l
you the truth, under the circumstances you would have been of great use
to me! However, I have had pity on you, so I must have patience. 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."

"For him there can be no pardon. As I have spared you he must be put on
the fire, for I am determined that my mutton shall be well roasted."

"In that case," cried Pinocchio proudly, rising and throwing away his
cap of bread crumb--"in that case I know my duty. Come on, gendarmes!
Bind me and throw me amongst the flames. No, it is not just that poor
Harlequin, my true friend, should die for me!"

These words, pronounced in a loud, heroic voice, made all the puppets
who were present cry. Even the gendarmes, although they were made of
wood, wept like two newly born lambs.

Fire-Eater at first remained as hard and unmoved as ice, but little by
little he began to melt and to sneeze. And, having sneezed four or five
times, he opened his arms affectionately and said to Pinocchio:

"You are a good, brave boy! Come here and give me a kiss."

Pinocchio ran at once and, climbing like a squirrel up the showman's
beard, he deposited a hearty kiss on the point of his nose.

"Then the pardon is granted?" asked poor Harlequin in a faint voice that
was scarcely audible.

"The pardon is gran