Only to think of poor Pinocchio's terror at the sight of the monster. He tried to avoid it, to change his direction; he tried to escape, but that immense, wide-open mouth came towards him with the velocity of an arrow. "Be quick, Pinocchio, for pity's sake!" cried the beautiful little goat, bleating. And Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his chest, his legs, and his feet. "Quick, Pinocchio, the monster is close upon you!" And Pinocchio swam quicker than ever, and flew on with the rapidity of a ball from a gun. He had nearly reached the rock, and the little goat, leaning over towards the sea, had stretched out her fore-legs to help him out of the water! But it was too late! The monster had overtaken him and, drawing in his breath, he sucked in the poor puppet as he would have sucked a hen's egg; and he swallowed him with such violence and avidity that Pinocchio, in falling into the Dog-Fish's stomach, received such a blow that he remained unconscious for a quarter of an hour afterwards. When he came to himself again after the shock he could not in the least imagine in what world he was. All around him it was quite dark, and the darkness was so black and so profound that it seemed to him that he had fallen head downwards into an inkstand full of ink. He listened, but he could hear no noise; only from time to time great gusts of wind blew in his face. At first he could not understand where the wind came from, but at last he discovered that it came out of the monster's lungs. For you must know that the Dog-Fish suffered very much from asthma, and when he breathed it was exactly as if a north wind was blowing. Pinocchio at first tried to keep up his courage, but when he had one proof after another that he was really shut up in the body of this sea-monster he began to cry and scream, and to sob out: "Help! help! Oh, how unfortunate I am! Will nobody come to save me?" "Who do you think could save you, unhappy wretch?" said a voice in the dark that sounded like a guitar out of tune. "Who is speaking?" asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror. "It is I! I am a poor Tunny who was swallowed by the Dog-Fish at the same time that you were. And what fish are you?" "I have nothing in common with fish. I am a puppet." "Then, if you are not a fish, why did you let yourself be swallowed by the monster?" "I didn't let myself be swallowed; it was the monster swallowed me! And now, what are we to do here in the dark?" "Resign ourselves and wait until the Dog-Fish has digested us both." "But I do not want to be digested!" howled Pinocchio, beginning to cry again. "Neither do I want to be digested," added the Tunny; "but I am enough of a philosopher to console myself by thinking that when one is born a Tunny it is more dignified to die in the water than in oil." "That is all nonsense!" cried Pinocchio. "It is my opinion," replied the Tunny, "and opinions, so say the political Tunnies, ought to be respected."