With another leap,
he was on the orchestra leader's head. With a third, he landed on the
stage.
It is impossible to describe the shrieks of joy, the warm embraces, the
knocks, and the friendly greetings with which that strange company of
dramatic actors and actresses received Pinocchio.
It was a heart-rending spectacle, but the audience, seeing that the play
had stopped, became angry and began to yell:
"The play, the play, we want the play!"
The yelling was of no use, for the Marionettes, instead of going on
with their act, made twice as much racket as before, and, lifting up
Pinocchio on their shoulders, carried him around the stage in triumph.
At that very moment, the Director came out of his room. He had such a
fearful appearance that one look at him would fill you with horror. His
beard was as black as pitch, and so long that it reached from his chin
down to his feet. His mouth was as wide as an oven, his teeth like
yellow fangs, and his eyes, two glowing red coals. In his huge, hairy
hands, a long whip, made of green snakes and black cats' tails twisted
together, swished through the air in a dangerous way.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44