eyes and look at me! Why don't you
answer? I was not the one who hit you, you know. Believe me, I didn't
do it. Open your eyes, Eugene? If you keep them shut, I'll die, too.
Oh, dear me, how shall I ever go home now? How shall I ever look at my
little mother again? What will happen to me? Where shall I go? Where
shall I hide? Oh, how much better it would have been, a thousand times
better, if only I had gone to school! Why did I listen to those boys?
They always were a bad influence! And to think that the teacher had told
me--and my mother, too!--'Beware of bad company!' That's what she said.
But I'm stubborn and proud. I listen, but always I do as I wish. And
then I pay. I've never had a moment's peace since I've been born! Oh,
dear! What will become of me? What will become of me?"

Pinocchio went on crying and moaning and beating his head. Again and
again he called to his little friend, when suddenly he heard heavy steps
approaching.

He looked up and saw two tall Carabineers near him.

"What are you doing stretched out on the ground?" they asked Pinocchio.

"I'm helping this schoolfellow of mine."

"Has he fainted?"

"I should say so," said one of the Carabineers, bending to look at
Eugene. "This boy has been wounded on the temple. Who has hurt him?"

"Not I," stammered the Marionette, who had hardly a breath left in his
whole body.

"If it wasn't you, who was it, then?"

"Not I," repeated Pinocchio.

"And with what was he wounded?"

"With this book," and the Marionette picked up the arithmetic text to
show it to the officer.

"And whose book is this?"

"Mine."

"Enough."

"Not another word! Get up as quickly as you can and come along with us."

"But I--"

"Come with us!"

"But I am innocent."

"Come with us!"

Before starting out, the officers called out to several fishermen
passing by in a boat and said to them:

"Take care of this little fellow who has been hurt. Take him home and
bind his wounds. Tomorrow we'll come after him."

They then took hold of Pinocchio and, putting him between them, said to
him in a rough voice: "March! And go quickly, or it will be the worse
for you!"

They did not have to repeat their words. The Marionette walked swiftly
along the road to the village. But the poor fellow hardly knew what
he was about. He thought he had a nightmare. He felt ill. His eyes saw
everything double, his legs trembled, his tongue was dry, and, try as he
might, he could not utte