The Adventures of Pinocchio (1904)/Chapter 27
Arriving at the shore, Pinocchio quickly looked up and down the coast, but there was no dogfish. The sea was as still and as shiny as a looking-glass.
“Where is the dogfish?” he asked, turning to his companions.
“It has gone to breakfast,” replied one of them, laughing.
“It may be that, being tired, he has gone to take a little nap,” said another, laughing still louder.
From these replies Pinocchio understood that the boys had played a trick on him, making him believe a thing that was not true. He turned to them and said angrily, “And now, why did you tell me this nonsense about the dogfish?”
“Because we wanted to,” they replied in a chorus.
“But why?”
“Because we wanted you to lose a day at school. Aren’t you ashamed to go to school every day so steadily? And then you are too studious. Why do you do it?”
“If I study, what business is that to you?”
“Why, it means a great deal to us because it makes us look like bad boys before the teacher.”
“Why?”
“Because the scholars who study are always compared with those who do not; and we do not like it. That is all.”
“And what should I do in order to make you all right?”
“You ought to hate school. Both the lessons and the teacher are boys’ greatest enemies.”
“And if I wish to study, what will you do?”
“We will watch for you, and at the first opportunity we will pay you up.”
“You make me laugh,” said the marionette, shaking his head.
“Take care, Pinocchio!” said the largest boy, going up to him and shaking his fist under his nose. “Do not make fun of us. Do not be so proud here because you have no fear of us. We have no fear of you. Remember you are alone. We are seven.”
“Seven, like the mortal sins,” said Pinocchio, with a burst of laughter.
“Did you hear him? He has insulted us all. He has called us the seven mortal sins!”
“Pinocchio, ask our pardon for your offenses; and if you will not, look out!”
“Coo-coo,” said the marionette, striking the end of his nose with his first finger, as he made the sound of the bird.
“Pinocchio, will you ask pardon?”
“Coo-coo.”
“You are a mule.”
“Coo-coo.”
“We will break your nose.”
“Coo-coo.”
“Now, Coo-coo, I will teach you a lesson!” cried one of them. “Take this home with you and remember it while you are at supper.” And saying that, he struck Pinocchio on the head with his fist. But it was an exchange of blows, for the lively marionette ducked his head and replied suddenly with another blow, and then the fight became general. Pinocchio, although he was alone, defended himself like a hero. His hard wooden feet worked so well that they kept all the boys at a reasonable distance. Where the feet struck they always left a black and blue spot.
Then the boys, provoked at not being able to get near the marionette, looked around for stones; but there was nothing but sand. They finally took their spelling books, geographies, histories, and 
What do you think the fishes did? Thinking that the books might be something to eat, they swam to the edge of the sea and looked at the pictures; but after swallowing several pages and frontispieces, they spat them out and made wry faces, as if to say: “This is no food for us. We are accustomed to eat much better stuff.”
Meanwhile the combat grew fiercer until a big old Crab came out of the water and, slowly walking up the beach, cried with the voice of a trombone that has caught a cold, “Stop it! stop it! These battles between boys always end badly. Some misfortune is sure to happen.”
Poor Crab! It was as if he had spoken to the wind. That scoundrel, Pinocchio, turned around and said most impolitely: “Oh, hush! ugly Crab. You would do better to eat some seaweed and cure that cold of yours. Go home to bed and take a good sweat.”
In the meantime the boys, who had used up all their own books, looked around and spied Pinocchio’s, which they seized sooner than it takes to tell it. Among his books there was a volume bound in thick cardboard. It was a treatise on arithmetic. I will leave you to imagine how heavy it must have been. One of the boys seized the arithmetic and, taking aim, threw it at Pinocchio. Instead of hitting the marionette it struck the head of one of his companions. The boy became as white as a sheet or raised bread and said only these few words, “Oh, my mother! Help me, for I am dying.”
At the sight of the little fellow apparently dying the boys were scared and ran away as fast as they could. In a few minutes there was no one left but Pinocchio.
Although he was more dead than alive through grief and fright, he ran to soak his handkerchief in the sea and began to bathe the temples of his poor schoolmate. Meanwhile he cried despairingly: “Eugene! My poor Eugene, open your eyes and look at me! Why do you not answer me? It was not I who hurt you. Believe me, it was not I. If you keep your eyes shut, you will make me die too. How shall I be able to go home now? What can I say to my good mamma? What will she say to me? Where shall I go? Where can I hide myself? Oh, how much better, a thousand times better, would it have been if I had gone to school! Why did I listen to them this morning? And to think that the teacher and also my mamma warned me, ‘Beware of bad companions!’ But I am headstrong. I am a bad, obstinate boy. I let them tell me what to do and then I do what I please. Why was I ever made? I have never had a quiet day in my life. Oh, dear! What will become of me? What will become of me?”
And Pinocchio continued to cry and weep and punch his head and call poor Eugene by name. Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps. He turned and there were two policemen. “What are you doing there?” they asked.
“I am helping my schoolmate.”
“Is he hurt?”
“It appears so.”
“Worse than that,” said one of them, bending down and looking at Eugene closely; “the boy is wounded in the temple. Who did it?”
“It was not I,” said the marionette, who had hardly any breath left in his body.
“If you did not do it, who was it then?”
“Not I,” repeated Pinocchio.
“With what was he struck?”
“With this book.” And the marionette took from the ground the treatise on arithmetic, bound in thick cardboard, and handed it to the policeman.
“Whose book is this?”
“It is mine.”
“That is enough. You must have done it. Stand up and come with us immediately.”
“But I—”
“Come with us.”
“But I am innocent.”
“Come with us.”
Before going away the policemen called some fishermen who at that moment were passing by in a rowboat near the shore, and said to them: “We trust this wounded boy to you. Take him to your house and help him. To-morrow we will come back and see how he is.”
Then they turned to Pinocchio and, placing him between them, said: “Forward! Walk quickly! If you do not, so much the worse for you.”
Without saying anything the marionette began to walk along the road that led to his home. But the poor little boy did not know whether he was in this world or not. It appeared to him that he was dreaming, and what a horrible dream it was! He 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.