“Will you please give me a little bread?”
“Wait there, and I will return immediately,” replied the old man, believing that he had to deal with some of the bad boys who go around at night worrying people by ringing their bells. After half a minute the window opened again and the same old man said to Pinocchio, “Come under the window and hold your hat.”
Pinocchio, who had not yet a hat, approached and was nearly drowned by a great deluge of water that the old man poured down on him from a large bucket.
He returned home like a drowned rat, weak from hunger and tired out; and because he had not enough strength to stand upright, he fell into a chair and rested his feet on the stove that was filled with burning shavings, and fell asleep. But while he slept, his feet, which were of wood, took fire and slowly became cinders. But Pinocchio snored away just as if his feet belonged to some one else.
He was awakened the next morning by some one who had knocked at the door.
“Who is there?” he asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“It is I,” replied a voice.
That voice was the voice of Geppetto.
