Candide, from natural sympathy, looked at these two
slaves more attentively than at any of the rest, and drew near them
with an eye of pity. Their features, though greatly disfigured,
appeared to him to bear a strong resemblance with those of Pangloss
and the unhappy Baron Jesuit, Miss Cunegund's brother. This idea
affected him with grief and compassion: he examined them more
attentively than before.
"In troth," said he, turning to Martin, "if I had not seen my master
Pangloss fairly hanged, and had not myself been unlucky enough to
run the Baron through the body, I should absolutely think those two
rowers were the men."
No sooner had Candide uttered the names of the Baron and Pangloss,
than the two slaves gave a great cry, ceased rowing, and let fall
their oars out of their hands. The master of the vessel, seeing
this, ran up to them, and redoubled the discipline of the lash.
"Hold, hold," cried Candide, "I will give you what money you shall
ask for these two persons."
"Good heavens! it is Candide," said one of the men.
"Candide!" cried the other.
"Do I dream," said Candide, "or am I awake? Am I actually on board
this galley? Is this My Lord the Baron, whom I killed? and that my
master Pangloss, whom I saw hanged before my face?"
"It is I! it is I!" cried they both together.
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