Candide, divided between compassion and horror, but giving way to
the former, bestowed on this shocking figure the two florins which the
honest Anabaptist, James, had just before given to him. The specter
looked at him very earnestly, shed tears and threw his arms about
his neck. Candide started back aghast.
"Alas!" said the one wretch to the other, "don't you know dear
Pangloss?"
"What do I hear? Is it you, my dear master! you I behold in this
piteous plight? What dreadful misfortune has befallen you? What has
made you leave the most magnificent and delightful of all castles?
What has become of Miss Cunegund, the mirror of young ladies, and
Nature's masterpiece?"
"Oh, Lord!" cried Pangloss, "I am so weak I cannot stand," upon
which Candide instantly led him to the Anabaptist's stable, and
procured him something to eat.
As soon as Pangloss had a little refreshed himself, Candide began to
repeat his inquiries concerning Miss Cunegund.
"She is dead," replied the other.
"Dead!" cried Candide, and immediately fainted away; his friend
restored him by the help of a little bad vinegar, which he found by
chance in the stable.
Candide opened his eyes, and again repeated: "Dead! is Miss Cunegund
dead? Ah, where is the best of worlds now? But of what illness did she
die? Was it of grief on seeing her father kick me out of his
magnificent castle?"
"No," replied Pangloss, "her body was ripped open by the Bulgarian
soldiers, after they had subjected her to as much cruelty as a
damsel could survive; they knocked the Baron, her father, on the
head for attempting to defend her; My Lady, her mother, was cut in
pieces; my poor pupil was served just in the same manner as his
sister; and as for the castle, they have not left one stone upon
another; they have destroyed all the ducks, and sheep, the barns,
and the trees; but we have had our revenge, for the Abares have done
the very same thing in a neighboring barony, which belonged to a
Bulgarian lord.
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