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 de¬
termined 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 agonising 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 Pinoc¬
chio he asked:
“Well, what do you want from me?”
" JT 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