their cries; and taking Pinocchio on their shoulders, they carried him in triumph behind the wings on the stage.
Then came out the manager, a big man, who made people tremble just by looking at them. He had a beard, black as ink, which reached to his feet and tripped him when he walked. His mouth was as large as a furnace, his eyes looked like two lanterns of red glass, and in his hands he cracked a large whip made of serpents and tails of wolves tied together.
At the unexpected sight of the manager all the marionettes became mute. No one breathed. Why, you could have heard a fly walk! The poor marionettes, both actors and actresses, trembled like so many leaves.
“Why have you come here and made all this disorder in my theater?” he asked, looking at Pinocchio. His voice sounded like that of an ogre with a cold in his head.
“Believe me, most illustrious man, the fault is not mine!”
“Do not answer me! to-night we will settle our affairs.”
The marionettes went on with the comedy and the manager went to the kitchen where he was preparing for supper a sheep that was cooking on
