Kabanata Kabanata 27 · CANDIDE'S VOYAGE TO CONSTANTINOPLE.

The faithful Cacambo had already prevailed upon the Turkish skipper, who

was to conduct the Sultan Achmet to Constantinople, to receive Candide

and Martin on his ship. They both embarked after having made their

obeisance to his miserable Highness.

"You see," said Candide to Martin on the way, "we supped with six

dethroned kings, and of those six there was one to whom I gave charity.

Perhaps there are many other princes yet more unfortunate. For my part,

I have only lost a hundred sheep; and now I am flying into Cunegonde's

arms. My dear Martin, yet once more Pangloss was right: all is for the

best."

"I wish it," answered Martin.

"But," said Candide, "it was a very strange adventure we met with at

Venice. It has never before been seen or heard that six dethroned kings

have supped together at a public inn."

"It is not more extraordinary," said Martin, "than most of the things

that have happened to us. It is a very common thing for kings to be

dethroned; and as for the honour we have had of supping in their

company, it is a trifle not worth our attention."

No sooner had Candide got on board the vessel than he flew to his old

valet and friend Cacambo, and tenderly embraced him.

"Well," said he, "what news of Cunegonde? Is she still a prodigy of

beauty? Does she love me still? How is she? Thou hast doubtless bought

her a palace at Constantinople?"

"My dear master," answered Cacambo, "Cunegonde washes dishes on the

banks of the Propontis, in the service of a prince, who has very few

dishes to wash; she is a slave in the family of an ancient sovereign

named Ragotsky,[35] to whom the Grand Turk allows three crowns a day in

his exile. But what is worse still is, that she has lost her beauty and

has become horribly ugly."

"Well, handsome or ugly," replied Candide, "I am a man of honour, and it

is my duty to love her still. But how came she to be reduced to so

abject a state with the five or six millions that you took to her?"

"Ah!" said Cacambo, "was I not to give two millions to Senor Don

Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza,

Governor of Buenos Ayres, for permitting Miss Cunegonde to come away?

And did not a corsair bravely rob us of all the rest? Did not this

corsair carry us to Cape Matapan, to Milo, to Nicaria, to Samos, to

Petra, to the Dardanelles, to Marmora, to Scutari? Cunegonde and the old

woman serve the prince I now mentioned to you, and I am slave to the

dethroned Sultan."

"What a series of shocking calamities!" cried Candide. "But after all, I

have some diamonds left; and I may easily pay Cunegonde's ransom. Yet it

is a pity that she is grown so ugly."

Then, turning towards Martin: "Who do you think," said he, "is most to

be pitied--the Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan, King Charles Edward, or

I?"

"How should I know!" answered Martin. "I must see into your hearts to be

able to tell."

"Ah!" said Candide, "if Pangloss were here, he could tell."

"I know not," said Martin, "in what sort of scales your Pangloss would

weigh the misfortunes of mankind and set a just estimate on their

sorrows. All that I can presume to say is, that there are millions of

people upon earth who have a hundred times more to complain of than King

Charles Edward, the Emperor Ivan, or the Sultan Achmet."

"That may well be," said Candide.

In a few days they reached the Bosphorus, and Candide began by paying a

very high ransom for Cacambo. Then without losing time, he and his

companions went on board a galley, in order to search on the banks of

the Propontis for his Cunegonde, however ugly she might have become.

Among the crew there were two slaves who rowed very badly, and to whose

bare shoulders the Levantine captain would now and then apply blows from

a bull's pizzle. Candide, from a natural impulse, looked at these two

slaves more attentively than at the other oarsmen, and approached them

with pity. Their features though greatly disfigured, had a slight

resemblance to those of Pangloss and the unhappy Jesuit and Westphalian

Baron, brother to Miss Cunegonde. This moved and saddened him. He looked

at them still more attentively.

"Indeed," said he to Cacambo, "if I had not seen Master Pangloss hanged,

and if I had not had the misfortune to kill the Baron, I should think it

was they that were rowing."

At the names of the Baron and of Pangloss, the two galley-slaves uttered

a loud cry, held fast by the seat, and let drop their oars. The captain

ran up to them and redoubled his blows with the bull's pizzle.

"Stop! stop! sir," cried Candide. "I will give you what money you

please."

"What! it is Candide!" said one of the slaves.

"What! it is Candide!" said the other.

"Do I dream?" cried Candide; "am I awake? or am I on board a galley? Is

this the Baron whom I killed? Is this Master Pangloss whom I saw

hanged?"

"It is we! it is we!" answered they.

"Well! is this the great philosopher?" said Martin.

"Ah! captain," said Candide, "what ransom will you take for Monsieur de

Thunder-ten-Tronckh, one of the first barons of the empire, and for

Monsieur Pangloss, the profoundest metaphysician in Germany?"

"Dog of a Christian," answered the Levantine captain, "since these two

dogs of Christian slaves are barons and metaphysicians, which I doubt

not are high dignities in their country, you shall give me fifty

thousand sequins."

"You shall have them, sir. Carry me back at once to Constantinople, and

you shall receive the money directly. But no; carry me first to Miss

Cunegonde."

Upon the first proposal made by Candide, however, the Levantine captain

had already tacked about, and made the crew ply their oars quicker than

a bird cleaves the air.

Candide embraced the Baron and Pangloss a hundred times.

"And how happened it, my dear Baron, that I did not kill you? And, my

dear Pangloss, how came you to life again after being hanged? And why

are you both in a Turkish galley?"

"And it is true that my dear sister is in this country?" said the Baron.

"Yes," answered Cacambo.

"Then I behold, once more, my dear Candide," cried Pangloss.

Candide presented Martin and Cacambo to them; they embraced each other,

and all spoke at once. The galley flew; they were already in the port.

Instantly Candide sent for a Jew, to whom he sold for fifty thousand

sequins a diamond worth a hundred thousand, though the fellow swore to

him by Abraham that he could give him no more. He immediately paid the

ransom for the Baron and Pangloss. The latter threw himself at the feet

of his deliverer, and bathed them with his tears; the former thanked him

with a nod, and promised to return him the money on the first

opportunity.

"But is it indeed possible that my sister can be in Turkey?" said he.

"Nothing is more possible," said Cacambo, "since she scours the dishes

in the service of a Transylvanian prince."

Candide sent directly for two Jews and sold them some more diamonds, and

then they all set out together in another galley to deliver Cunegonde

from slavery.

XXVIII