  Pinocchio found himself facing a man of about fifty years of age. He was stout and good-natured, and like all good hosts, asked what the gentleman would have to eat. Pinocchio, hearing himself called “gentleman,” swelled with pride, and very gravely gave his order. He was served promptly, and devoured everything before him in a way known only to hungry marionettes. In the meantime the innkeeper eyed his customer from head to foot. He addressed Pinocchio in a very respectful manner, but the marionette gave only short answers. Persons of rank ate here, and to appear like one of them he could not allow himself to waste words on common folk. Having finished his meal, the marionette asked for something to drink. “What is this drink called?” he asked, as he put down the glass and thrust his thumb into his vest pocket after the manner of a gentleman. “Nectar, your excellency.” Upon hearing himself called “excellency” Pinocchio fairly lost his head. He felt a strange lightness in his feet; indeed, he found it hard work to resist the temptation to get up and dance. “I knew that in Africa I should make my fortune,” he thought, and called for a box of cigarettes. Having smoked one of these, the brave Pinocchio arose to go out, when the host handed him a sheet of paper on which was written a row of figures. “What is this?” asked the marionette. “The bill, your excellency; the amount of your debt for the dinner.” Pinocchio stroked his wooden chin and looked at the innkeeper in surprise. “Is there anything astonishing about that, your excellence? Is it not usual in your country to pay for what you eat?” “It is amazing! I do not know what you mean! What strange custom is this that you speak of?” “In these parts, your excellency,” remarked the innkeeper, “when one eats, one must pay. However, if your lordship has no money, and intends to live at the expense of others, I have a very good remedy. One minute!” So saying, the man stepped out of the door, uttered a curious sound, and then returned. Pinocchio lost his courage. He broke down and began to weep. He begged the man to have patience. The first piece of gold he found would pay for the meal. The innkeeper smiled as he said, “I am sorry, but the thing is done.” “What is done?” asked the marionette. “I have sent for the police.” “The police!” cried the marionette, shaking with fear. “The police! Even in Africa there are policemen? Please, sir, send them back! I do not want to go to prison.” Policemen confront Pinocchio All this was useless talk. Two black policemen were already there. Straight toward the marionette they went and asked his name. “Pinocchio,” he answered in a faint voice. “What is your business?” “I am a marionette.” “Why have you come to Africa?” “I will tell you,” replied Pinocchio, “You gentlemen must know that my poor father sold his coat to buy me a spelling book, and as I have heard that there is plenty of gold and silver in Africa, I have come here.” “What kind of talk is this?” asked the elder of the two policemen. “No nonsense! Show us your papers.” “What papers! I left all I had at school.” The policemen cut short the marionette’s words by taking out their handcuffs and preparing to lead him away to prison. But the innkeeper was a good-hearted man, and he was sorry for the poor blockhead. He begged them to leave Pinocchio in his charge. “So long as you are satisfied, we are satisfied,” said the policemen. “If you wish to give away your food, that is your own affair;” and they went off without saying another word. |
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