The puppet-master Fire-Eater (for that was his name) looked like a terrifying man, I don't deny it, especially with that horrid black beard of his which covered his whole chest and both his legs like an apron; but deep down he wasn't a bad man at all. The proof of it is that when he saw poor Pinocchio brought before him, struggling this way and that and screaming, “I don't want to die, I don't want to die!”, he at once began to be moved and to feel sorry for him; and after holding out for a good long while, in the end he couldn't bear it any longer, and let out a most tremendous sneeze.
At that sneeze, Harlequin, who until then had been sorrowful and drooping like a weeping willow, brightened up all over his face and, bending down towards Pinocchio, whispered to him softly:
“Good news, brother! The puppet-master has sneezed, and that's a sign that he's taken pity on you, and now you're saved.”
For you must know that, whereas all men, when they feel pity for someone, either cry or at least pretend to wipe their eyes, Fire-Eater, on the other hand, every time he was truly touched, had the habit of sneezing. It was as good a way as any of letting others know how tender his heart was.
After sneezing, the puppet-master, still keeping up his gruff manner, shouted at Pinocchio:
“Stop that crying! Your wailing has given me a funny little ache down here at the bottom of my stomach.... I feel a pang that almost, almost.... atishoo! atishoo!” and he sneezed twice more.
“Bless you!” said Pinocchio.
“Thank you. And are your father and mother still alive?” asked Fire-Eater.
“My father is; I never knew my mother.”
“Who knows how sad your old father would be if I had you thrown onto those burning coals now. Poor old man! I feel sorry for him.... atishoo! atishoo! atishoo!” and he sneezed three more times.
“Bless you!” said Pinocchio.
“Thank you. Still, you must feel sorry for me too, because, as you see, I have no more wood to finish cooking that roast sheep, and you, to tell the truth, would have come in very handy for that! But now I've taken pity on you, and it can't be helped. Instead of you, I'll burn some puppet from my company under the spit. Ho there, gendarmes!”
At this command two wooden gendarmes appeared at once, very long and very thin, with cocked hats on their heads and drawn sabres in their hands.
Then the puppet-master said to them in a wheezing voice:
“Seize that Harlequin there, tie him up good and tight, and then throw him on the fire to burn. I want my sheep to be well roasted!”
Imagine poor Harlequin! His fright was so great that his legs gave way under him and he fell flat on his face on the ground.
At the sight of that heart-rending scene, Pinocchio went and threw himself at the puppet-master's feet and, weeping floods of tears and wetting every hair of his very long beard with them, began to say in a pleading voice:
“Mercy, sir Fire-Eater!...”
“There are no sirs here!” the puppet-master replied harshly.
“Mercy, Sir Knight!...”
“There are no knights here!”
“Mercy, sir Commander!”
“There are no commanders here!”
“Mercy, your Excellency!...”
On hearing himself called Excellency, the puppet-master at once pursed his lips into a little round mouth and, becoming all of a sudden more human and more reasonable, said to Pinocchio:
“Well, what do you want from me?”
“I beg you to pardon poor Harlequin!...”
“There's no pardon to be had here. If I've spared you, I must have him put on the fire, because I want my sheep to be well roasted.”
“In that case,” cried Pinocchio proudly, drawing himself up and throwing away his cap of bread dough, “in that case I know what my duty is. Come on, gentlemen gendarmes! Tie me up and throw me into those flames over there. No, it isn't right that poor Harlequin, my true friend, should die for me!”
These words, spoken in a loud voice and in a heroic tone, made all the puppets who were present at that scene burst into tears. Even the gendarmes, although they were made of wood, were crying like two little suckling lambs.
Fire-Eater at first remained as hard and unmoved as a block of ice: but then, little by little, he too began to be touched and to sneeze. And after four or five sneezes, he opened his arms affectionately and said to Pinocchio:
“You're a really good boy! Come here to me and give me a kiss.”
Pinocchio ran over at once and, climbing up the puppet-master's beard like a squirrel, went and planted a lovely kiss on the tip of his nose.
“So I'm pardoned?” asked poor Harlequin, in a thread of a voice that could barely be heard.
“You're pardoned!” answered Fire-Eater; then he added, sighing and shaking his head:
“Oh well! For this evening I'll resign myself to eating the sheep half raw: but another time, woe betide whoever's turn it is!...”
At the news of the pardon, the puppets all ran onto the stage and, lighting the lamps and the chandeliers as if for a gala night, began to leap about and dance.
Dawn came and they were still dancing.