“Who could have stolen my money and my diamonds?” cried Cunégonde, weeping; “How shall we live? What will we do it? Where to find inquisitors and Jews who give me more?”
“Alas!” said the old woman, “I suspect a Reverend Father Cordelier, who lay yesterday in the same inn as we were at Badajos; God forbid me to make a rash judgment! But he entered our room twice, and he left long before us.”
“Alas!” said Candide, “the good Pangloss had often proved to me that the property of the earth is common to all men, that every one has an equal right to it. This cordelier ought, according to these principles, to leave us enough to complete our journey. So you have nothing left, my beautiful Cunegonde?”
“Not a cent,” she said.
“What to do?” said Candide.
“Let us sell one of the horses,” said the old woman; I will go up on the rump behind Mademoiselle, although I can only stand on a buttock, and we shall arrive at Cadiz.”
There was in the same inn a prior of Benedictines; he bought the cheap horse. Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman, passed through Lucena, Chillas, Lebrixa, and finally arrived at Cadiz. A fleet was equipped there, and troops were assembled to bring to reason the reverend Jesuit fathers of Paraguay, who were accused of having revolted one of their hordes against the kings of Spain and Portugal, near the city of the Blessed Sacrament. Candide, having served with the Bulgarians, performed the Bulgarian exercise before the general of the little army with such grace, celerity, skill, pride, and agility, that he was given an infantry company at order. There he is, captain; he embarked with Mademoiselle Cunegonde, the old woman, two valets, and the two Andalusian horses which had belonged to the Grand Inquisitor of Portugal.
Throughout the voyage they reasoned a lot on the philosophy of poor Pangloss.
“We go into another universe,” said Candide; it is in this one, no doubt, that all is well; for it must be admitted that one could groan a little of what is happening in ours in physics and morals.”
“I love you with all my heart,” said Cunegonde; but my soul is still shocked at what I have seen, from what I experienced.”
“All will be well,” replied Candide; “the sea of this new world is already better than the seas of our Europe; it is more calm, the winds more constant. It is certainly the New World that is the best of all possible universes.”
“God willing!” said Cunegonde, “but I have been so horribly unhappy in mine, that my heart is almost closed to hope.”
“You complain,” said the old woman; “Alas! You have not experienced such misfortunes as mine.”
Cunégonde almost laughed, and found this good woman very pleasant to pretend to be more unhappy than herself.
“Alas!” she said, “my maid, unless you have been raped by two Bulgarians, that you have not received two knives in the stomach, that two of your castles have been demolished, did not kill two mothers and two fathers in your eyes, and you did not see two of your lovers whipped in an auto-da-fe, I do not see that you can prevail over me; add that I was born Baroness with seventy-two quarters, and that I was a cook.”
“Mademoiselle,” replied the old woman, “you do not know what my birth is; and if I showed you my behind, you would not speak as you do, and you will suspend your judgment.”
This discourse gave rise to an extreme curiosity in the minds of Cunegonde and Candide. The old woman spoke to them in these terms.
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