"It seems so to me."

"But am I ... made of wood or ..."

"You are made of iron."

"Of iron? Don't joke so with me, Fatina. If you want my nose to grow longer, dearest lady, or if you want me to turn back into a wooden puppet, I am ready to do so; but not of iron, no. I am too afraid of rust."

"But what are you talking about? Let me feel your pulse. No, that's all right, no fever. I said you were made of iron because you have come out of it all so wonderfully. You were threatened with gas gangrene, and if they had not amputated at once, it would have been the end of you, but instead ..."

"Please, please ... what did they do to me?"

"They cut off your injured leg."

"My leg!"

"Yes, indeed; they couldn't help it."

"And when did they cut it off?"

"Three days ago."

"You are perfectly certain of this?"

"I was present."

"And I ... wasn't I present?"

"I think so."

"And how is it I didn't know anything about it?"

"You were asleep."

"I think it was you who were dreaming. Look."

Before Fatina could stop him Pinocchio caught the covers and threw them off. One leg was indeed missing and just the one which he had dreamed had been burned by the brazier. He saw a heap of b.l.o.o.d.y bandages and let out such a scream that he made the other two wounded start up.

The one on the left, who looked like a monk in a hood, because from under the bands which bound his head a long s.h.a.ggy beard was sticking out, cried in annoyance:

"Heh! What is it, a locomotive? You are making as much noise as an enemy's cannon."

"Be quiet, be quiet!"

"Bersaglierino, have you seen what they did to me? They've carried off one of my legs without asking my permission."

"And they took off one of my arms, and they've made a hole in my head and cut open my stomach."

"But what kind of dirty tricks are these? I want my leg.... I want my leg!"

"If it were still on you it would be all swollen and black. Be silent, shut up, and thank G.o.d that they haven't taken the other one. Because Major Cutemup is here, and when he begins to amputate it is hard to get him to stop. Imagine, they wanted to cut off my nose."

"I want my leg!"

"Be good."

"Fatina, I beg you, make them make me another one. Write to Geppetto to make me another one, even of wood, but I want to be able to walk and run. I want to go back to the war, I do!"

The patient on the left jumped out of his bed and, in giving him a kiss, brushed his face with his bushy beard.

"There, you are a brave boy. You please me.... We will have another leg made for you, and if you want to go back to see the Boches you can come with me. Sister Fatina, is it not true that they're going to make him a new leg?"

"Certainly."

"Of wood?"

"And with machinery inside so that you can move it as if it were a real leg."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Then ..."

"Will you be good?"

"Yes ... but as soon as I catch sight of Major Cutemup I'll tell him a few things I think of him."

"How are you, Bersaglierino?"

"Better, Fatina dear."

"Be brave."

Then she moved softly away, as noiseless as a dream.

"Did you see, Pinocchio? Fatina kept her word. She had scarcely heard that I was wounded before she hurried to my bed. She is an angel and I am quite happy. But I owe it to you that I am alive. I had four bullets in my back.... Those dogs had got the range on me, and if you hadn't come to my aid they would have finished me.... And you weren't lucky, either--they shot your leg to pieces, and if the company hadn't appeared ... But we won! Hurrah for Italy!"

"And Mollica?"

"Dead. They found him near the wire, surrounded by a heap of dead enemies. He made a regular slaughter. He had your letter to Franz Joseph stuck on the end of his bayonet. Every time that he hit a foe he cried, 'Beast of a potato-eater, take this letter and carry it to your Joey.'"

"Poor Mollica! If I am able to get back there I'll avenge you."

"I told you I wanted you with me. You will see what we'll do to those creatures. I am Captain Teschisso, of the Second Regiment of Alpine Troops. What fights we have had! How we have 'strafed' them! A sh.e.l.l splinter gave me a whack and carried off one of my ears, but if you join me we'll have dozens of them every day."

"Will I go with you? Yes, indeed, if the Bersaglierino ..."

"As far as I am concerned, do what you've a mind to. I shall never return to the regiment now.... You can't make war without an arm, but ..."

Just at this moment the door of the little white room opened and Major Cutemup, followed by two young lieutenants, Fatina, and some men nurses, came in. He was a short, squatty little man, with smooth face and tiny eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed gla.s.ses, and with a stomach that would have made an alderman jealous. He looked more like a cab-driver than like an officer, and even more like a butcher who has risen to be master of a shop by selling old beef for veal.