But you are going to be a sorry boy before very long." Pinocchio, greatly frightened, looked about him to see whence the words had come, but he saw no one.

The donkeys galloped, the wagon rolled on smoothly, the boys slept (Lamp-Wick snored like a dormouse) and the little, fat driver sang sleepily between his teeth.
After a mile or so, Pinocchio again heard the same faint voice whispering: "Remember, little simpleton! Boys who stop studying and turn their backs upon books and schools and teachers in order to give all their time to nonsense and pleasure, sooner or later come to grief.

Oh, how well I know this! How well I can prove it to you! A day will come when you will weep bitterly, even as I am weeping now--but it will be too late!" At these whispered words, the Marionette grew more and more frightened.
He jumped to the ground, ran up to the donkey on whose back he had been riding, and taking his nose in his hands, looked at him.

Think how great was his surprise when he saw that the donkey was weeping--weeping just like a boy! "Hey, Mr.Driver!" cried the Marionette.

"Do you know what strange thing is happening here! This donkey weeps." "Let him weep.