without a second thought, he quickly left the city and went back down the road that led to the Fairy’s little house.
    On account of the drizzly weather, the whole road had turned into a bog, and with every step Pinocchio sank down to his knees. But he didn’t give up. Desperately wishing to see his daddy and his Little Sister with Sky-Blue Hair, he ran in leaps and bounds like a greyhound, and as he ran the mud spattered him up to his cap. All the while he was saying to himself, “So many bad things have happened to me—and I deserved them! Because I’m a stubborn, obstinate puppet, and I always do as I please, paying no attention to those who love me, whose judgment is a thousand times better than mine! But from now on, I resolve to change my life and to become a well-behaved, obedient boy—because by now I’ve seen firsthand that children, if they’re disobedient, always lose out and never do anything right. I wonder if my daddy has waited for me? Will I find him at the Fairy’s house? Poor man, it’s been so long since I’ve seen him, I’m dying to shower him with hugs and kisses! And will the Fairy forgive my bad behavior? And to think she had treated me so kindly and so lovingly—and to think that it’s thanks to her I’m still alive! Has there ever been a boy as ungrateful and as heartless as I am?”
    He was still talking to himself like that when he suddenly came to a stop, frightened, and took four steps backward.
    What do you think he saw?
    He saw, stretched across the road, a large Serpent: its skin was green, its eyes were fire, and its pointy tail was smoking like a chimney.
    You can’t imagine the puppet’s fear. He ran more than half a kilometer away before sitting down on a little pile of stones, to wait for the Serpent to go on its merry way and leave the road clear.
    He waited an hour, two hours, three hours: but the Serpent was still there, and even from a distance he could see the flame in its eyes and the column of smoke rising from the tip of its tail.
    Finally Pinocchio, screwing up his courage, approached to within a few steps of the Serpent, and in a sweet, wheedling voice said, “Excuse me, Mr. Serpent, could you do me the favor of moving a little to one side, so that I might pass?”
    He might as well have spoken to a wall. The Serpent didn’t budge.
    Pinocchio tried again, in the same voice: “You see, Mr. Serpent, I’m going home, where my daddy is waiting for me, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen him! Might you allow me, then, to continue on my way?”
    He waited for some sign of a response to his question, but no response came. Indeed the Serpent, who up to that point had seemed full of vim and vigor, became motionless and almost rigid. His eyes closed and his tail stopped smoking.
    â€œCould it really be dead?” said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands with glee. Without wasting a moment, he started to step across the Serpent to the far side of the road. But he had barely lifted his leg when the Serpent popped up like a spring, and the puppet, shrinking back in fear, stumbled and fell to the ground.
    And he happened to fall so awkwardly that he wound up with his head stuck in the mud and his legs sticking up in the air.
    At the sight of that puppet, with his head planted and his legs thrashing with incredible speed, the Serpent was overcome by a fit of laughter—he laughed and he laughed and he laughed, until the strain of laughing too hard caused a vein to burst in his chest. And then he really was dead.
    So Pinocchio started running