hey are born puppets, live puppets, and
die puppets."

"Oh, I am sick of being a puppet!" cried Pinocchio, giving himself a
slap. "It is time that I became a man."

"And you will become one, if you know how to deserve it."

"Not really? And what can I do to deserve it?"

"A very easy thing: by learning to be a good boy."

"And you think I am not?"

"You are quite the contrary. Good boys are obedient, and you--"

"And I never obey."

"Good boys like to learn and to work, and you--"

"And I instead lead an idle, vagabond life the year through."

"Good boys always speak the truth."

"And I always tell lies."

"Good boys go willingly to school."

"And school gives me pain all over the body. But from today I will
change my life."

"Do you promise me?"

"I promise you. I will become a good little boy, and I will be the
consolation of my papa. Where is my poor papa at this moment?"

"I do not know."

"Shall I ever have the happiness of seeing him again and kissing him?"

"I think so; indeed, I am sure of it."

At this answer Pinocchio was so delighted that he took the Fairy's hands
and began to kiss them with such fervor that he seemed beside himself.
Then, raising his face and looking at her lovingly, he asked:

"Tell me, little mamma: then it was not true that you were dead?"

"It seems not," said the Fairy, smiling.

"If you only knew the sorrow I felt and the tightening of my throat when
I read, 'Here lies--'"

"I know it, and it is on that account that I have forgiven you. I saw
from the sincerity of your grief that you had a good heart; and when
boys have good hearts, even if they are scamps and have got bad habits,
there is always something to hope for; that is, there is always hope
that they will turn to better ways. That is why I came to look for you
here. I will be your mamma."

"Oh, how delightful!" shouted Pinocchio, jumping for joy.

"You must obey me and do everything that I bid you."

"Willingly, willingly, willingly!"

"Tomorrow," rejoined the Fairy, "you will begin to go to school."

Pinocchio became at once a little less joyful.

"Then you must choose an art, or a trade, according to your own wishes."

Pinocchio became very grave.

"What are you muttering between your teeth?" asked the Fairy in an
angry voice.

"I was saying," moaned the puppet in a low voice, "that it seemed to me
too late for me to go to school now."

"No, sir. Keep it in mind that it is never too