was nearly crazy. His eyes saw double. His legs trembled. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he could not say a word. And yet in the midst of that species of stupidity he felt a thorn in his heart at the thought of passing under the window of the good Fairy. He would have preferred to die.
They had already reached the city and were just on the point of entering when a gust of wind blew off Pinocchio’s hat and carried it along the road back of them.
“Will you allow me to get my hat?” asked Pinocchio.
“Yes, but do it quickly.”
The marionette ran after it, but he did not put it on his head. He placed it between his teeth and then began to run toward the sea. He flew like a musket ball.
The policemen, judging that they could not catch him, loosened a bloodhound that had gained the first premiums at all the dog shows. Pinocchio ran and the dog ran after him. All the people, hearing the noise, ran to the front doors and windows and wondered who would win the race. But the dog and Pinocchio made such a dust as they ran that they were soon hidden and were seen no more.
