'That is a fever that I do not understand,' said the puppet, but he understood it only too well.
'Then I will explain it to you,' said the Marmot. 'You must know that in two or three hours you will be no longer a puppet, or a boy. . . .'
'Then what shall I be?'
'In two or three hours you will become really and truly a little donkey, like those that draw carts and carry cabbages and salad to market.'
'Oh! unfortunate that I am! unfortunate that I am!' cried Pinocchio, seizing his two ears with his hands, and pulling them and tearing them furiously as if they had been some one else's ears.
'My dear boy,' said the Marmot, by way of consoling him, 'what can you do to prevent it? It is destiny. It is written in the decrees of wisdom that all boys who are lazy, and who take a dislike to books, to schools, and to masters, and who pass their time in amusement, games, and diversions, must end sooner or later by becoming transformed into so many little donkeys.'
'But is it really so?' asked the puppet, sobbing.
'It is indeed only too true! And tears are now useless. You should have thought of it sooner!'
'But it was not my fault: believe me,
