  Soon he met a man in a paper hat and a white apron. He was pushing a cart filled with a kind of fruit that Pinocchio had never seen before. “Dates! dates! fresh dates! sweet dates! real African dates!” came the cry. “Even he speaks of Africa!” thought Pinocchio. “Africa seems to follow me. But what has Africa to do with dates, and what are these dates? I have never heard of them.” The man stopped; Pinocchio stopped also. A lady bought some of the dates, and it happened that one of them fell on the ground. The marionette picked it up and handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “Keep it yourself; you have earned it.” The man with the cart went on, “Dates! dates! fresh dates! sweet dates! real African dates!” Pinocchio looked after him for a time and then put the date into his mouth. Great Caesar! How delicious! Never before had he tasted anything so sweet. The orange peel was nothing compared with this! What the circus people had told him, then, was really true! “To Africa I go,” he said, “even if I break a leg. What do I care about the Red Sea, the Yellow Sea, the Green, or any other sea? I will go!” And the rascal, forgetting his home and his father, who at that very moment was waiting to give him his breakfast, set out toward the sea. As he neared the water he heard a voice call, “Pinocchio! Pinocchio!” The marionette stopped and looked around, but seeing no one, he went on. “Pinocchio! Pinocchio! Be careful! You know not what you do!” “Farewell and many thanks,” answered the stubborn marionette, and forthwith stepped into the sea. “The water is like ice this morning. No wonder it makes me feel cold; but I know how to get rid of a chill. A good swim, and I am as warm as ever.” Out shot his arms and he plunged into the water. The journey to Africa had begun. At noon he still swam on. It grew dark and on he swam. Later the moon arose and grinned at him. He kept on swimming, without a sign of fatigue, of hunger, or of sleepiness. A marionette can do things that would tire a real boy, and to Pinocchio swimming was no task at all. Pinocchio swims to Africa |
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