Candide (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

While they were disputing on this important subject, and still expecting Miss Cunégonde, Candide noticed a young Theatin ^bp friar in St. Mark’s place, with a girl under his arm. The Theatin looked fresh-colored, plump and vigorous; his eyes sparkled; his air and gait were bold and lofty. The girl was very pretty, and was singing a song; and every now and then gave her Theatin an amorous ogle, and wantonly pinched his ruddy cheeks. “You will at least admit,” said Candide to Martin, “that these two are happy. So far I have met with none but unfortunate people in the whole habitable globe, except in El Dorado; but as to this couple, I would venture to lay a wager that they are happy.” “I bet they are not!” said Martin. “Well, we just have to ask them to dine with us,” said Candide, “and you will see whether I am mistaken or not.”

He approached them, and with great politeness invited them to his inn to eat some macaroni, with Lombard partridges and caviare, and to drink a bottle of Montepulciano, Lacryma Christi, Cyprus and Samos wine. The girl blushed; the Theatin accepted the invitation, and she followed him, eyeing Candide every now and then with a mixture of surprise and confusion, while the tears stole down her cheeks. No sooner did she enter his apartment than she cried out: “Mr. Candide, have you quite forgotten your Pacquette? Do you not recognize her again?” Candide, who had not looked carefully at her before, being wholly preoccupied with the thoughts of his dear Cunégonde. “Ah! is it you, child? Was it you that reduced Doctor Pangloss to that fine condition I saw him in?”

“Alas, sir,” answered Pacquette, “it was indeed. I see that you already know everything; and I have been informed of all the misfortunes that happened to the whole family of my lady baroness and the fair Cunégonde. But I can safely swear to you that my fate was no less unhappy; I was innocence itself when you saw me last. A Cordelier, who was my confessor, easily misled me; the consequences proved terrible. I was obliged to leave the castle some time after the baron kicked you out of there; and if a famous surgeon had not taken pity on me, I would have been a dead woman. Gratitude obliged me to live with him some time as a companion. His wife, who was jealous to a point of rage, beat me mercilessly every day. Oh! she was a perfect fury. The doctor himself was the ugliest of all mortals, and I the most wretched creature existing, to be continually beaten for a man I did not love. You know, sir, how dangerous it was for an ill-natured woman to be married to a physician. Incensed at the behaviour of his wife, one day he gave her so potent a remedy for a slight cold she had caught that she died in less than two hours in most dreadful convulsions. Her relations prosecuted the husband, who had to flee, and I was sent to prison. My innocence would not have saved me, if I had not been rather attractive. The judge set me free on condition that he should become the doctor’s successor. However, I was soon replaced by a rival, dismissed without a farthing, and obliged to continue the abominable trade which you men think so pleasing, but which to us unhappy creatures is the most dreadful of all sufferings. Finally I came to work this business in Venice. Ah! sir! if you could know what it is like to be with every man—with old tradesmen, with counsellors, with monks, watermen, and abbés; to be exposed to all their insolence and abuse; to be reduced to borrowing a skirt only in order for it to be lifted by some disgusting man; to be robbed by one man of what was gained from another; to be subject to the extortions of civil magistrates; and to have for ever before one’s eyes the prospect of old age, a hospital, or a dunghill, you would conclude that I am one of the most unhappy wretches breathing.”

Friar Giroflée was all this time in the parlour refreshing himself with a glass or two of wine till dinner was ready. “But,” said Candide to Pacquette, “you looked so happy and content when I met you, you sang and caressed the Theatin with so much fondness, that I absolutely thought you as happy as you say you are now miserable.” “Ah, dear sir,” said Pacquette, “this is one of the miseries of the trade; yesterday I was stripped and beaten by an officer, yet today I must appear in good humor in order to please a friar.”

Candide was convinced, and acknowledged that Martin was right. They sat down to dinner with Pacquette and the Theatin; the meal was very agreeable, and towards the end they began to speak freely among themselves. “Father,” said Candide to the friar, “you seem to me to enjoy a state of happiness that even kings might envy; joy and health are painted on your countenance. You have a beautiful friend to divert you; and you seem to be perfectly well contented with your condition as a Theatin.”

“Faith, sir,” said Friar Giroflée, “I wish with all my soul that all the Theatins were at the bottom of the sea. I have been tempted a thousand times to set fire to the convent and go and turn Turk. My parents forced me at the age of fifteen to put on this detestable robe, only to increase the fortune of an elder brother of mine, may God confound him! Jealousy, discord and fury reside in our convent. It is true I have often preached paltry sermons which earned me a little money, part of which the prior robs me of, and the remainder helps to buy my joys; but at night when I go to my convent, I am ready to dash my brains against the walls of the dormitory; and this is the case with all the rest of our fraternity.”

Martin, turning towards Candide with his usual coolness, said, “Well, what think you now? Have I won the wager entirely?” Candide gave two thousand piastres to Pacquette and a thousand to Friar Giroflée, saying, “I will answer that this will make them happy.” “I don’t believe so,” said Martin; “perhaps this money will only make them wretched.” “Be that as it may,” said Candide, “one thing comforts me; I see that one often meets with those whom we never expected to see again; so that perhaps, as I have found my red sheep and Pacquette, I may be lucky enough to find Miss Cunégonde also.” “I hope,” said Martin, “that one day she will make you happy, but I doubt it very much.” “You are very hard in your beliefs,” said Candide. “It is because,” said Martin, “I have seen the world.”