"My boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry." An hour passed, and then two, and the door was not opened. Pinocchio, who was wet through and through, and trembling from cold and fear, at last took courage and knocked again, and this time he knocked louder. At this second knock a window on the lower story opened and the same Snail appeared at it. "Beautiful little Snail," cried Pinocchio from the street, "I have been waiting for two hours! And two hours on such a bad night seem longer than two years. Be quick, for pity's sake." "My boy," answered the calm little animal--"my boy, I am a snail, and snails are never in a hurry." And the window was shut again. Shortly afterwards midnight struck; then one o'clock, then two o'clock, and the door remained still closed. Pinocchio at last, losing all patience, seized the knocker in a rage, intending to give a blow that would resound through the house. But the knocker, which was iron, turned suddenly into an eel and, slipping out of his hands, disappeared in the stream of water that ran down the middle of the street. "Ah! is that it?" shouted Pinocchio, blind with rage. "Since the knocker has disappeared, I will kick instead with all my might." And, drawing a little back, he gave a tremendous kick against the house door. The blow was indeed so violent that his foot went through the wood and stuck; and when he tried to draw it back again it was trouble thrown away, for it remained fixed like a nail that has been hammered down. Think of poor Pinocchio! He was obliged to spend the remainder of the night with one foot on the ground and the other in the air. The following morning at daybreak the door was at last opened. The clever little Snail had taken only nine hours to come down from the fourth story to the house-door. It is evident that her exertions must have been great. "What are you doing with your foot stuck in the door?" she asked the puppet. "It was an accident. Do try, beautiful little Snail, if you cannot release me from this torture." "My boy, that is the work of a carpenter, and I have never been a carpenter." "Beg the Fairy from me!" "The Fairy is asleep and must not be awakened." "But what do you suppose that I can do all day nailed to this door?" "Amuse yourself by counting the ants that pass down the street." "Bring me at least something to eat, for I am quite exhausted." "At once," said the Snail. In fact, after three hours and a half she returned to Pinocchio carrying a silver tray on her head. The tray contained a loaf of bread, a roast chicken, and four ripe apricots. "Here is the breakfast that the Fairy has sent you," said the Snail. The puppet felt very much comforted at the sight of these good things. But when he began to eat them, what was his disgust at making the discovery that the bread was plaster, the chicken cardboard, and the four apricots painted alabaster.