"Wait for me there.

I'll come down to open the door for you." "Hurry, I beg of you, for I am dying of cold." "My boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry." An hour passed, two hours; and the door was still closed.

Pinocchio, who was trembling with fear and shivering from the cold rain on his back, knocked a second time, this time louder than before.
At that second knock, a window on the third floor opened and the same Snail looked out.
"Dear little Snail," cried Pinocchio from the street.

"I have been waiting two hours for you! And two hours on a dreadful night like this are as long as two years.

Hurry, please!" "My boy," answered the Snail in a calm, peaceful voice, "my dear boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry." And the window closed.
A few minutes later midnight struck; then one o'clock--two o'clock.