In Which Pinocchio Discovers That Sometimes When You Want to Advance You Have to Take a Step Backward

For a long while Pinocchio didn't know whether he was alive or dead. Then after a time he seemed to be dreaming, but the dreams were so queer that ... just imagine, he thought he was a puppet again, asleep on a chair with his feet resting on a brazier full of lighted charcoal, that one of his feet was on fire and that the flame, little by little, was creeping up his leg. And, just as once before when something similar had happened, the dream became a painful reality. However, there was another dream that comforted him. A lovely woman's smiling face would come close to him and he would hear soft, affectionate words. It was the queerest thing possible! It seemed to him that this face was set in a lovely frame of light-blue hair which came down like a veil, like a cape enfolding the graceful form of a young girl. Some one had told him that her name was Fatina, and he kept repeating the name, as once ... when he was still a little puppet and the girl with blue hair ... But what had happened to him?

One morning he opened his eyes and discovered that he was in a little white bed in a white room, and that to right and left of him in two other beds were two wounded men all enveloped in bandages.

"Bersaglierino! Bersaglierino!" cried Pinocchio, trying to raise himself up in bed. But a horrid pain made him fall back on the pillow and forced him to scream loudly. The door of the little room opened and a Red Cross nurse in her blue uniform entered swiftly.

"Oh! At last! But be good and don't try to move! The Bersaglierino is here on your right; he is better, but you must let him be quiet, and you, too, need to rest."

"Tell me, Fatina, is the Bersaglierino really alive?"

"Don't you see him? Here he is. When he wakes up you can say a few words to him. Yesterday he was so eager to know about you, but you couldn't speak to him."

"Listen, Fatina, and I ... am I really alive?"

"It seems so to me."

"But am I ... made of wood or ..."

"You are made of iron."

"Of iron? Don't joke so with me, Fatina. If you want my nose to grow longer, dearest lady, or if you want me to turn back into a wooden puppet, I am ready to do so; but not of iron, no. I am too afraid of rust."

"But what are you talking about? Let me feel your pulse. No, that's all right, no fever. I said you were made of iron because you have come out of it all so wonderfully. You were threatened with gas gangrene, and if they had not amputated at once, it would have been the end of you, but instead ..."

"Please, please ... what did they do to me?"

"They cut off your injured leg."

"My leg!"

"Yes, indeed; they couldn't help it."

"And when did they cut it off?"

"Three days ago."

"You are perfectly certain of this?"

"I was present."

"And I ... wasn't I present?"

"I think so."

"And how is it I didn't know anything about it?"

"You were asleep."

"I think it was you who were dreaming. Look."

Before Fatina could stop him Pinocchio caught the covers and threw them off. One leg was indeed missing and just the one which he had dreamed had been burned by the brazier. He saw a heap of bloody bandages and let out such a scream that he made the other two wounded start up.

The one on the left, who looked like a monk in a hood, because from under the bands which bound his head a long shaggy beard was sticking out, cried in annoyance:

"Heh! What is it, a locomotive? You are making as much noise as an enemy's cannon."

"Be quiet, be quiet!"

"Bersaglierino, have you seen what they did to me? They've carried off one of my legs without asking my permission."

"And they took off one of my arms, and they've made a hole in my head and cut open my stomach."

"But what kind of dirty tricks are these? I want my leg.... I want my leg!"

"If it were still on you it would be all swollen and black. Be silent, shut up, and thank God that they haven't taken the other one. Because Major Cutemup is here, and when he begins to amputate it is hard to get him to stop. Imagine, they wanted to cut off my nose."

"I want my leg!"

"Be good."

"Fatina, I beg you, make them make me another one. Write to Geppetto to make me another one, even of wood, but I want to be able to walk and run. I want to go back to the war, I do!"

The patient on the left jumped out of his bed and, in giving him a kiss, brushed his face with his bushy beard.

"There, you are a brave boy. You please me.... We will have another leg made for you, and if you want to go back to see the Boches you can come with me. Sister Fatina, is it not true that they're going to make him a new leg?"

"Certainly."

"Of wood?"

"And with machinery inside so that you can move it as if it were a real leg."

"Then ..."

"Will you be good?"

"Yes ... but as soon as I catch sight of Major Cutemup I'll tell him a few things I think of him."

"How are you, Bersaglierino?"

"Better, Fatina dear."

"Be brave."

Then she moved softly away, as noiseless as a dream.

"Did you see, Pinocchio? Fatina kept her word. She had scarcely heard that I was wounded before she hurried to my bed. She is an angel and I am quite happy. But I owe it to you that I am alive. I had four bullets in my back.... Those dogs had got the range on me, and if you hadn't come to my aid they would have finished me.... And you weren't lucky, either—they shot your leg to pieces, and if the company hadn't appeared ... But we won! Hurrah for Italy!"

"And Mollica?"

"Dead. They found him near the wire, surrounded by a heap of dead enemies. He made a regular slaughter. He had your letter to Franz Joseph stuck on the end of his bayonet. Every time that he hit a foe he cried, 'Beast of a potato-eater, take this letter and carry it to your Joey.'"

"Poor Mollica! If I am able to get back there I'll avenge you."

"I told you I wanted you with me. You will see what we'll do to those creatures. I am Captain Teschisso, of the Second Regiment of Alpine Troops. What fights we have had! How we have 'strafed' them! A shell splinter gave me a whack and carried off one of my ears, but if you join me we'll have dozens of them every day."

"Will I go with you? Yes, indeed, if the Bersaglierino ..."

"As far as I am concerned, do what you've a mind to. I shall never return to the regiment now.... You can't make war without an arm, but ..."

Just at this moment the door of the little white room opened and Major Cutemup, followed by two young lieutenants, Fatina, and some men nurses, came in. He was a short, squatty little man, with smooth face and tiny eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, and with a stomach that would have made an alderman jealous. He looked more like a cab-driver than like an officer, and even more like a butcher who has risen to be master of a shop by selling old beef for veal.

"Good morning, boys. You are getting on finely, eh? When I take hold of you you either die or are better off than you were before anything happened to you. Let's look at you, Bersaglierino. The arm's doing well ... the wound in your head will be healed in ten days or so. Thank God that I saved your eye. It was a risk ... we ought to have taken it out if we had followed the usual method.... No, no, I find you in good condition, so good, in fact, that I can tell you a piece of news ... they have recommended you for the silver medal. I believe his Majesty will come in person to pin it on your breast. It would be a real honor for our hospital.

"And you, lad? But really I don't need to bother about you, either. Boys are like lizards—you can cut them in pieces and they keep on living."

"Please, please, Mr. Major Carve-Beefsteak, I should like to know who gave you permission to cut off my leg."

"What? What? You dare ..."

"There's no good lecturing me, because I am not in the army, as poor Mollica used to say, so you don't frighten me worth a soldo. So I am just asking you who gave you permission to ... carry off my claw."

"Your claw? The femur was broken, the tibia cracked, the patella shattered, your temperature up over a hundred, delirium, threatened with gas gangrene.... I couldn't wait until you had gone to the devil before asking your permission to amputate. And, moreover, no more words about it. I cut when it's my duty to cut. If, in spite of the operation, the gangrene had continued I should have amputated your other leg as well. So let's look at it. Nurse, undo the bandages."

In a minute the bloody flesh was uncovered. Pinocchio bit his lips in order to keep from yelling with pain. Cutemup approached in a solemn manner, and, nearsighted as he was, had almost to stick his nose into the wound to make his examination.

"Fine.... The healing process has already begun ... the granulation is splendid, but have you any pain in the groin, boy?"

"How in the world do you expect me to know what that is?"

"Does it hurt you here?"

"No."

"Have you any pain in the sound leg?"

"No."

"Can you move it?"

"Yes."

"Bend it at the knee."

"I am doing it."

"Again, again, again. Does it pain you?"

"No."

"Fine!... Now stretch it out."

He should never have said that. Pinocchio stretched it out with such agility that there was no difference from the way he usually administered his solemnest kicks. His foot caught Cutemup right in the stomach and knocked him breathless into the arms of the young lieutenant, who had to resort to artificial respiration to revive him.

The Alpine soldier broke out into such an astonishing laugh from beneath his bandages and his beard that the others, Fatina included, had to echo him. Pinocchio played 'possum, perfectly still with his eyes half closed. When Cutemup, quite recovered, sprang toward him to give vent to his just vengeance, he seemed much surprised to see him in such a state. He examined him attentively, and, keeping himself a respectful distance away, poked with his forefinger two or three times the leg which had given him such marvelous proof of vitality and energy, then, turning to his colleagues, he began to speak in an imposing manner:

"The accident which befell me was the result of the nervous depression of the patient. The reflex motions have superiority over the will centers. The muscles slacken at the lightest pressure, like a cord of a strung bow. The vitality shown by the patient is due to a nervous over-excitation, not noticeable until now. I shall keep the patient under observation. If you come across similar cases, take notes of them that I may include them in my article. I shall order extra nutrition and care in building up the patient as soon as the wound has healed completely. Sister Fatina, note for the boy special rations of filet of beefsteak, roast chicken, eggs, custards well-sweetened, at dinner and again at supper."

At this bill of fare Pinocchio's leg by some strange phenomenon began to bend again from the knee.

The major, thoroughly absorbed in his lesson, did not notice it: "So, then, that is understood. You, Captain Teschisso, are doing splendidly; in a few days we'll take the bandage off you. Gentlemen, let us go into the next room."

They had scarcely gone out and the door was scarcely closed before Pinocchio burst out into such a hearty laugh that the captain and Bersaglierino had to laugh, too.

"You don't seem too much depressed."

"What were you doing with that leg in the air?"

"Do you know, Captain, as my first kick had gained special nourishment for me, I wanted to give him another one so that I could get a double quantity; then there would have been something for all of you."

"Thank you, you shaved poodle."

Just then Fatina returned and was surprised to see Pinocchio laughing so hard that his tongue was hanging out with happiness.

"What's this?"

"Fatina, my compliments. Did you hear what the major ordered? Filet of beefsteak, chickens, custards with heaps of sugar, at dinner and again at supper."

"You wretch!"

"I am not a wretch; I am a poor, weak invalid and no one had better feel the muscles in my legs too much who doesn't want to get kicks in the stomach."

"You little beast! Suppose I go and tell the major that ..."

"No, for Heaven's sake! Dear Fatina, keep quiet."

"On one condition."

"Let's hear it."

"That you will be good, that you will be patient and let yourself be taken care of until it is time to fit your wooden leg."

"I promise you. You know, once I was made of wood all over. In order to get ahead I can even make up my mind to take a step backward."