CHAPTER XI
THE FIRST NIGHT IN AFRICA
“And now I must pass another night here alone on these bare rocks!” he thought.
The unhappy marionette began to tremble. He tried to walk, but the night was so dark that it was impossible to see where to go. The tears rolled down his wooden cheeks. He thought of his disobedience and of his stubbornness. He remembered the warnings his father had given him, the advice of his teacher, and the kindly words of the good Fairy. He remembered the promises he had made to be good, obedient, and studious. How happy he had been! He recalled the day when his father’s face beamed with pleasure at his progress. He saw the happy smile with which his protecting Fairy greeted him. His tears fell fast, and sobs rent his heart.
“If I should die, here in this gloomy place! If I should die of weariness, of hunger, of fear! To die a marionette without having had the happiness of becoming a real boy!”
He wept bitterly, and yet his troubles had scarcely begun. Even while his tears were flowing down his cheeks and into the dark water, he heard prolonged howls. At the same time he saw lights moving to and fro, as if driven by the wind.
“What in the world is this? Who is carrying those lanterns?” asked Pinocchio, continuing to sob.
As if in answer to his questions, two lights came down the rocky coast and drew nearer to him.
Along with the lights came the howls, which sounded like those he had heard at the circus, only more natural and terrible.
“I hope this will end well,” the marionette said to himself, “but I have some doubt about it.”
He threw himself on the ground and tried to hide between the rocks. A minute later and he felt a warm breath on his face. There stood the shadowy form of a hyena, its open mouth ready to devour the marionette at one gulp.