The Inn of the Red LobsterCat and Fox and Marionette walked and walked and walked.
At last, toward evening, dead tired, they came to theInn of the Red Lobster.
"Let us stop here a while," said the Fox, "to eat a biteand rest for a few hours. At midnight we'll start out again,for at dawn tomorrow we must be at the Field of Wonders."They went into the Inn and all three sat down at thesame table. However, not one of them was very hungry.
The poor Cat felt very weak, and he was able toeat only thirty-five mullets with tomato sauce and fourportions of tripe with cheese. Moreover, as he was soin need of strength, he had to have four more helpings ofbutter and cheese.
The Fox, after a great deal of coaxing, tried his bestto eat a little. The doctor had put him on a diet, and hehad to be satisfied with a small hare dressed with a dozenyoung and tender spring chickens. After the hare, heordered some partridges, a few pheasants, a couple ofrabbits, and a dozen frogs and lizards. That was all.
He felt ill, he said, and could not eat another bite.
Pinocchio ate least of all. He asked for a bite of breadand a few nuts and then hardly touched them. The poorfellow, with his mind on the Field of Wonders, wassuffering from a gold-piece indigestion.
Supper over, the Fox said to the Innkeeper:
"Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio andthe other for me and my friend. Before starting out,we'll take a little nap. Remember to call us at midnightsharp, for we must continue on our journey.""Yes, sir," answered the Innkeeper, winking in a knowing wayat the Fox and the Cat, as if to say, "I understand."As soon as Pinocchio was in bed, he fell fast asleepand began to dream. He dreamed he was in the middleof 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 tosay, "Let him who wants us take us!"Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take ahandful of them, he was awakened by three loud knocks atthe door. It was the Innkeeper who had come to tell himthat 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 whichsaid that his first-born was suffering from chilblainsand was on the point of death. He could not even waitto say good-by to you.""Did they pay for the supper?""How could they do such a thing? Being people ofgreat refinement, they did not want to offend you sodeeply as not to allow you the honor of paying the bill.""Too bad! That offense would have been more thanpleasing 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 andstarted on his way toward the field that was to make him a rich man.
He walked on, not knowing where he was going, forit was dark, so dark that not a thing was visible. Roundabout him, not a leaf stirred. A few bats skimmed hisnose now and again and scared him half to death. Onceor twice he shouted, "Who goes there?" and the far-awayhills echoed back to him, "Who goes there? Who goesthere? Who goes. . . ?"As he walked, Pinocchio noticed a tiny insectglimmering on the trunk of a tree, a small being that glowedwith a pale, soft light.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the ghost of the Talking Cricket," answered thelittle being in a faint voice that sounded as if it came froma far-away world.
"What do you want?" asked the Marionette.
"I want to give you a few words of good advice.
Return home and give the four gold pieces you haveleft to your poor old father who is weeping because hehas not seen you for many a day.""Tomorrow my father will be a rich man, for thesefour gold pieces will become two thousand.""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. Good-by, Cricket.""Good night, Pinocchio, and may Heaven preserve youfrom the Assassins."There was silence for a minute and the light of theTalking Cricket disappeared suddenly, just as if someonehad snuffed it out. Once again the road was plungedin darkness.
