第 七 章 · HOW THE OLD WOMAN TOOK CARE OF CANDIDE, AND HOW HE FOUND THE OBJECT HE

LOVED.

Candide did not take courage, but followed the old woman to a decayed

house, where she gave him a pot of pomatum to anoint his sores, showed

him a very neat little bed, with a suit of clothes hanging up, and left

him something to eat and drink.

"Eat, drink, sleep," said she, "and may our lady of Atocha,[9] the great

St. Anthony of Padua, and the great St. James of Compostella, receive

you under their protection. I shall be back to-morrow."

Candide, amazed at all he had suffered and still more with the charity

of the old woman, wished to kiss her hand.

"It is not my hand you must kiss," said the old woman; "I shall be back

to-morrow. Anoint yourself with the pomatum, eat and sleep."

Candide, notwithstanding so many disasters, ate and slept. The next

morning the old woman brought him his breakfast, looked at his back, and

rubbed it herself with another ointment: in like manner she brought him

his dinner; and at night she returned with his supper. The day following

she went through the very same ceremonies.

"Who are you?" said Candide; "who has inspired you with so much

goodness? What return can I make you?"

The good woman made no answer; she returned in the evening, but brought

no supper.

"Come with me," she said, "and say nothing."

She took him by the arm, and walked with him about a quarter of a mile

into the country; they arrived at a lonely house, surrounded with

gardens and canals. The old woman knocked at a little door, it opened,

she led Candide up a private staircase into a small apartment richly

furnished. She left him on a brocaded sofa, shut the door and went away.

Candide thought himself in a dream; indeed, that he had been dreaming

unluckily all his life, and that the present moment was the only

agreeable part of it all.

The old woman returned very soon, supporting with difficulty a trembling

woman of a majestic figure, brilliant with jewels, and covered with a

veil.

"Take off that veil," said the old woman to Candide.

The young man approaches, he raises the veil with a timid hand. Oh!

what a moment! what surprise! he believes he beholds Miss Cunegonde? he

really sees her! it is herself! His strength fails him, he cannot utter

a word, but drops at her feet. Cunegonde falls upon the sofa. The old

woman supplies a smelling bottle; they come to themselves and recover

their speech. As they began with broken accents, with questions and

answers interchangeably interrupted with sighs, with tears, and cries.

The old woman desired they would make less noise and then she left them

to themselves.

"What, is it you?" said Candide, "you live? I find you again in

Portugal? then you have not been ravished? then they did not rip open

your belly as Doctor Pangloss informed me?"

"Yes, they did," said the beautiful Cunegonde; "but those two accidents

are not always mortal."

"But were your father and mother killed?"

"It is but too true," answered Cunegonde, in tears.

"And your brother?"

"My brother also was killed."

"And why are you in Portugal? and how did you know of my being here? and

by what strange adventure did you contrive to bring me to this house?"

"I will tell you all that," replied the lady, "but first of all let me

know your history, since the innocent kiss you gave me and the kicks

which you received."

Candide respectfully obeyed her, and though he was still in a surprise,

though his voice was feeble and trembling, though his back still pained

him, yet he gave her a most ingenuous account of everything that had

befallen him since the moment of their separation. Cunegonde lifted up

her eyes to heaven; shed tears upon hearing of the death of the good

Anabaptist and of Pangloss; after which she spoke as follows to Candide,

who did not lose a word and devoured her with his eyes.

VIII