"Come to the arms of your wooden brothers!" At such a loving invitation, Pinocchio, with one leap from the back of the orchestra, found himself in the front rows.

With another leap, he was on the orchestra leader's head.

With a third, he landed on the stage.
It is impossible to describe the shrieks of joy, the warm embraces, the knocks, and the friendly greetings with which that strange company of dramatic actors and actresses received Pinocchio.
It was a heart-rending spectacle, but the audience, seeing that the play had stopped, became angry and began to yell: "The play, the play, we want the play!" The yelling was of no use, for the Marionettes, instead of going on with their act, made twice as much racket as before, and, lifting up Pinocchio on their shoulders, carried him around the stage in triumph.
At that very moment, the Director came out of his room.

He had such a fearful appearance that one look at him would fill you with horror.

His beard was as black as pitch, and so long that it reached from his chin down to his feet.