When he came to himself again after the shock he could not in the least imagine in what world he was. All around him it was quite dark, and the darkness was so black and so profound that it seemed to him that he had fallen head downwards into an inkstand full of ink. He listened, but he could hear no noise; only from time to time great gusts of wind blew in his face. At first he could not understand where the wind came from, but at last he discovered that it came out of the monster's lungs. For you must know that the Dog-Fish suffered very much from asthma, and when he breathed it was exactly as if a north wind was blowing.
Pinocchio at first tried to keep up his courage, but when he had one proof after another that he was really shut up in the body of this sea-monster he began to cry and scream, and to sob out:
"Help! help! Oh, how unfortunate I am! Will nobody come to save me?"
"Who do you think could save you, unhappy wretch?" said a voice in the dark that sounded like a guitar out of tune.
"Who is speaking?" asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror.
"It 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?"
"I 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?"
"I 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."