of her rank and merit. She likewise
accepted her proposal, and engaged all the passengers, one after the
other, to relate their adventures; and then both she and Candide allowed
that the old woman was in the right.

"It is a great pity," said Candide, "that the sage Pangloss was hanged
contrary to custom at an _auto-da-fe_; he would tell us most amazing
things in regard to the physical and moral evils that overspread earth
and sea, and I should be able, with due respect, to make a few
objections."

While each passenger was recounting his story, the ship made her way.
They landed at Buenos Ayres. Cunegonde, Captain Candide, and the old
woman, waited on the Governor, Don Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y
Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza. This nobleman had a stateliness
becoming a person who bore so many names. He spoke to men with so noble
a disdain, carried his nose so loftily, raised his voice so
unmercifully, assumed so imperious an air, and stalked with such
intolerable pride, that those who saluted him were strongly inclined to
give him a good drubbing. Cunegonde appeared to him the most beautiful
he had ever met. The first thing he did was to ask whether she was not
the captain's wife. The manner in which he asked the question alarmed
Candide; he durst not say she was his wife, because indeed she was not;
neither durst he say she was his sister, because it was not so; and
although this obliging lie had been formerly much in favour among the
ancients, and although it could be useful to the moderns, his soul was
too pure to betray the truth.

"Miss Cunegonde," said he, "is to do me the honour to marry me, and we
beseech your excellency to deign to sanction our marriage."

Don Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza,
turning up his moustachios, smiled mockingly, and ordered Captain
Candide to go and review his company. Candide obeyed, and the Governor
remained alone with Miss Cunegonde. He declared his passion, protesting
he would marry her the next day in the face of the church, or otherwise,
just as should be agreeable to herself. Cunegonde asked a quarter of an
hour to consider of it, to consult the old woman, and to take her
resolution.

The old woman spoke thus to Cunegonde:

"Miss, you have seventy-two quarterings, and not a farthing; it is now
in your power to be wife to the greatest lord in South America, who has
very beautiful moustachios. Is it for you to pique yourself upon