Chapter XIII


How Candide Was Forced Away from his Fair Cunegonde and the Old Woman

THE BEAUTIFUL CUNEGONDE having heard the old woman's history, paid her all the civilities due to a person of her rank and merit. She likewise accepted her proposal, and engaged all the passengers, one after the other, to relate their adventures; and then both she and Candide allowed that the old woman was in the right.

“It is a great pity,” said Candide, “that the sage Pangloss was hanged contrary to custom at an auto-da-fé; he would tell us most amazing things in regard to the physical and moral evils that overspread earth and sea, and I should be able, with due respect, to make a few objections.”

While each passenger was recounting his story, the ship made her way. They landed at Buenos Ayres. Cunegonde, Captain Candide, and the old woman, waited on the Governor, Don Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza. This nobleman had a stateliness becoming a person who bore so many names. He spoke to men with so noble a disdain, carried his nose so loftily, raised his voice so unmercifully, assumed so imperious an air, and stalked with such intolerable pride, that those who saluted him were strongly inclined to give him a good drubbing. Cunegonde appeared to him the most beautiful he had ever met. The first thing he did was to ask whether she was not the captain's wife. The manner in which he asked the question alarmed Candide; he dared not say she was his wife, because indeed she was not; neither dared he say she was his sister, because it was not so; and although this obliging lie had been formerly much in favor among the ancients, and although it could be useful to the moderns, his soul was too pure to betray the truth.

“Miss Cunegonde,” said he, "is to do me the honor to marry me, and we beseech your excellency to deign to sanction our marriage.”

Don Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza, turning up his moustachios, smiled mockingly, and ordered Captain Candide to go and review his company. Candide obeyed, and the Governor remained alone with Miss Cunegonde. He declared his passion, protesting he would marry her the next day in the face of the church, or otherwise, just as should be agreeable to herself. Cunegonde asked a quarter of an hour to consider of it, to consult the old woman, and to take her resolution.

The old woman spoke thus to Cunegonde:

“Miss, you have seventy-two quarterings, and not a farthing; it is now in your power to be wife to the greatest lord in South America, who has very beautiful moustachios. Is it for you to pique yourself upon inviolable fidelity? You have been ravished by Bulgarians; a Jew and an Inquisitor have enjoyed your favors. Misfortune gives sufficient excuse. I own, that if I were in your place, I should have no scruple in marrying the Governor and in making the fortune of Captain Candide.”

While the old woman spoke with all the prudence which age and experience gave, a small ship entered the port on board of which were an Alcalde and his alguazils, and this was what had happened.

As the old woman had shrewdly guessed, it was a Grey Friar who stole Cunegonde's money and jewels in the town of Badajos, when she and Candide were escaping. The Friar wanted to sell some of the diamonds to a jeweler; the jeweler knew them to be the Grand Inquisitor's. The Friar before he was hanged confessed he had stolen them. He described the persons, and the route they had taken. The flight of Cunegonde and Candide was already known. They were traced to Cadiz. A vessel was immediately sent in pursuit of them. The vessel was already in the port of Buenos Ayres. The report spread that the Alcalde was going to land, and that he was in pursuit of the murderers of my lord the Grand Inquisitor. The prudent old woman saw at once what was to be done.

“You cannot run away,” said she to Cunegonde, “and you have nothing to fear, for it was not you that killed my lord; besides the Governor who loves you will not suffer you to be ill-treated; therefore stay.”

She then ran immediately to Candide.

“Fly,” said she, "or in an hour you will be burned.”

There was not a moment to lose; but how could he part from Cunegonde, and where could he flee for shelter?


Footnotes

  1. An Alcalde is a mayor or magistrate of a small town, particularly one in Spain or Portugal. Alguazils are officers or constables who, in this case, work for the Alcalde as soldiers and bodyguards to help him in his mission of finding the Grand Inquisitor's murderer, Candide.

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor
  2. To "pique" means to anger or irritate, or to incite resentment (typically in another). In this case, it means that by breaking her inviolable vow to Candide and remaining faithful, she risks ruining their relationship and creating enmity between them by turning down a marriage proposal from a man who can save her from a life of poverty and misery.

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor
  3. Notice that Cunegonde doesn't ask for enough time to also consult Candide, who's out reviewing the Governor's men and won't return until later that day. This suggests that, though she love Candide, she is all too willing to forsake him in order to be rich again (further proof that she is a superficial, if naive, character).

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor
  4. To "drub" means to beat or to thrash, particularly with a weapon like a cudgel. Voltaire makes this Governor as insufferable as possible so that the reader, encountering him here, will align themselves with his enemies and resist any relationship he might have with the three companions (in particular Cunegonde).

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor
  5. Voltaire uses this comically long name to make fun of Spaniards and their descendants, who often have uncommonly long names, such as Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso, the birth name of famed Spanish painter Pablo Picasso.

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor
  6. In this passage, Candide longs for a different kind of conversation (a philosophical discussion), which he believes his female companions cannot provide. On the one hand, this is an expression of boredom, which is to be expected on a long journey. On the other, this displays a desire to show off and prove himself more intelligent than the women, who don't share his philosophy.

    — Sinead, Owl Eyes Contributor