head against the wall; but the more he cried
the longer his ears grew: they grew, and grew,
and became hairy towards the points.
At the sound of his loud outcries a beau¬
tiful little Marmot that lived on the first floor
came into the room. Seeing the puppet in
such grief she asked earnestly:
“What has happened to you, my dear
fellow-lodger? "
‘“T am ill, my dear little Marmot, very ill
. and of an illness that frightens me. Do
you understand counting a pulse?”
wee Mibties
- "Then feel and see if by chance I have got
fever.”
The little Marmot raised her right fore¬
paw, and after having felt Pinocchio’s pulse
she said to him, sighing:
" My friend, I am grieved to be obliged to
give you bad news! . . .”
" What is it?”
“You have got a very bad fever!...”
- What fever is it? ”
“It is donkey fever.”
“ "That is a fever that I do not understand,"
said the puppet, but he understood it only too
well.
" Then I will explain it to you,” said the
Marmot. " You must know that in two or