is she doing? has she forgiven me? does she still remember me? does she still wish me well? is she far from here? can I go and see her?'
To all these rapid breathless questions the Snail replied in her usual phlegmatic manner:
'My dear Pinocchio, the poor Fairy is lying in bed at the hospital! . . .'
'At the hospital? . . .'
'It is only too true. Overtaken by a thousand misfortunes she has fallen seriously ill, and she has not even enough to buy herself a mouthful of bread.'
'Is it really so? . . . Oh, what sorrow you have given me! Oh, poor Fairy! poor Fairy! poor Fairy! . . . If I had a million I would run and carry it to her . . . but I have only forty pence . . . here they are: I was going to buy a new coat. Take them, Snail, and carry them at once to my good Fairy.'
'And your new coat? . . .'
'What matters my new coat? I would sell even these rags that I have got on to be able to help her. Go, Snail, and be quick; and in two days return to this place, for I hope I shall then be able to give you some more money. Up to this time I have worked to maintain my papa: from to-day I will work five hours more that I may also maintain my good mamma. Good-bye, Snail, I shall expect you in two days.'
