rely
whipped. How is it possible, said I, that the beloved Candide and the
wise Pangloss should both be at Lisbon, the one to receive a hundred
lashes, and the other to be hanged by the Grand Inquisitor, of whom I am
the well-beloved? Pangloss most cruelly deceived me when he said that
everything in the world is for the best.

"Agitated, lost, sometimes beside myself, and sometimes ready to die of
weakness, my mind was filled with the massacre of my father, mother, and
brother, with the insolence of the ugly Bulgarian soldier, with the stab
that he gave me, with my servitude under the Bulgarian captain, with my
hideous Don Issachar, with my abominable Inquisitor, with the execution
of Doctor Pangloss, with the grand Miserere to which they whipped you,
and especially with the kiss I gave you behind the screen the day that I
had last seen you. I praised God for bringing you back to me after so
many trials, and I charged my old woman to take care of you, and to
conduct you hither as soon as possible. She has executed her commission
perfectly well; I have tasted the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you
again, of hearing you, of speaking with you. But you must be hungry, for
myself, I am famished; let us have supper."

They both sat down to table, and, when supper was over, they placed
themselves once more on the sofa; where they were when Signor Don
Issachar arrived. It was the Jewish Sabbath, and Issachar had come to
enjoy his rights, and to explain his tender love.

IX

WHAT BECAME OF CUNEGONDE, CANDIDE, THE GRAND INQUISITOR, AND THE JEW.

This Issachar was the most choleric Hebrew that had ever been seen in
Israel since the Captivity in Babylon.

"What!" said he, "thou bitch of a Galilean, was not the Inquisitor
enough for thee? Must this rascal also share with me?"

In saying this he drew a long poniard which he always carried about him;
and not imagining that his adversary had any arms he threw himself upon
Candide: but our honest Westphalian had received a handsome sword from
the old woman along with the suit of clothes. He drew his rapier,
despite his gentleness, and laid the Israelite stone dead upon the
cushions at Cunegonde's feet.

"Holy Virgin!" cried she, "what will become of us? A man killed in my
apartment! If the officers of justice come, we are lost!"

"Had not Pangloss been hanged," said Candide, "he would give us good
counsel in this emergency, for he was a profound philosopher. Failing