Who could it be that has robbed me of my moidores and jewels?”
exclaimed Miss Cunegund, all bathed in tears. “How shall we live? What
shall we do? Where shall I find Inquisitors and Jews who can give me
more?”

“Alas!” said the old woman, “I have a shrewd suspicion of a reverend
Franciscan father, who lay last night in the same inn with us at
Badajoz. God forbid I should condemn any one wrongfully, but he came
into our room twice, and he set off in the morning long before us.”

“Alas!” said Candide, “Pangloss has often demonstrated to me that
the goods of this world are common to all men, and that everyone has
an equal right to the enjoyment of them; but, not withstanding,
according to these principles, the Franciscan ought to have left us
enough to carry us to the end of our journey. Have you nothing at
all left, my dear Miss Cunegund?”

“Not a maravedi,” replied she.

“What is to be done then?” said Candide.

“Sell one of the horses,” replied the old woman. “I will get up
behind Miss Cunegund, though I have only one buttock to ride on, and
we shall reach Cadiz.”

In the same inn there was a Benedictine friar, who bought the
horse very cheap. Candide, Cunegund, and the old woman, after
passing through Lucina, Chellas, and Letrixa, arrived at length at
Cadiz. A fleet was then getting ready, and troops were assembling in
order to induce the reverend fathers, Jesuits of Paraguay, who were
accused of having excited one of the Indian tribes in the neighborhood
of the town of the Holy Sacrament, to revolt against the Kings of
Spain and Portugal.

Candide, having been in the Bulgarian service, performed the
military exercise of that nation before the general of this little
army with so intrepid an air, and with such agility and expedition,
that he received the command of a company of foot. Being now made a
captain, he embarked with Miss Cunegund, the old woman, two valets,
and the two Andalusian horses, which had belonged to the Grand
Inquisitor of Portugal.

During their voyage they amused themselves with many profound
reasonings on poor Pangloss’s philosophy.

“We are now going into another world, and surely it must be there
that everything is for the best; for I must confess that we have had
some little reason to complain of what passes in ours, both as to
the physical and moral part. Though I have a sincere love for you,”
said Miss Cunegund, “yet I still shudder at the reflection of what I
have seen and experienced.”

“All will be well,” replied Candide, “the sea of this new world is
already better than our European seas: it is smoother, and the winds
blow more regularly.”

“God grant it,” said Cunegund, “but I have met with such terrible
treatment in this world that I have almost lost all hopes of a
better one.”

“What murmuring and complaining is here indeed!” cried the old
woman. “If you had suffered half what I have, there might be some
reason for it.”

Miss Cunegund could scarce refrain from laughing at the good old
woman, and thought it droll enough to pretend to a greater share of
misfortunes than her own.

“Alas! my good dame,” said she, “unless you had been ravished by two
Bulgarians, had received two deep wounds in your belly, had seen two
of your own castles demolished, had lost two fathers, and two mothers,
and seen both of them barbarously murdered before your eyes, and to
sum up all, had two lovers whipped at an auto-da-fe, I cannot see
how you could be more unfortunate than I. Add to this, though born a
baroness, and bearing seventy-two quarterings, I have been reduced
to the station of a cook-wench.”

“Miss,” replied the old woman, “you do not know my family as yet;
but if I were to show you my posteriors, you would not talk in this
manner, but suspend your judgment.” This speech raised a high
curiosity in Candide and Cunegund; and the old woman continued as
follows.