ings of these two puppets, who gesticulated and abused each other so naturally that they might have been two reasonable beings, and two persons of the world.
All at once Harlequin stopped short, and turning to the public he pointed with his hand to some one far down in the pit, and exclaimed in a dramatic tone:
'Gods of the firmament! do I dream, or am I awake? But surely that is Pinocchio! . . .'
'It is indeed Pinocchio!' cried Punchinello.
'It is indeed himself!' screamed Miss Rose, peeping from behind the scenes.
'It is Pinocchio! it is Pinocchio!' shouted all the puppets in chorus, leaping from all sides on to the stage. 'It is Pinocchio! It is our brother Pinocchio! Long live Pinocchio! . . .'
'Pinocchio, come up here to me,' cried Harlequin, 'and throw yourself into the arms of your wooden brothers!'
At this affectionate invitation Pinocchio made a leap from the end of the pit into the reserved seats; another leap landed him on the head of the leader of the orchestra, and he then sprang upon the stage.
The embraces, the hugs, the friendly pinches, and the demonstrations of warm brotherly affection that Pinocchio received from the excited crowd of actors and actresses of the puppet dramatic company beat description.
