Pinocchio became very grave.
"What are you muttering between your teeth?" asked the Fairy in an angry voice.
"I was saying," moaned the puppet in a low voice, "that it seemed to me too late for me to go to school now."
"No, sir. Keep it in mind that it is never too late to learn and to instruct ourselves."
"But I do not wish to follow either an art or a trade."
"Why?"
"Because it tires me to work."
"My boy," said the Fairy, "those who talk in that way end almost always either in prison or in the hospital. Let me tell you that every man, whether he is born rich or poor, is obliged to do something in this world—to occupy himself, to work. Woe to those who lead slothful lives. Sloth is a dreadful illness and must be cured at once, in childhood. If not, when we are old it can never be cured."
Pinocchio was touched by these words and, lifting his head quickly, he said to the Fairy:
"I will study, I will work, I will do all that you tell me, for indeed I have become weary of being a puppet, and I wish at any price to become a boy. You promised me that I should, did you not?"