But Pinocchio remained. Although from grief and fright he was more dead than alive, nevertheless he ran and soaked his handkerchief in the sea and began to bathe the temples of his poor schoolfellow. Crying bitterly in his despair he kept calling him by name and saying to him:
'Eugene! . . . my poor Eugene! . . . open your eyes and look at me! . . . why do you not answer? I did not do it, indeed it was not I that hurt you so! believe me, it was not! Open your eyes, Eugene. . . . If you keep your eyes shut I shall die too. . . . Oh! what shall I do? how shall I ever return home? How can I ever have the courage to go back to my good mamma? What will become of me? . . . Where can I fly to? . . . Oh! how much better it would have been, a thousand times better, if I had only gone to school! . . . Why did I listen to my companions? they have been my ruin. The master said to me, and my mamma repeated it often: "Beware of bad companions!" But I am obstinate . . . a wilful fool . . . I let them talk and then I always take my own way! and I have to suffer for it. . . . And so, ever since I have been in the world, I have never had a happy quarter of an hour. Oh dear! what will become of me, what will become of me, what will become of me? . . .'
And Pinocchio began to cry and sob,
