Instead of you I will burn under the spit one of the puppets belonging
to my company. Ho there, gendarmes!"
At this call two wooden gendarmes immediately appeared. They were very
long and very thin and had on cocked hats, and held unsheathed swords
in their hands.
The showman said to them in a hoarse voice:
"Take Harlequin, bind him securely, and then throw him on the fire to
burn. I am determined that my mutton shall be well roasted."
Only imagine that poor Harlequin! His terror was so great that his
legs bent under him, and he fell with his face on the ground.
At this agonizing sight Pinocchio, weeping bitterly, threw himself at
the showman's feet, and bathing his long beard with his tears he began
to say in a supplicating voice:
"Have pity, Sir Fire-eater!"
"Here there are no sirs," the showman answered severely.
"Have pity, Sir Knight!"
"Here there are no knights!"
"Have pity, Commander!"
"Here there are no commanders!"
"Have pity, Excellence!"
Upon hearing himself called Excellence the showman began to smile,
and became at once kinder and more tractable. Turning to Pinocchio he
asked:
"Well, what do you want from me?"
"I implore you to pardon poor Harlequin.
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