The poor little Donkey stuck out a long tongue and licked his nose for a long time in an effort to take away the pain.
And what was his grief when on looking up toward the boxes, he saw that the Fairy had disappeared!
He felt himself fainting, his eyes filled with tears, and he wept bitterly. No one knew it, however, least of all the Manager, who, cracking his whip, cried out:
“Bravo, Pinocchio! Now show us how gracefully you can jump through the rings.”
Pinocchio tried two or three times, but each time he came near the ring, he found it more to his taste to go under it. The fourth time, at a look from his master he leaped through it, but as he did so his hind legs caught in the ring and he fell to the floor in a heap.
When he got up, he was lame and could hardly limp as far as the stable.
“Pinocchio! We want Pinocchio! We want the little Donkey!” cried the boys from the orchestra, saddened by the accident.
No one saw Pinocchio again that evening.
The next morning the veterinary—that is, the animal doctor—declared that he would be lame for the rest of his life.
“What do I want with a lame donkey?” said the Manager to the stableboy. “Take him to the market and sell him.”