The Adventures of Pinocchio (1904)/Chapter 1
Once upon a time there was—
“A king?” my little readers will immediately say.
No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not fine wood, but a simple piece of wood from the wood yard,—the kind we put in the stoves and fireplaces so as to make a fire and heat the rooms.
I do not know how it happened, but one beautiful day a certain old woodcutter found a piece of this kind of wood in his shop. The name of the old man was Antonio, but everybody called him Master Cherry on account of the point of his nose, which was always shiny and purplish, just like a ripe cherry.
As soon as Master Cherry saw that piece of wood he was overjoyed; and rubbing his hands contentedly, he mumbled to himself, “This piece of wood has come in good time. I will make from it a table leg.”
No sooner said than done. He quickly took a sharpened ax to raise the bark and shape the wood; but when he was on the point of striking it he remained with his arm in the air, because he heard a tiny, thin little voice say, “Do not strike so hard!”
Just imagine how surprised good old Master Cherry was! He turned his bewildered eyes around the room in order to see whence that little voice came; but he saw no one. He looked under the bench, and no one; he looked in a sideboard which was always closed, and no one; he looked in the basket of chips and shavings, and no one; he opened the door in order to glance around his house, and no one. What then?
“I understand,” he said, laughing and scratching his wig; “I imagined I heard that little voice. I will start to work again.”
He took up the ax and again gave the piece of wood a hard blow.
“Oh! you have hurt me!” cried the little voice, as if in pain.
This time Master Cherry became dumb, with his scared eyes nearly popping out of his head, with his mouth opened wide, and with his tongue hanging down on his chin, like a gorgon head on a fountain.
As soon as he could speak he said, trembling and stammering from fright, “But where does that little voice come from that says ‘Oh’? There is nothing alive in this room. Can it be that this piece of wood has learned to cry and scream like
Then he stopped to listen, so as to hear if there was any voice that complained. He waited two minutes, and nothing; five minutes, and nothing; ten minutes, and nothing.
“I understand,” he said, forcing a laugh and rubbing his wig; “I imagined that I heard a voice cry ‘Oh!’ I will begin to work again.” And because he was somewhat frightened, he tried to hum an air so as to make himself courageous.
Meanwhile he stopped working with the ax and took up a plane to make the wood even and clean; but while he planed he heard again the little voice, this time in a laughing tone, “Stop! you are taking the skin off my body.”
This time poor Master Cherry fell down as if shot. When he opened his eyes he found himself sitting on the ground. His face appeared transfigured, and the end of his nose, which was always purple, became blue from great fear.