Pinocchio did not wait to be told twice. He took the sack at once and with a pair of scissors he cut a hole at the end and at each side, and put it on like a shirt. And with this slight clothing he set off for the village.
But as he went he did not feel at all comfortable—so little so, indeed, that for a step forward he took another backwards, and he said, talking to himself:
"How shall I ever present myself to my good little Fairy? What will she say when she sees me? Will she forgive me this second escapade? Oh, I am sure that she will not forgive me! And it serves me right, for I am a rascal. I am always promising to correct myself and I never keep my word!"
When he reached the village it was night and very dark. A storm had come on and as the rain was coming down in torrents he went straight to the Fairy's house, resolved to knock at the door.
But when he was there his courage failed him and instead of knocking he ran away some twenty paces. He returned to the door a second time and laid hold of the knocker, and, trembling, gave a little knock.
He waited and waited. At last, after half an hour had passed, a window on the top floor was opened—the house was four stories high—and Pinocchio saw a big Snail with a lighted candle on her head looking out. She called to him:
"Who is there at this hour?"
"Is the Fairy at home?" asked the puppet.
"The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened; but who are you?"
"It is I."