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PINOCCHIO 105 convulsions of laughter, and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until from the violence of his laughter he broke a blood-vessel and died. And that time he was really dead. Pinocchio then set off running in hopes that he should reach the Fairy’s house before dark. But before long he began to suffer so dreadfully from hunger that he could not bear it, and he jumped into a field by the way-side intending to pick some bunches of muscatel grapes. Oh, that he had never done it! He had scarcely reached the vines when crack , . . his legs were caught between two cutting iron bars, and he became so giddy with pain that stars of every colour danced before his eyes. The poor puppet had been taken in a trap put there to capture some big polecats who were the scourge of the poultry-yards in the neighbourhood.
