Candide had brought such a valet with him from Cadiz, as one often meets with on the coasts of Spain and in the American colonies. He was a quarter Spaniard, born of a mongrel in Tucuman; he had been singing-boy, sacristan, sailor, monk, pedlar, soldier, and lackey. His name was Cacambo, and he loved his master, because his master was a very good man. He quickly saddled the two Andalusian horses.
“Come, master, let us follow the old woman’s advice; let us start, and run without looking behind us.”
Candide shed tears.
“Oh! my dear Cunegonde! must I leave you just at a time when the Governor was going to sanction our nuptials? Cunegonde, brought to such a distance what will become of you?”
“She will do as well as she can,” said Cacambo; “the women are never at a loss, God provides for them, let us run.”
“Whither art thou carrying me? Where shall we go? What shall we do without Cunegonde?” said Candide.
“By St. James of Compostella,” said Cacambo, “you were going to fight against the Jesuits; let us go to fight for them; I know the road well, I’ll conduct you to their kingdom, where they will be charmed to have a captain that understands the Bulgarian exercise. You’ll make a prodigious fortune; if we cannot find our account in one world we shall in another. It is a great pleasure to see and do new things.”
“You have before been in Paraguay, then?” said Candide.
“Ay, sure,” answered Cacambo, “I was servant in the College of the Assumption, and am acquainted with the government of the good Fathers as well as I am with the streets of Cadiz. It is an admirable government. The kingdom is upwards of three hundred leagues in diameter, and divided into thirty provinces; there the Fathers possess all, and the people nothing; it is a masterpiece of reason and justice. For my part I see nothing so divine as the Fathers who here make war upon the kings of Spain and Portugal, and in Europe confess those kings; who here kill Spaniards, and in Madrid send them to heaven; this delights me, let us push forward. You are going to be the happiest of mortals. What pleasure will it be to those Fathers to hear that a captain who knows the Bulgarian exercise has come to them!”
“And where is the reverend Father Provincial?” said Cacambo.
“He is upon the parade just after celebrating mass,” answered the sergeant, “and you cannot kiss his spurs till three hours hence.”
“However,” said Cacambo, “the captain is not a Spaniard, but a German, he is ready to perish with hunger as well as myself; cannot we have something for breakfast, while we wait for his reverence?”
The sergeant went immediately to acquaint the Commandant with what he had heard.
“God be praised!” said the reverend Commandant, “since he is a German, I may speak to him; take him to my arbour.”
Candide first kissed the hem of the Commandant’s robe, then they sat down to table.
“You are, then, a German?” said the Jesuit to him in that language.
“Yes, reverend Father,” answered Candide.
As they pronounced these words they looked at each other with great amazement, and with such an emotion as they could not conceal.
“And from what part of Germany do you come?” said the Jesuit.
“I am from the dirty province of Westphalia,” answered Candide; “I was born in the Castle of Thunder-ten-Tronckh.”
“Oh! Heavens! is it possible?” cried the Commandant.
“What a miracle!” cried Candide.
“Is it really you?” said the Commandant.
“It is not possible!” said Candide.
They drew back; they embraced; they shed rivulets of tears.
“You will be more surprised, more affected, and transported,” said Candide, “when I tell you that Cunegonde, your sister, whom you believe to have been ripped open, is in perfect health.”
“In your neighbourhood, with the Governor of Buenos Ayres; and I was going to fight against you.”