that he was really shut up in the body of this
sea-monster he began to cry and to sob out:
" Help! help! Oh, how unfortunate I am!
Will nobody come to save me?”
" Who do you think could save you, un¬
happy wretch? . . .” said a voice in the dark
that sounded like a guitar out of tune.
“Who is speaking?” asked Pinocchio,
frozen with terror.
“Tt is I! I am a poor Tunny who was
swallowed by the Dog-fish at the same time
that you were. And what fish are you!”
“ T have nothing in common with fish. I am
a puppet.”
" "Then if you are not a fish, why did you
let yourself be swallowed by the monster?”
“T didn’t let myself be swallowed: it was
the monster swallowed me! And now, what
are we to do here in the dark?”
‘“ Resign ourselves and wait until the Dog¬
fish has digested us both.”
‘But I do not want to be digested! ” howled
Pinocchio, beginning to cry again.
‘“‘ Neither do I want to be digested,” added
the Tunny; “ but I am enough of a philosopher
to console myself by thinking that when one is
born a Tunny it is more dignified to die in the
water than in oil.”