Cat and Fox and Marionette walked and walked and walked. At last, toward evening, dead tired, they came to the Inn of the Red Lobster.
“Let us stop here a while,” said the Fox, “to eat a bite and rest for a few hours. At midnight we’ll start out again, for at dawn tomorrow we must be at the Field of Wonders.”
Supper over, Pinocchio, the Fox and Cat went to bed. As soon as he was in bed, Pinocchio fell asleep and began to dream. He dreamt he was in the middle of a field. The field was full of vines heavy with grapes. The grapes were no other than gold coins which tinkled merrily as they swayed in the wind. They seemed to say, “Let him who wants us take us!”
Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take a handful of them, he was awakened by three loud knocks at the door. It was the Innkeeper who had come to tell him that midnight had struck.
“Are my friends ready?” the Marionette asked him.
“Indeed, yes! They went two hours ago.”
“Why in such a hurry?”
“Unfortunately the Cat received a telegram which said that his first-born was suffering from chilblains and was on the point of death. He could not even wait to say goodbye to you.”
“Did they pay for the supper?”
“How could they do such a thing? Being people of great refinement, they did not want to offend you so deeply as not to allow you the honour of paying the bill.”
“Too bad! That offence would have been more than pleasing to me,” said Pinocchio, scratching his head. “Where did my good friends say they would wait for me?” he added.
“At the Field of Wonders, at sunrise tomorrow morning.”
Pinocchio paid a gold piece for the three suppers and started on his way toward the field that was to make him a rich man. He walked on, not knowing where he was going, for it was dark, so dark that not a thing was visible. Round about him, not a leaf stirred. A few bats skimmed his nose now and again and scared him half to death. As he walked, Pinocchio noticed a tiny insect glimmering on the trunk of a tree, a small being that glowed with a pale, soft light.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the ghost of the talking Cricket,” answered the little being in a faint voice that sounded as if it came from a faraway world.
“What do you want?” asked the Marionette.
“I want to give you a few words of good advice. Don’t listen to those who promise you wealth overnight, my boy. As a rule they are either fools or swindlers! Listen to me and go home.”
“But I want to go on!”
“The hour is late!”
“I want to go on.”
“The night is very dark.”
“I want to go on.”
“The road is dangerous.”
“I want to go on.”
“Remember that boys who insist on having their own way, sooner or later come to grief.”
“The same nonsense. Goodbye, Cricket.”
“Good night, Pinocchio, and may heaven preserve you from the Assassins.”
Excerpted from The Patua Pinocchio with permission from Tara Books.
Book: The Patua Pincchio
Author: Carlo Collodi, Illustrator: Swarna Chitrakar
Publisher: Tara Books
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