Ciampanella rubbed his ears, tied an apron around his waist as when he entered upon his official functions, filled up the little stove with charcoal and lighted a fine fire. When Pinocchio returned to the kitchen, followed by the prisoners, a pair of tongs and a shovel were heating on the red-hot charcoal.
At the sight of these the Croat and the Hungarian exchanged glances and a few quick, dry phrases in their language.
Ciampanella advanced triumphantly to within a foot of them, bowed like an actor to an applauding audience, and unfolded one of his most polished discourses:
"Gentlemen, our officers say that we must respect the enemy, and I respect you according to command; but in case any one should persist in refusing to speak, just like the beasts, I should feel it my duty to treat him like a beast, and my superiors would say to me, 'Ciampanella, you're right.' I explain this because we have need of certain information, so we take the liberty of asking you in secret certain things which you, gentlemen, can answer, after which we will give you special attention in our culinary service. This is said and promised, so I begin my questions. We want to know how many men and how many officers that big simpleton of your emperor has whipped up together against us."
No answer.
"What? Are you deaf? Don't you understand modern Italian? Then I'll talk ancient Roman to you."
Ciampanella grabbed from the stove the red-hot shovel and waved it before the Austrians' noses. Their eyes popped out with fright, but they didn't utter a word.
"You will either answer or I will give you two kisses with the shovel on your right cheeks and two on your left."
"May you be skinned alive! To call me a brigand! Me! Pinocchio, which creature is this, Spitz or Spotz?"