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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Who calls me?" said Pinocchio in a fright. "It is I!" Pinocchio turned round and saw a big cricket crawling slowly up the wall. "Tell me, Cricket, who may you be?" "I am the Talking-Cricket, and I have lived in this room a hundred years or more." "Now, however, this room is mine," said the puppet, "and if you would do me a pleasure go away at once, without even turning round."
"Amongst all the trades in the world there is only one that really takes my fancy." "And that trade what is it?" "It is to eat, drink, sleep and amuse myself, and to lead a vagabond life from morning to night." "As a rule," said the Talking-Cricket, "all those who follow that trade end almost always either in a hospital or in prison." "Take care, you wicked, ill-omened croaker!
Scarcely had a quarter of an hour passed, when the carriage returned. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, took the poor puppet in her arms and carried him into a little room that was wainscoted with mother-of-pearl. She sent at once to summon the most famous doctors in the neighborhood. They came immediately, one after the other: namely, a Crow, an Owl, and a Talking-Cricket.
It thundered and lightened, and I was very hungry, and then the Talking-Cricket said to me: 'It serves you right; you have been wicked and you deserve it, and I said to him: 'Take care, Cricket! and he said: 'You are a puppet and you have a wooden head, and I threw the handle of a hammer at him, and he died, but the fault was his, for I didn't wish to kill him, and the proof of it is that I put an earthenware saucer on a brazier of burning embers, but a chicken flew out and said: 'Adieu until we meet again, and many compliments to all at home': and I got still more hungry, for which reason that little old man in a night-cap, opening the window, said to me: 'Come underneath and hold out your hat, and poured a basinful of water on my head, because asking for a little bread isn't a disgrace, is it? and I returned home at once, and because I was always very hungry I put my feet on the brazier to dry them, and then you returned, and I found they were burnt off, and I am always hungry, but I have no longer any feet!
"That puppet there," continued the Talking-Cricket, "is a confirmed rogue." Pinocchio opened his eyes, but shut them again immediately. "He is a ragamuffin, a do-nothing, a vagabond." Pinocchio hid his face beneath the clothes. "That puppet there is a disobedient son who will make his poor father die of a broken heart!" At that instant a suffocated sound of sobs and crying was heard in the room.
The poor puppet stood as if he had been bewitched, with his eyes fixed, his mouth open, and the egg-shell in his hand. Recovering, however, from his first stupefaction, he began to cry and scream, and to stamp his feet on the floor in desperation, and amidst his sobs he said: "Ah, indeed, the Talking-Cricket was right.
I have indeed been a bad son, and the Talking-Cricket was right when he said: 'Disobedient boys never come to any good in the world. I have found it to be true, for many misfortunes have happened to me. Even yesterday in Fire-Eater's house I ran the risk Oh! it makes me shudder only to think of it!" "Well, then," said the Fox, "you are quite decided to go home?
You can bury your money at once, and in a few minutes you will collect two thousand, and this evening you will return with your pockets full. Will you come with us?" Pinocchio thought of the good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the warnings of the Talking-Cricket, and he hesitated a little before answering.
As he was walking along he saw a little insect shining dimly on the trunk of a tree, like a night-light in a lamp of transparent china. "Who are you?" asked Pinocchio. "I am the ghost of the Talking-Cricket," answered the insect in a low voice, so weak and faint that it seemed to come from the other world. "What do you want with me?" said the puppet. "I want to give you some advice.
The father and son looked immediately up to the ceiling, and there on a beam they saw the Talking-Cricket. "Oh, my dear little Cricket!" said Pinocchio, bowing politely to him. "Ah! now you call me 'Your dear little Cricket. But do you remember the time when you threw the handle of a hammer at me, to drive me from your house?" "You are right, Cricket! Drive me away also!
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