The Baron knew no end of embracing
Candide, be called him his brother, his deliverer.
"Perhaps," said he, "my dear Candide, we shall be fortunate enough
to enter the town, sword in hand, and recover my sister Cunegund."
"Ah! that would crown my wishes," replied Candide; "for I intended
to marry her; and I hope I shall still be able to effect it."
"Insolent fellow!" cried the Baron. "You! you have the impudence
to marry my sister, who bears seventy-two quarterings! Really, I think
you have an insufferable degree of assurance to dare so much as to
mention such an audacious design to me."
Candide, thunderstruck at the oddness of this speech, answered:
"Reverend Father, all the quarterings in the world are of no
signification. I have delivered your sister from a Jew and an
Inquisitor; she is under many obligations to me, and she is resolved
to give me her hand. My master, Pangloss, always told me that
mankind are by nature equal. Therefore, you may depend upon it that
I will marry your sister."
"We shall see to that, villain!" said the Jesuit, Baron of
Thunder-ten-tronckh, and struck him across the face with the flat side
of his sword. Candide in an instant drew his rapier and plunged it
up to the hilt in the Jesuit's body; but in pulling it out reeking
hot, he burst into tears.
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