There was a large terra-cotta pot with a fine plant of basil in it standing on the window-sill, and the furious Pinocchio seized it in both hands and hurled it down with all his force. Coccorito would have come to a sad ending if the god of parrots had not protected his topknot. The flower-pot grazed the stand and was shattered against the marble parapet, and the pieces, falling down, hit against the large stained-glass window opening on to the terrace and broke it.
Pinocchio, who could hardly believe that he had done so much damage, stood still a moment and gazed stupidly at the pile of broken pieces and at the parrot, who laughed as if he would burst. But when Pinocchio saw a big officer rush angrily over the terrace, with his hair brushed up on his head, a huge mustache beneath his curved nose, and a thick switch in his hand, he was seized with such a fright that he threw over his shoulders the first thing in the way of clothing he could lay his hand on, rushed to the door, opened it with a kick, ran through a small room adjoining, sped down the stairs at breakneck speed, flung open the street door and—Heavens! He felt a violent blow on his stomach and, as if hurled from a catapult, he was thrown into the air and fell down the rest of the steps, his legs out before him. But he didn't stay still when he got to the bottom. He sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, rubbed himself on the injured part, and was off again. He seemed to see some one strolling there in the middle of the street; he thought he heard himself called twice or thrice by a well-known voice, but the fear which was driving him bade him run, and he ran with all the strength he had in his body.
Poor Papa Geppetto! It was indeed he who was strolling in the middle of the street and who, seeing Pinocchio flying out of the house like a madman, wrapped in a flowered chintz curtain, had called to him imploringly.
And so it was—in his hurry Pinocchio had thrown over his shoulders one of the curtains of his room, and if I must tell you all the truth, he was a perfectly comical sight. Soon Pinocchio had a string of people at his heels crying out: "Catch the madman! Give it to the madman!"
Catch him! That was easy to say, but it was no easy matter to grab hold of the rascal. Indeed, his pursuers were soon weary, and Pinocchio might have thought himself safe if a dog hadn't suddenly joined in the game. It was a large jet-black poodle that had come from no one knew where. With a couple of bounds he had caught up with Pinocchio and had seized the curtain in his teeth and was dragging it through the dust. Suddenly he stiffened on his four legs and Pinocchio gave a little whirl and found himself face to face with the animal.
"Ho, ho, ho! What do I see? Oh, Medoro, don't you recognize me? Give me your paw."
Medoro growled and shook the curtain violently, which was still knotted about Pinocchio's waist. It was only then that he noticed the strange covering he had on and burst out laughing.
"Oh, Medoro! What do you really want to do with this rag? I'll give it to you willingly."
He had scarcely undone the knots when Medoro made a spring and was off down the street they had come, the curtain in his teeth. The puppet stood there, quite upset. Medoro had given him a lesson. The dog that had been so friendly had turned on him and, after having pulled the miserable old curtain off him, had made off without paying any further attention to his old friend.