prompt:
Chapter: "I was in bed and fast asleep when it pleased God to send the Bulgarians
to our delightful castle of Thunder-ten-Tronckh; they slew my father and
brother, and cut my mother in pieces. A tall Bulgarian, six feet high,
perceiving that I had fainted away at this sight, began to ravish me;
this made me recover; I regained my senses, I cried, I struggled, I bit,
I scratched, I wanted to tear out the tall Bulgarian's eyes--not knowing
that what happened at my father's house was the usual practice of war.
The brute gave me a cut in the left side with his hanger, and the mark
is still upon me."

"Ah! I hope I shall see it," said honest Candide.

"You shall," said Cunegonde, "but let us continue."

"Do so," replied Candide.

Thus she resumed the thread of her story:

"A Bulgarian captain came in, saw me all bleeding, and the soldier not
in the least disconcerted. The captain flew into a passion at the
disrespectful behaviour of the brute, and slew him on my body. He
ordered my wounds to be dressed, and took me to his quarters as a
prisoner of war. I washed the few shirts that he had, I did his cooking;
he thought me very pretty--he avowed it; on the other hand, I must own
he had a good shape, and a soft and white skin; but he had little or no
mind or philosophy, and you might see plainly that he had never been
instructed by Doctor Pangloss. In three months time, having lost all his
money, and being grown tired of my company, he sold me to a Jew, named
Don Issachar, who traded to Holland and Portugal, and had a strong
passion for women. This Jew was much attached to my person, but could
not triumph over it; I resisted him better than the Bulgarian soldier. A
modest woman may be ravished once, but her virtue is strengthened by it.
In order to render me more tractable, he brought me to this country
house. Hitherto I had imagined that nothing could equal the beauty of
Thunder-ten-Tronckh Castle; but I found I was mistaken.

"The Grand Inquisitor, seeing me one day at Mass, stared long at me, and
sent to tell me that he wished to speak on private matters. I was
conducted to his palace, where I acquainted him with the history of my
family, and he represented to me how much it was beneath my rank to
belong to an Israelite. A proposal was then made to Don Issachar that he
should resign me to my lord. Don Issachar, being the court banker, and a
man of credit, would hear nothing of it. The Inquisitor threatened him
with an _auto-da-fe_. At last my Jew, intimidated, concluded a bargain,
by which the house and myself should belong to both in common; the Jew
should have for himself Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, and the
Inquisitor should have the rest of the week. It is now six months since
this agreement was made. Quarrels have not been wanting, for they could
not decide whether the night from Saturday to Sunday belonged to the old
law or to the new. For my part, I have so far held out against both, and
I verily believe that this is the reason why I am still beloved.

"At length, to avert the scourge of earthquakes, and to intimidate Don
Issachar, my Lord Inquisitor was pleased to celebrate an _auto-da-fe_.
He did me the honour to invite me to the ceremony. I had a very good
seat, and the ladies were served with refreshments between Mass and the
execution. I was in truth seized with horror at the burning of those two
Jews, and of the honest Biscayner who had married his godmother; but
what was my surprise, my fright, my trouble, when I saw in a
_san-benito_ and mitre a figure which resembled that of Pangloss! I
rubbed my eyes, I looked at him attentively, I saw him hung; I fainted.
Scarcely had I recovered my senses than I saw you stripped, stark naked,
and this was the height of my horror, consternation, grief, and despair.
I tell you, truthfully, that your skin is yet whiter and of a more
perfect colour than that of my Bulgarian captain. This spectacle
redoubled all the feelings which overwhelmed and devoured me. I screamed
out, and would have said, 'Stop, barbarians!' but my voice failed me,
and my cries would have been useless after you had been severely
whipped. How is it possible, said I, that the beloved Candide and the
wise Pangloss should both be at Lisbon, the one to receive a hundred
lashes, and the other to be hanged by the Grand Inquisitor, of whom I am
the well-beloved? Pangloss most cruelly deceived me when he said that
everything in the world is for the best.

"Agitated, lost, sometimes beside myself, and sometimes ready to die of
weakness, my mind was filled with the massacre of my father, mother, and
brother, with the insolence of the ugly Bulgarian soldier, with the stab
that he gave me, with my servitude under the Bulgarian captain, with my
hideous Don Issachar, with my abominable Inquisitor, with the execution
of Doctor Pangloss, with the grand Miserere to which they whipped you,
and especially with the kiss I gave you behind the screen the day that I
had last seen you. I praised God for bringing you back to me after so
many trials, and I charged my old woman to take care of you, and to
conduct you hither as soon as possible. She has executed her commission
perfectly well; I have tasted the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you
again, of hearing you, of speaking with you. But you must be hungry, for
myself, I am famished; let us have supper."

They both sat down to table, and, when supper was over, they placed
themselves once more on the sofa; where they were when Signor Don
Issachar arrived. It was the Jewish Sabbath, and Issachar had come to
enjoy his rights, and to explain his tender love.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Chapter 8 is Cunegonde's story-the account of her rape and her family's murder. Becoming the prisoner-of-war of a certain, "attractive" Bulgar captain, she lives in a sort of quasi-bondage for three months, at which time he trades her to a wealthy Jew named Don Issachar. When the Inquisitor sees Cunegonde at Mass, he immediately threatens the Jew, finally forcing him to agree to turn over his house and Cunegonde, his sex-slave, one-half of the week. Yet though Cunegonde's servile status is clear, she boasts that she successfully held both of them off. Invited to the auto-da-fe as a spectator, Cunegonde soon notices the tutor Pangloss and her lover, Candide. Seeing the cruelty shown them, she also begins to lose faith in the philosophy of optimism. Cunegonde quickly instructs her maid, the old woman, to fetch Candide, which she does. At the end of the chapter, Don Issachar, the part-time owner of the estate, enters to "assert his rights and express his tender passion


prompt:
Chapter: This Issachar was the most choleric Hebrew that had ever been seen in
Israel since the Captivity in Babylon.

"What!" said he, "thou bitch of a Galilean, was not the Inquisitor
enough for thee? Must this rascal also share with me?"

In saying this he drew a long poniard which he always carried about him;
and not imagining that his adversary had any arms he threw himself upon
Candide: but our honest Westphalian had received a handsome sword from
the old woman along with the suit of clothes. He drew his rapier,
despite his gentleness, and laid the Israelite stone dead upon the
cushions at Cunegonde's feet.

"Holy Virgin!" cried she, "what will become of us? A man killed in my
apartment! If the officers of justice come, we are lost!"

"Had not Pangloss been hanged," said Candide, "he would give us good
counsel in this emergency, for he was a profound philosopher. Failing
him let us consult the old woman."

She was very prudent and commenced to give her opinion when suddenly
another little door opened. It was an hour after midnight, it was the
beginning of Sunday. This day belonged to my lord the Inquisitor. He
entered, and saw the whipped Candide, sword in hand, a dead man upon the
floor, Cunegonde aghast, and the old woman giving counsel.

At this moment, the following is what passed in the soul of Candide, and
how he reasoned:

If this holy man call in assistance, he will surely have me burnt; and
Cunegonde will perhaps be served in the same manner; he was the cause of
my being cruelly whipped; he is my rival; and, as I have now begun to
kill, I will kill away, for there is no time to hesitate. This reasoning
was clear and instantaneous; so that without giving time to the
Inquisitor to recover from his surprise, he pierced him through and
through, and cast him beside the Jew.

"Yet again!" said Cunegonde, "now there is no mercy for us, we are
excommunicated, our last hour has come. How could you do it? you,
naturally so gentle, to slay a Jew and a prelate in two minutes!"

"My beautiful young lady," responded Candide, "when one is a lover,
jealous and whipped by the Inquisition, one stops at nothing."

The old woman then put in her word, saying:

"There are three Andalusian horses in the stable with bridles and
saddles, let the brave Candide get them ready; madame has money, jewels;
let us therefore mount quickly on horseback, though I can sit only on
one buttock; let us set out for Cadiz, it is the finest weather in the
world, and there is great pleasure in travelling in the cool of the
night."

Immediately Candide saddled the three horses, and Cunegonde, the old
woman and he, travelled thirty miles at a stretch. While they were
journeying, the Holy Brotherhood entered the house; my lord the
Inquisitor was interred in a handsome church, and Issachar's body was
thrown upon a dunghill.

Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman, had now reached the little town
of Avacena in the midst of the mountains of the Sierra Morena, and were
speaking as follows in a public inn.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Seeing what he believes to be another competitor for Cunegonde's love, the Jew attacks Candide, forcing the pupil of optimism to kill him with a sword. After Issachar's death, Candide wishes that Pangloss were there to give him advice, but settles for the opinion of the old woman in his stead. Before she can give her counsel, however, the Grand Inquisitor enters for his nightly visit, forcing Candide to kill him as well. Quickly the old woman details the plan of their escape-that they will take what gold and diamonds they can lay their hands on, and then they should flee the estate on the backs of three horses. When the Holy Brotherhood, an organization with both Church and State powers, enters the household to bury their holy Inquisitor and fling Issachar onto a dunghill, the three fugitives are gone. In this chapter, Voltaire obviously continues his onslaught of criticism for the Catholic Church, showing the Inquisitor to be nothing more than a worldly womanizer. He also stereotypes Don Issachar, portraying him as a greedy, selfish money-grubber who hopes to buy himself earthly happiness


prompt:
Chapter: "Who was it that robbed me of my money and jewels?" said Cunegonde, all
bathed in tears. "How shall we live? What shall we do? Where find
Inquisitors or Jews who will give me more?"

"Alas!" said the old woman, "I have a shrewd suspicion of a reverend
Grey Friar, who stayed last night in the same inn with us at Badajos.
God preserve me from judging rashly, but he came into our room twice,
and he set out upon his journey long before us."

"Alas!" said Candide, "dear Pangloss has often demonstrated to me that
the goods of this world are common to all men, and that each has an
equal right to them. But according to these principles the Grey Friar
ought to have left us enough to carry us through our journey. Have you
nothing at all left, my dear Cunegonde?"

"Not a farthing," said she.

"What then must we do?" said Candide.

"Sell one of the horses," replied the old woman. "I will ride behind
Miss Cunegonde, though I can hold myself only on one buttock, and we
shall reach Cadiz."

In the same inn there was a Benedictine prior who bought the horse for a
cheap price. Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman, having passed
through Lucena, Chillas, and Lebrixa, arrived at length at Cadiz. A
fleet was there getting ready, and troops assembling to bring to reason
the reverend Jesuit Fathers of Paraguay, accused of having made one of
the native tribes in the neighborhood of San Sacrament revolt against
the Kings of Spain and Portugal. Candide having been in the Bulgarian
service, performed the military exercise before the general of this
little army with so graceful an address, with so intrepid an air, and
with such agility and expedition, that he was given the command of a
company of foot. Now, he was a captain! He set sail with Miss Cunegonde,
the old woman, two valets, and the two Andalusian horses, which had
belonged to the grand Inquisitor of Portugal.

During their voyage they reasoned a good deal on the philosophy of poor
Pangloss.

"We are going into another world," said Candide; "and surely it must be
there that all is for the best. For I must confess there is reason to
complain a little of what passeth in our world in regard to both
natural and moral philosophy."

"I love you with all my heart," said Cunegonde; "but my soul is still
full of fright at that which I have seen and experienced."

"All will be well," replied Candide; "the sea of this new world is
already better than our European sea; it is calmer, the winds more
regular. It is certainly the New World which is the best of all possible
worlds."

"God grant it," said Cunegonde; "but I have been so horribly unhappy
there that my heart is almost closed to hope."

"You complain," said the old woman; "alas! you have not known such
misfortunes as mine."

Cunegonde almost broke out laughing, finding the good woman very
amusing, for pretending to have been as unfortunate as she.

"Alas!" said Cunegonde, "my good mother, unless you have been ravished
by two Bulgarians, have received two deep wounds in your belly, have had
two castles demolished, have had two mothers cut to pieces before your
eyes, and two of your lovers whipped at an _auto-da-fe_, I do not
conceive how you could be more unfortunate than I. Add that I was born a
baroness of seventy-two quarterings--and have been a cook!"

"Miss," replied the old woman, "you do not know my birth; and were I to
show you my backside, you would not talk in that manner, but would
suspend your judgment."

This speech having raised extreme curiosity in the minds of Cunegonde
and Candide, the old woman spoke to them as follows.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Having left an inn where they had stayed the day before, the trio soon realizes that a Franciscan friar, who was also at the inn, must have stolen their gold and diamonds. To overcome the loss, the old woman suggests, and the others agree, that they should sell one of the horses. Eventually they reach Cadiz, a city on the Atlantic coast. When Candide demonstrates the sign of the Bulgar army, he is made a captain of sorts as he, Cunegonde and the old woman begin their journey to South America. Candide, obviously still influenced by the optimistic philosophy of his youth, comes to rest on the idea that the New World will be the "best of all worlds. Yet soon, both Candide and Cunegonde realize that the trials and tribulations of their own lives are not unique or unusual at all when the old woman tells them that their horrors pale in comparison to hers. She then launches into a lengthy story of her life's misfortunes, making continued allusions to a missing portion of her rear end


prompt:
Chapter: "I had not always bleared eyes and red eyelids; neither did my nose
always touch my chin; nor was I always a servant. I am the daughter of
Pope Urban X,[10] and of the Princess of Palestrina. Until the age of
fourteen I was brought up in a palace, to which all the castles of your
German barons would scarcely have served for stables; and one of my
robes was worth more than all the magnificence of Westphalia. As I grew
up I improved in beauty, wit, and every graceful accomplishment, in the
midst of pleasures, hopes, and respectful homage. Already I inspired
love. My throat was formed, and such a throat! white, firm, and shaped
like that of the Venus of Medici; and what eyes! what eyelids! what
black eyebrows! such flames darted from my dark pupils that they
eclipsed the scintillation of the stars--as I was told by the poets in
our part of the world. My waiting women, when dressing and undressing
me, used to fall into an ecstasy, whether they viewed me before or
behind; how glad would the gentlemen have been to perform that office
for them!

"I was affianced to the most excellent Prince of Massa Carara. Such a
prince! as handsome as myself, sweet-tempered, agreeable, brilliantly
witty, and sparkling with love. I loved him as one loves for the first
time--with idolatry, with transport. The nuptials were prepared. There
was surprising pomp and magnificence; there were _fetes_, carousals,
continual _opera bouffe_; and all Italy composed sonnets in my praise,
though not one of them was passable. I was just upon the point of
reaching the summit of bliss, when an old marchioness who had been
mistress to the Prince, my husband, invited him to drink chocolate with
her. He died in less than two hours of most terrible convulsions. But
this is only a bagatelle. My mother, in despair, and scarcely less
afflicted than myself, determined to absent herself for some time from
so fatal a place. She had a very fine estate in the neighbourhood of
Gaeta. We embarked on board a galley of the country which was gilded
like the great altar of St. Peter's at Rome. A Sallee corsair swooped
down and boarded us. Our men defended themselves like the Pope's
soldiers; they flung themselves upon their knees, and threw down their
arms, begging of the corsair an absolution _in articulo mortis_.

"Instantly they were stripped as bare as monkeys; my mother, our maids
of honour, and myself were all served in the same manner. It is amazing
with what expedition those gentry undress people. But what surprised me
most was, that they thrust their fingers into the part of our bodies
which the generality of women suffer no other instrument but--pipes to
enter. It appeared to me a very strange kind of ceremony; but thus one
judges of things when one has not seen the world. I afterwards learnt
that it was to try whether we had concealed any diamonds. This is the
practice established from time immemorial, among civilised nations that
scour the seas. I was informed that the very religious Knights of Malta
never fail to make this search when they take any Turkish prisoners of
either sex. It is a law of nations from which they never deviate.

"I need not tell _you_ how great a hardship it was for a young princess
and her mother to be made slaves and carried to Morocco. You may easily
imagine all we had to suffer on board the pirate vessel. My mother was
still very handsome; our maids of honour, and even our waiting women,
had more charms than are to be found in all Africa. As for myself, I was
ravishing, was exquisite, grace itself, and I was a virgin! I did not
remain so long; this flower, which had been reserved for the handsome
Prince of Massa Carara, was plucked by the corsair captain. He was an
abominable negro, and yet believed that he did me a great deal of
honour. Certainly the Princess of Palestrina and myself must have been
very strong to go through all that we experienced until our arrival at
Morocco. But let us pass on; these are such common things as not to be
worth mentioning.

"Morocco swam in blood when we arrived. Fifty sons of the Emperor
Muley-Ismael[11] had each their adherents; this produced fifty civil
wars, of blacks against blacks, and blacks against tawnies, and tawnies
against tawnies, and mulattoes against mulattoes. In short it was a
continual carnage throughout the empire.

"No sooner were we landed, than the blacks of a contrary faction to that
of my captain attempted to rob him of his booty. Next to jewels and gold
we were the most valuable things he had. I was witness to such a battle
as you have never seen in your European climates. The northern nations
have not that heat in their blood, nor that raging lust for women, so
common in Africa. It seems that you Europeans have only milk in your
veins; but it is vitriol, it is fire which runs in those of the
inhabitants of Mount Atlas and the neighbouring countries. They fought
with the fury of the lions, tigers, and serpents of the country, to see
who should have us. A Moor seized my mother by the right arm, while my
captain's lieutenant held her by the left; a Moorish soldier had hold of
her by one leg, and one of our corsairs held her by the other. Thus
almost all our women were drawn in quarters by four men. My captain
concealed me behind him; and with his drawn scimitar cut and slashed
every one that opposed his fury. At length I saw all our Italian women,
and my mother herself, torn, mangled, massacred, by the monsters who
disputed over them. The slaves, my companions, those who had taken them,
soldiers, sailors, blacks, whites, mulattoes, and at last my captain,
all were killed, and I remained dying on a heap of dead. Such scenes as
this were transacted through an extent of three hundred leagues--and yet
they never missed the five prayers a day ordained by Mahomet.

"With difficulty I disengaged myself from such a heap of slaughtered
bodies, and crawled to a large orange tree on the bank of a neighbouring
rivulet, where I fell, oppressed with fright, fatigue, horror, despair,
and hunger. Immediately after, my senses, overpowered, gave themselves
up to sleep, which was yet more swooning than repose. I was in this
state of weakness and insensibility, between life and death, when I
felt myself pressed by something that moved upon my body. I opened my
eyes, and saw a white man, of good countenance, who sighed, and who said
between his teeth: '_O che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni!_'"[12]

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In this chapter the old woman begins to narrate her own life story. First, she explains how she was born as the bastard child of Pope Urban XX. Next, the woman proceeds to boast about her past beauty, as well as about her handsome fiance who suddenly dies just before their wedding. At another time, traveling on a papal ship of sorts, she is attacked by invading pirates who strip everyone aboard, fondling the women in the process. It's interesting to see how Voltaire even uses this woman in his ongoing indictment of the Church. Though the ship is supposedly defended by papal bodyguards, the old woman doesn't seem to have too high of a regard for them, as she explains the incident: "Our soldiers defended themselves as papal troops usually do; falling on their knees and throwing down their arms. Used as a personal slave by the African captain, who takes her virginity, the woman, along with her mother and chambermaids, is taken to Morocco to be sold. When they arrive, they find themselves in the middle of a bloody civil war, which soon claims the lives of everyone except the woman. With much effort, she manages to drag herself to a nearby stream, where she is approached by an Italian man who sees her beauty and groans about having lost his testicles. Voltaire, besides indicting the Roman Catholic Church, also criticizes Islam in this chapter. The woman subtlety notes how the disciples of Muhammad scrupulously took time out of killing each other to say their five daily prayers mandated by their religion. Other themes seen in this chapter center around war and man's cruelty to his fellow man. Voltaire is strongly anti-war, obviously, showing it to be a needless slaughter of human life


prompt:
Chapter: "Astonished and delighted to hear my native language, and no less
surprised at what this man said, I made answer that there were much
greater misfortunes than that of which he complained. I told him in a
few words of the horrors which I had endured, and fainted a second time.
He carried me to a neighbouring house, put me to bed, gave me food,
waited upon me, consoled me, flattered me; he told me that he had never
seen any one so beautiful as I, and that he never so much regretted the
loss of what it was impossible to recover.

"'I was born at Naples,' said he, 'there they geld two or three thousand
children every year; some die of the operation, others acquire a voice
more beautiful than that of women, and others are raised to offices of
state.[13] This operation was performed on me with great success and I
was chapel musician to madam, the Princess of Palestrina.'

"'To my mother!' cried I.

"'Your mother!' cried he, weeping. 'What! can you be that young
princess whom I brought up until the age of six years, and who promised
so early to be as beautiful as you?'

"'It is I, indeed; but my mother lies four hundred yards hence, torn in
quarters, under a heap of dead bodies.'

"I told him all my adventures, and he made me acquainted with his;
telling me that he had been sent to the Emperor of Morocco by a
Christian power, to conclude a treaty with that prince, in consequence
of which he was to be furnished with military stores and ships to help
to demolish the commerce of other Christian Governments.

"'My mission is done,' said this honest eunuch; 'I go to embark for
Ceuta, and will take you to Italy. _Ma che sciagura d'essere senza
coglioni!_'

"I thanked him with tears of commiseration; and instead of taking me to
Italy he conducted me to Algiers, where he sold me to the Dey. Scarcely
was I sold, than the plague which had made the tour of Africa, Asia, and
Europe, broke out with great malignancy in Algiers. You have seen
earthquakes; but pray, miss, have you ever had the plague?"

"Never," answered Cunegonde.

"If you had," said the old woman, "you would acknowledge that it is far
more terrible than an earthquake. It is common in Africa, and I caught
it. Imagine to yourself the distressed situation of the daughter of a
Pope, only fifteen years old, who, in less than three months, had felt
the miseries of poverty and slavery, had been ravished almost every day,
had beheld her mother drawn in quarters, had experienced famine and war,
and was dying of the plague in Algiers. I did not die, however, but my
eunuch, and the Dey, and almost the whole seraglio of Algiers perished.

"As soon as the first fury of this terrible pestilence was over, a sale
was made of the Dey's slaves; I was purchased by a merchant, and carried
to Tunis; this man sold me to another merchant, who sold me again to
another at Tripoli; from Tripoli I was sold to Alexandria, from
Alexandria to Smyrna, and from Smyrna to Constantinople. At length I
became the property of an Aga of the Janissaries, who was soon ordered
away to the defence of Azof, then besieged by the Russians.

"The Aga, who was a very gallant man, took his whole seraglio with him,
and lodged us in a small fort on the Palus Meotides, guarded by two
black eunuchs and twenty soldiers. The Turks killed prodigious numbers
of the Russians, but the latter had their revenge. Azof was destroyed by
fire, the inhabitants put to the sword, neither sex nor age was spared;
until there remained only our little fort, and the enemy wanted to
starve us out. The twenty Janissaries had sworn they would never
surrender. The extremities of famine to which they were reduced, obliged
them to eat our two eunuchs, for fear of violating their oath. And at
the end of a few days they resolved also to devour the women.

"We had a very pious and humane Iman, who preached an excellent sermon,
exhorting them not to kill us all at once.

"'Only cut off a buttock of each of those ladies,' said he, 'and you'll
fare extremely well; if you must go to it again, there will be the same
entertainment a few days hence; heaven will accept of so charitable an
action, and send you relief.'

"He had great eloquence; he persuaded them; we underwent this terrible
operation. The Iman applied the same balsam to us, as he does to
children after circumcision; and we all nearly died.

"Scarcely had the Janissaries finished the repast with which we had
furnished them, than the Russians came in flat-bottomed boats; not a
Janissary escaped. The Russians paid no attention to the condition we
were in. There are French surgeons in all parts of the world; one of
them who was very clever took us under his care--he cured us; and as
long as I live I shall remember that as soon as my wounds were healed he
made proposals to me. He bid us all be of good cheer, telling us that
the like had happened in many sieges, and that it was according to the
laws of war.

"As soon as my companions could walk, they were obliged to set out for
Moscow. I fell to the share of a Boyard who made me his gardener, and
gave me twenty lashes a day. But this nobleman having in two years' time
been broke upon the wheel along with thirty more Boyards for some broils
at court, I profited by that event; I fled. I traversed all Russia; I
was a long time an inn-holder's servant at Riga, the same at Rostock, at
Vismar, at Leipzig, at Cassel, at Utrecht, at Leyden, at the Hague, at
Rotterdam. I waxed old in misery and disgrace, having only one-half of
my posteriors, and always remembering I was a Pope's daughter. A hundred
times I was upon the point of killing myself; but still I loved life.
This ridiculous foible is perhaps one of our most fatal characteristics;
for is there anything more absurd than to wish to carry continually a
burden which one can always throw down? to detest existence and yet to
cling to one's existence? in brief, to caress the serpent which devours
us, till he has eaten our very heart?

"In the different countries which it has been my lot to traverse, and
the numerous inns where I have been servant, I have taken notice of a
vast number of people who held their own existence in abhorrence, and
yet I never knew of more than eight who voluntarily put an end to their
misery; three negroes, four Englishmen, and a German professor named
Robek.[14] I ended by being servant to the Jew, Don Issachar, who placed
me near your presence, my fair lady. I am determined to share your fate,
and have been much more affected with your misfortunes than with my own.
I would never even have spoken to you of my misfortunes, had you not
piqued me a little, and if it were not customary to tell stories on
board a ship in order to pass away the time. In short, Miss Cunegonde, I
have had experience, I know the world; therefore I advise you to divert
yourself, and prevail upon each passenger to tell his story; and if
there be one of them all, that has not cursed his life many a time, that
has not frequently looked upon himself as the unhappiest of mortals, I
give you leave to throw me headforemost into the sea."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The old woman continues her story, as she explains how the kind man cares for her. Soon, however, the man, who at one time worked as a court singer to the Princess of Palestrina-the woman's mother-shows he cannot be trusted. For instead of bringing her back to Italy as he promised, he instead sells her in Algiers. Through this ordeal, she comes down with the plague. Though she survives, she's sold and resold as a slave to countless merchants and traders. At one point her captors, facing starvation, even remove one of her buttocks for food. Finally she ends up as a servant to Don Issachar, the Jew who also buys Cunegonde at a later date. Finishing her story, she concludes with the thesis with which she began: she is the most miserable of human beings


prompt:
Chapter: 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-fe_; 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 durst not say she was his wife, because indeed she was not;
neither durst he say she was his sister, because it was not so; and
although this obliging lie had been formerly much in favour 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 honour 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 favours. 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 jeweller; the jeweller 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 burnt."

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

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: As the story returns to the present, Candide and Cunegonde agree with the woman that she has suffered more than anyone else on the ship. Next, Candide muses to himself, oddly enough, that he wishes Pangloss were present so that he could "politely" object to his master's optimistic philosophy. This brief admission is very significant, for it marks a serious change in Candide's already shifting belief in optimism. After reaching Buenos Aires, Candide and company quickly encounter the governor, Don Fernando d'Ibaraa y Figueoa y Mascarenes y Campourdos y Souza. Voltaire purposefully exaggerates his name in order to satirize the man, and the presumptuousness of the nobility in general. It soon becomes evident that the governor, as expected, is rude and arrogant, as he aggressively pursues Cunegonde's hand in marriage after merely seeing the girl's beauty. Startled by the sudden arrival of the police, hot on Candide's trail, the old woman urges Cunegonde to earn a life of luxury by marrying the governor


prompt:
Chapter: Candide had brought such a valet with him from Cadiz, as one often meets
with on the coasts of Spain and in the American colonies. He was a
quarter Spaniard, born of a mongrel in Tucuman; he had been singing-boy,
sacristan, sailor, monk, pedlar, soldier, and lackey. His name was
Cacambo, and he loved his master, because his master was a very good
man. He quickly saddled the two Andalusian horses.

"Come, master, let us follow the old woman's advice; let us start, and
run without looking behind us."

Candide shed tears.

"Oh! my dear Cunegonde! must I leave you just at a time when the
Governor was going to sanction our nuptials? Cunegonde, brought to such
a distance what will become of you?"

"She will do as well as she can," said Cacambo; "the women are never at
a loss, God provides for them, let us run."

"Whither art thou carrying me? Where shall we go? What shall we do
without Cunegonde?" said Candide.

"By St. James of Compostella," said Cacambo, "you were going to fight
against the Jesuits; let us go to fight for them; I know the road well,
I'll conduct you to their kingdom, where they will be charmed to have a
captain that understands the Bulgarian exercise. You'll make a
prodigious fortune; if we cannot find our account in one world we shall
in another. It is a great pleasure to see and do new things."

"You have before been in Paraguay, then?" said Candide.

"Ay, sure," answered Cacambo, "I was servant in the College of the
Assumption, and am acquainted with the government of the good Fathers as
well as I am with the streets of Cadiz. It is an admirable government.
The kingdom is upwards of three hundred leagues in diameter, and divided
into thirty provinces; there the Fathers possess all, and the people
nothing; it is a masterpiece of reason and justice. For my part I see
nothing so divine as the Fathers who here make war upon the kings of
Spain and Portugal, and in Europe confess those kings; who here kill
Spaniards, and in Madrid send them to heaven; this delights me, let us
push forward. You are going to be the happiest of mortals. What pleasure
will it be to those Fathers to hear that a captain who knows the
Bulgarian exercise has come to them!"

As soon as they reached the first barrier, Cacambo told the advanced
guard that a captain wanted to speak with my lord the Commandant. Notice
was given to the main guard, and immediately a Paraguayan officer ran
and laid himself at the feet of the Commandant, to impart this news to
him. Candide and Cacambo were disarmed, and their two Andalusian horses
seized. The strangers were introduced between two files of musketeers;
the Commandant was at the further end, with the three-cornered cap on
his head, his gown tucked up, a sword by his side, and a spontoon[15] in
his hand. He beckoned, and straightway the new-comers were encompassed
by four-and-twenty soldiers. A sergeant told them they must wait, that
the Commandant could not speak to them, and that the reverend Father
Provincial does not suffer any Spaniard to open his mouth but in his
presence, or to stay above three hours in the province.

"And where is the reverend Father Provincial?" said Cacambo.

"He is upon the parade just after celebrating mass," answered the
sergeant, "and you cannot kiss his spurs till three hours hence."

"However," said Cacambo, "the captain is not a Spaniard, but a German,
he is ready to perish with hunger as well as myself; cannot we have
something for breakfast, while we wait for his reverence?"

The sergeant went immediately to acquaint the Commandant with what he
had heard.

"God be praised!" said the reverend Commandant, "since he is a German, I
may speak to him; take him to my arbour."

Candide was at once conducted to a beautiful summer-house, ornamented
with a very pretty colonnade of green and gold marble, and with
trellises, enclosing parraquets, humming-birds, fly-birds, guinea-hens,
and all other rare birds. An excellent breakfast was provided in vessels
of gold; and while the Paraguayans were eating maize out of wooden
dishes, in the open fields and exposed to the heat of the sun, the
reverend Father Commandant retired to his arbour.

He was a very handsome young man, with a full face, white skin but high
in colour; he had an arched eyebrow, a lively eye, red ears, vermilion
lips, a bold air, but such a boldness as neither belonged to a Spaniard
nor a Jesuit. They returned their arms to Candide and Cacambo, and also
the two Andalusian horses; to whom Cacambo gave some oats to eat just by
the arbour, having an eye upon them all the while for fear of a
surprise.

Candide first kissed the hem of the Commandant's robe, then they sat
down to table.

"You are, then, a German?" said the Jesuit to him in that language.

"Yes, reverend Father," answered Candide.

As they pronounced these words they looked at each other with great
amazement, and with such an emotion as they could not conceal.

"And from what part of Germany do you come?" said the Jesuit.

"I am from the dirty province of Westphalia," answered Candide; "I was
born in the Castle of Thunder-ten-Tronckh."

"Oh! Heavens! is it possible?" cried the Commandant.

"What a miracle!" cried Candide.

"Is it really you?" said the Commandant.

"It is not possible!" said Candide.

They drew back; they embraced; they shed rivulets of tears.

"What, is it you, reverend Father? You, the brother of the fair
Cunegonde! You, that was slain by the Bulgarians! You, the Baron's son!
You, a Jesuit in Paraguay! I must confess this is a strange world that
we live in. Oh, Pangloss! Pangloss! how glad you would be if you had not
been hanged!"

The Commandant sent away the negro slaves and the Paraguayans, who
served them with liquors in goblets of rock-crystal. He thanked God and
St. Ignatius a thousand times; he clasped Candide in his arms; and their
faces were all bathed with tears.

"You will be more surprised, more affected, and transported," said
Candide, "when I tell you that Cunegonde, your sister, whom you believe
to have been ripped open, is in perfect health."

"Where?"

"In your neighbourhood, with the Governor of Buenos Ayres; and I was
going to fight against you."

Every word which they uttered in this long conversation but added wonder
to wonder. Their souls fluttered on their tongues, listened in their
ears, and sparkled in their eyes. As they were Germans, they sat a good
while at table, waiting for the reverend Father Provincial, and the
Commandant spoke to his dear Candide as follows.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In this chapter, the reader, for the first time, meets Cacambo, a servant/friend of sorts to Candide who has come from Spain. Fleeing the authorities who are in the process of boarding the ship, Candide and Cacambo hurriedly flee to Paraguay, though Candide regrets having to leave his lover behind. As they enter the country, Cacambo explains to Candide that Paraguay is owned and run by the Jesuits, Los Padres. According to Camambo, Paraguay is a utopia. Los Padres are reasonable and just, though they are at war with the Spaniards in this hemisphere and "send them to heaven" in Europe. Here, obviously, Voltaire satirizes the Jesuits for their hypocritical and corrupt religious war, as they slaughter in the New World the very people they baptize and bury in the Old World. As Candide and his servant enter a Jesuit outpost of some kind, the guards arrest the pair, treating them almost as prisoners. When they realize that Candide is German, however, the soldiers quickly change their tune, instead treating Candide and his friend like royalty. Having been taken to their commander, Candide soon realizes that this man is the baron's son, Cungonde's brother, who was reportedly killed by the Bulgars


prompt:
Chapter: Candide and Martin went in a gondola on the Brenta, and arrived at the
palace of the noble Signor Pococurante. The gardens, laid out with
taste, were adorned with fine marble statues. The palace was beautifully
built. The master of the house was a man of sixty, and very rich. He
received the two travellers with polite indifference, which put Candide
a little out of countenance, but was not at all disagreeable to Martin.

First, two pretty girls, very neatly dressed, served them with
chocolate, which was frothed exceedingly well. Candide could not refrain
from commending their beauty, grace, and address.

"They are good enough creatures," said the Senator. "I make them lie
with me sometimes, for I am very tired of the ladies of the town, of
their coquetries, of their jealousies, of their quarrels, of their
humours, of their pettinesses, of their prides, of their follies, and of
the sonnets which one must make, or have made, for them. But after all,
these two girls begin to weary me."

After breakfast, Candide walking into a long gallery was surprised by
the beautiful pictures. He asked, by what master were the two first.

"They are by Raphael," said the Senator. "I bought them at a great
price, out of vanity, some years ago. They are said to be the finest
things in Italy, but they do not please me at all. The colours are too
dark, the figures are not sufficiently rounded, nor in good relief; the
draperies in no way resemble stuffs. In a word, whatever may be said, I
do not find there a true imitation of nature. I only care for a picture
when I think I see nature itself; and there are none of this sort. I
have a great many pictures, but I prize them very little."

While they were waiting for dinner Pococurante ordered a concert.
Candide found the music delicious.

"This noise," said the Senator, "may amuse one for half an hour; but if
it were to last longer it would grow tiresome to everybody, though they
durst not own it. Music, to-day, is only the art of executing difficult
things, and that which is only difficult cannot please long. Perhaps I
should be fonder of the opera if they had not found the secret of making
of it a monster which shocks me. Let who will go to see bad tragedies
set to music, where the scenes are contrived for no other end than to
introduce two or three songs ridiculously out of place, to show off an
actress's voice. Let who will, or who can, die away with pleasure at the
sight of an eunuch quavering the _role_ of Caesar, or of Cato, and
strutting awkwardly upon the stage. For my part I have long since
renounced those paltry entertainments which constitute the glory of
modern Italy, and are purchased so dearly by sovereigns."

Candide disputed the point a little, but with discretion. Martin was
entirely of the Senator's opinion.

They sat down to table, and after an excellent dinner they went into the
library. Candide, seeing a Homer magnificently bound, commended the
virtuoso on his good taste.

"There," said he, "is a book that was once the delight of the great
Pangloss, the best philosopher in Germany."

"It is not mine," answered Pococurante coolly. "They used at one time to
make me believe that I took a pleasure in reading him. But that
continual repetition of battles, so extremely like one another; those
gods that are always active without doing anything decisive; that Helen
who is the cause of the war, and who yet scarcely appears in the piece;
that Troy, so long besieged without being taken; all these together
caused me great weariness. I have sometimes asked learned men whether
they were not as weary as I of that work. Those who were sincere have
owned to me that the poem made them fall asleep; yet it was necessary to
have it in their library as a monument of antiquity, or like those rusty
medals which are no longer of use in commerce."

"But your Excellency does not think thus of Virgil?" said Candide.

"I grant," said the Senator, "that the second, fourth, and sixth books
of his _AEneid_ are excellent, but as for his pious AEneas, his strong
Cloanthus, his friend Achates, his little Ascanius, his silly King
Latinus, his bourgeois Amata, his insipid Lavinia, I think there can be
nothing more flat and disagreeable. I prefer Tasso a good deal, or even
the soporific tales of Ariosto."

"May I presume to ask you, sir," said Candide, "whether you do not
receive a great deal of pleasure from reading Horace?"

"There are maxims in this writer," answered Pococurante, "from which a
man of the world may reap great benefit, and being written in energetic
verse they are more easily impressed upon the memory. But I care little
for his journey to Brundusium, and his account of a bad dinner, or of
his low quarrel between one Rupilius whose words he says were full of
poisonous filth, and another whose language was imbued with vinegar. I
have read with much distaste his indelicate verses against old women and
witches; nor do I see any merit in telling his friend Maecenas that if he
will but rank him in the choir of lyric poets, his lofty head shall
touch the stars. Fools admire everything in an author of reputation. For
my part, I read only to please myself. I like only that which serves my
purpose."

Candide, having been educated never to judge for himself, was much
surprised at what he heard. Martin found there was a good deal of reason
in Pococurante's remarks.

"Oh! here is Cicero," said Candide. "Here is the great man whom I fancy
you are never tired of reading."

"I never read him," replied the Venetian. "What is it to me whether he
pleads for Rabirius or Cluentius? I try causes enough myself; his
philosophical works seem to me better, but when I found that he doubted
of everything, I concluded that I knew as much as he, and that I had no
need of a guide to learn ignorance."

"Ha! here are four-score volumes of the Academy of Sciences," cried
Martin. "Perhaps there is something valuable in this collection."

"There might be," said Pococurante, "if only one of those rakers of
rubbish had shown how to make pins; but in all these volumes there is
nothing but chimerical systems, and not a single useful thing."

"And what dramatic works I see here," said Candide, "in Italian,
Spanish, and French."

"Yes," replied the Senator, "there are three thousand, and not three
dozen of them good for anything. As to those collections of sermons,
which altogether are not worth a single page of Seneca, and those huge
volumes of theology, you may well imagine that neither I nor any one
else ever opens them."

Martin saw some shelves filled with English books.

"I have a notion," said he, "that a Republican must be greatly pleased
with most of these books, which are written with a spirit of freedom."

"Yes," answered Pococurante, "it is noble to write as one thinks; this
is the privilege of humanity. In all our Italy we write only what we do
not think; those who inhabit the country of the Caesars and the
Antoninuses dare not acquire a single idea without the permission of a
Dominican friar. I should be pleased with the liberty which inspires the
English genius if passion and party spirit did not corrupt all that is
estimable in this precious liberty."

Candide, observing a Milton, asked whether he did not look upon this
author as a great man.

"Who?" said Pococurante, "that barbarian, who writes a long commentary
in ten books of harsh verse on the first chapter of Genesis; that coarse
imitator of the Greeks, who disfigures the Creation, and who, while
Moses represents the Eternal producing the world by a word, makes the
Messiah take a great pair of compasses from the armoury of heaven to
circumscribe His work? How can I have any esteem for a writer who has
spoiled Tasso's hell and the devil, who transforms Lucifer sometimes
into a toad and other times into a pigmy, who makes him repeat the same
things a hundred times, who makes him dispute on theology, who, by a
serious imitation of Ariosto's comic invention of firearms, represents
the devils cannonading in heaven? Neither I nor any man in Italy could
take pleasure in those melancholy extravagances; and the marriage of Sin
and Death, and the snakes brought forth by Sin, are enough to turn the
stomach of any one with the least taste, [and his long description of a
pest-house is good only for a grave-digger]. This obscure, whimsical,
and disagreeable poem was despised upon its first publication, and I
only treat it now as it was treated in its own country by
contemporaries. For the matter of that I say what I think, and I care
very little whether others think as I do."

Candide was grieved at this speech, for he had a respect for Homer and
was fond of Milton.

"Alas!" said he softly to Martin, "I am afraid that this man holds our
German poets in very great contempt."

"There would not be much harm in that," said Martin.

"Oh! what a superior man," said Candide below his breath. "What a great
genius is this Pococurante! Nothing can please him."

After their survey of the library they went down into the garden, where
Candide praised its several beauties.

"I know of nothing in so bad a taste," said the master. "All you see
here is merely trifling. After to-morrow I will have it planted with a
nobler design."

"Well," said Candide to Martin when they had taken their leave, "you
will agree that this is the happiest of mortals, for he is above
everything he possesses."

"But do you not see," answered Martin, "that he is disgusted with all he
possesses? Plato observed a long while ago that those stomachs are not
the best that reject all sorts of food."

"But is there not a pleasure," said Candide, "in criticising
everything, in pointing out faults where others see nothing but
beauties?"

"That is to say," replied Martin, "that there is some pleasure in having
no pleasure."

"Well, well," said Candide, "I find that I shall be the only happy man
when I am blessed with the sight of my dear Cunegonde."

"It is always well to hope," said Martin.

However, the days and the weeks passed. Cacambo did not come, and
Candide was so overwhelmed with grief that he did not even reflect that
Paquette and Friar Giroflee did not return to thank him.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Now inside the senator's home, Candide and Martin find that the man is not at all satisfied with his life or his many possessions, but is constantly critical or cynical about all that he has. For example, his paintings by Rafael don't please him, Homer bores him and he finds neither the writing of Virgil, Horace or Milton very great. Later, when Candide and Martin discuss their visit alone, Candide tries to salvage his premise that Pocourante is the happiest of all men, saying that there must be some kind of pleasure in "seeing faults where other people think they see beauties. Yet when Martin challenges his thesis, Candide admits that perhaps only he himself is optimistic at the prospect of again seeing Cunegonde


prompt:
Chapter: One evening that Candide and Martin were going to sit down to supper
with some foreigners who lodged in the same inn, a man whose complexion
was as black as soot, came behind Candide, and taking him by the arm,
said:

"Get yourself ready to go along with us; do not fail."

Upon this he turned round and saw--Cacambo! Nothing but the sight of
Cunegonde could have astonished and delighted him more. He was on the
point of going mad with joy. He embraced his dear friend.

"Cunegonde is here, without doubt; where is she? Take me to her that I
may die of joy in her company."

"Cunegonde is not here," said Cacambo, "she is at Constantinople."

"Oh, heavens! at Constantinople! But were she in China I would fly
thither; let us be off."

"We shall set out after supper," replied Cacambo. "I can tell you
nothing more; I am a slave, my master awaits me, I must serve him at
table; speak not a word, eat, and then get ready."

Candide, distracted between joy and grief, delighted at seeing his
faithful agent again, astonished at finding him a slave, filled with the
fresh hope of recovering his mistress, his heart palpitating, his
understanding confused, sat down to table with Martin, who saw all these
scenes quite unconcerned, and with six strangers who had come to spend
the Carnival at Venice.

Cacambo waited at table upon one of the strangers; towards the end of
the entertainment he drew near his master, and whispered in his ear:

"Sire, your Majesty may start when you please, the vessel is ready."

On saying these words he went out. The company in great surprise looked
at one another without speaking a word, when another domestic approached
his master and said to him:

"Sire, your Majesty's chaise is at Padua, and the boat is ready."

The master gave a nod and the servant went away. The company all stared
at one another again, and their surprise redoubled. A third valet came
up to a third stranger, saying:

"Sire, believe me, your Majesty ought not to stay here any longer. I am
going to get everything ready."

And immediately he disappeared. Candide and Martin did not doubt that
this was a masquerade of the Carnival. Then a fourth domestic said to a
fourth master:

"Your Majesty may depart when you please."

Saying this he went away like the rest. The fifth valet said the same
thing to the fifth master. But the sixth valet spoke differently to the
sixth stranger, who sat near Candide. He said to him:

"Faith, Sire, they will no longer give credit to your Majesty nor to me,
and we may perhaps both of us be put in jail this very night. Therefore
I will take care of myself. Adieu."

The servants being all gone, the six strangers, with Candide and Martin,
remained in a profound silence. At length Candide broke it.

"Gentlemen," said he, "this is a very good joke indeed, but why should
you all be kings? For me I own that neither Martin nor I is a king."

Cacambo's master then gravely answered in Italian:

"I am not at all joking. My name is Achmet III. I was Grand Sultan many
years. I dethroned my brother; my nephew dethroned me, my viziers were
beheaded, and I am condemned to end my days in the old Seraglio. My
nephew, the great Sultan Mahmoud, permits me to travel sometimes for my
health, and I am come to spend the Carnival at Venice."

A young man who sat next to Achmet, spoke then as follows:

"My name is Ivan. I was once Emperor of all the Russias, but was
dethroned in my cradle. My parents were confined in prison and I was
educated there; yet I am sometimes allowed to travel in company with
persons who act as guards; and I am come to spend the Carnival at
Venice."

The third said:

"I am Charles Edward, King of England; my father has resigned all his
legal rights to me. I have fought in defence of them; and above eight
hundred of my adherents have been hanged, drawn, and quartered. I have
been confined in prison; I am going to Rome, to pay a visit to the King,
my father, who was dethroned as well as myself and my grandfather, and I
am come to spend the Carnival at Venice."

The fourth spoke thus in his turn:

"I am the King of Poland; the fortune of war has stripped me of my
hereditary dominions; my father underwent the same vicissitudes; I
resign myself to Providence in the same manner as Sultan Achmet, the
Emperor Ivan, and King Charles Edward, whom God long preserve; and I am
come to the Carnival at Venice."

The fifth said:

"I am King of Poland also; I have been twice dethroned; but Providence
has given me another country, where I have done more good than all the
Sarmatian kings were ever capable of doing on the banks of the Vistula;
I resign myself likewise to Providence, and am come to pass the Carnival
at Venice."

It was now the sixth monarch's turn to speak:

"Gentlemen," said he, "I am not so great a prince as any of you;
however, I am a king. I am Theodore, elected King of Corsica; I had the
title of Majesty, and now I am scarcely treated as a gentleman. I have
coined money, and now am not worth a farthing; I have had two
secretaries of state, and now I have scarce a valet; I have seen myself
on a throne, and I have seen myself upon straw in a common jail in
London. I am afraid that I shall meet with the same treatment here
though, like your majesties, I am come to see the Carnival at Venice."

The other five kings listened to this speech with generous compassion.
Each of them gave twenty sequins to King Theodore to buy him clothes and
linen; and Candide made him a present of a diamond worth two thousand
sequins.

"Who can this private person be," said the five kings to one another,
"who is able to give, and really has given, a hundred times as much as
any of us?"

Just as they rose from table, in came four Serene Highnesses, who had
also been stripped of their territories by the fortune of war, and were
come to spend the Carnival at Venice. But Candide paid no regard to
these newcomers, his thoughts were entirely employed on his voyage to
Constantinople, in search of his beloved Cunegonde.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: While Candide is waiting in his hotel for dinner to be served, Cacambo, serving as a waiter, reveals himself to his old friend, saying that he is a slave now and that Cunegonde isn't with him, but is staying in Constantinople. Cacambo tells Candide that he has arranged for a ship to take him to his lover. This is the main plot development of the chapter, though an interesting side note to the story is the account of the six kings who are dining with Candide and Martin. Apparently even the royalty cannot escape the miseries of life, as they reveal their identities to Candide and to each other, explaining the horrible fortunes which have befallen them


prompt:
Chapter: The faithful Cacambo had already prevailed upon the Turkish skipper, who
was to conduct the Sultan Achmet to Constantinople, to receive Candide
and Martin on his ship. They both embarked after having made their
obeisance to his miserable Highness.

"You see," said Candide to Martin on the way, "we supped with six
dethroned kings, and of those six there was one to whom I gave charity.
Perhaps there are many other princes yet more unfortunate. For my part,
I have only lost a hundred sheep; and now I am flying into Cunegonde's
arms. My dear Martin, yet once more Pangloss was right: all is for the
best."

"I wish it," answered Martin.

"But," said Candide, "it was a very strange adventure we met with at
Venice. It has never before been seen or heard that six dethroned kings
have supped together at a public inn."

"It is not more extraordinary," said Martin, "than most of the things
that have happened to us. It is a very common thing for kings to be
dethroned; and as for the honour we have had of supping in their
company, it is a trifle not worth our attention."

No sooner had Candide got on board the vessel than he flew to his old
valet and friend Cacambo, and tenderly embraced him.

"Well," said he, "what news of Cunegonde? Is she still a prodigy of
beauty? Does she love me still? How is she? Thou hast doubtless bought
her a palace at Constantinople?"

"My dear master," answered Cacambo, "Cunegonde washes dishes on the
banks of the Propontis, in the service of a prince, who has very few
dishes to wash; she is a slave in the family of an ancient sovereign
named Ragotsky,[35] to whom the Grand Turk allows three crowns a day in
his exile. But what is worse still is, that she has lost her beauty and
has become horribly ugly."

"Well, handsome or ugly," replied Candide, "I am a man of honour, and it
is my duty to love her still. But how came she to be reduced to so
abject a state with the five or six millions that you took to her?"

"Ah!" said Cacambo, "was I not to give two millions to Senor Don
Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza,
Governor of Buenos Ayres, for permitting Miss Cunegonde to come away?
And did not a corsair bravely rob us of all the rest? Did not this
corsair carry us to Cape Matapan, to Milo, to Nicaria, to Samos, to
Petra, to the Dardanelles, to Marmora, to Scutari? Cunegonde and the old
woman serve the prince I now mentioned to you, and I am slave to the
dethroned Sultan."

"What a series of shocking calamities!" cried Candide. "But after all, I
have some diamonds left; and I may easily pay Cunegonde's ransom. Yet it
is a pity that she is grown so ugly."

Then, turning towards Martin: "Who do you think," said he, "is most to
be pitied--the Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan, King Charles Edward, or
I?"

"How should I know!" answered Martin. "I must see into your hearts to be
able to tell."

"Ah!" said Candide, "if Pangloss were here, he could tell."

"I know not," said Martin, "in what sort of scales your Pangloss would
weigh the misfortunes of mankind and set a just estimate on their
sorrows. All that I can presume to say is, that there are millions of
people upon earth who have a hundred times more to complain of than King
Charles Edward, the Emperor Ivan, or the Sultan Achmet."

"That may well be," said Candide.

In a few days they reached the Bosphorus, and Candide began by paying a
very high ransom for Cacambo. Then without losing time, he and his
companions went on board a galley, in order to search on the banks of
the Propontis for his Cunegonde, however ugly she might have become.

Among the crew there were two slaves who rowed very badly, and to whose
bare shoulders the Levantine captain would now and then apply blows from
a bull's pizzle. Candide, from a natural impulse, looked at these two
slaves more attentively than at the other oarsmen, and approached them
with pity. Their features though greatly disfigured, had a slight
resemblance to those of Pangloss and the unhappy Jesuit and Westphalian
Baron, brother to Miss Cunegonde. This moved and saddened him. He looked
at them still more attentively.

"Indeed," said he to Cacambo, "if I had not seen Master Pangloss hanged,
and if I had not had the misfortune to kill the Baron, I should think it
was they that were rowing."

At the names of the Baron and of Pangloss, the two galley-slaves uttered
a loud cry, held fast by the seat, and let drop their oars. The captain
ran up to them and redoubled his blows with the bull's pizzle.

"Stop! stop! sir," cried Candide. "I will give you what money you
please."

"What! it is Candide!" said one of the slaves.

"What! it is Candide!" said the other.

"Do I dream?" cried Candide; "am I awake? or am I on board a galley? Is
this the Baron whom I killed? Is this Master Pangloss whom I saw
hanged?"

"It is we! it is we!" answered they.

"Well! is this the great philosopher?" said Martin.

"Ah! captain," said Candide, "what ransom will you take for Monsieur de
Thunder-ten-Tronckh, one of the first barons of the empire, and for
Monsieur Pangloss, the profoundest metaphysician in Germany?"

"Dog of a Christian," answered the Levantine captain, "since these two
dogs of Christian slaves are barons and metaphysicians, which I doubt
not are high dignities in their country, you shall give me fifty
thousand sequins."

"You shall have them, sir. Carry me back at once to Constantinople, and
you shall receive the money directly. But no; carry me first to Miss
Cunegonde."

Upon the first proposal made by Candide, however, the Levantine captain
had already tacked about, and made the crew ply their oars quicker than
a bird cleaves the air.

Candide embraced the Baron and Pangloss a hundred times.

"And how happened it, my dear Baron, that I did not kill you? And, my
dear Pangloss, how came you to life again after being hanged? And why
are you both in a Turkish galley?"

"And it is true that my dear sister is in this country?" said the Baron.

"Yes," answered Cacambo.

"Then I behold, once more, my dear Candide," cried Pangloss.

Candide presented Martin and Cacambo to them; they embraced each other,
and all spoke at once. The galley flew; they were already in the port.
Instantly Candide sent for a Jew, to whom he sold for fifty thousand
sequins a diamond worth a hundred thousand, though the fellow swore to
him by Abraham that he could give him no more. He immediately paid the
ransom for the Baron and Pangloss. The latter threw himself at the feet
of his deliverer, and bathed them with his tears; the former thanked him
with a nod, and promised to return him the money on the first
opportunity.

"But is it indeed possible that my sister can be in Turkey?" said he.

"Nothing is more possible," said Cacambo, "since she scours the dishes
in the service of a Transylvanian prince."

Candide sent directly for two Jews and sold them some more diamonds, and
then they all set out together in another galley to deliver Cunegonde
from slavery.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Now boarding the ship, the relentless Candide again tries to resurrect Pangloss' optimism in front of Martin, asserting that since his circumstances might be worse, all must be for the best. Martin, of course, is skeptical. Next speaking to Cacambo, Candide learns that Cunegonde too is a slave, working as a dishwasher, and ugly to boot. Candide, however, says that he doesn't care what she looks like, as long as he can see her again. Walking about on ship, Candide spies two convicts who bear a remarkable resemblance to Cunegonde's brother, the baron, and Dr. Pangloss, both thought to be dead. Getting closer, he realizes that indeed it is them, alive, though not well. Motioning to the captain, Candide arranges to pay for their release


prompt:
Chapter: "I ask your pardon once more," said Candide to the Baron, "your pardon,
reverend father, for having run you through the body."

"Say no more about it," answered the Baron. "I was a little too hasty, I
own, but since you wish to know by what fatality I came to be a
galley-slave I will inform you. After I had been cured by the surgeon of
the college of the wound you gave me, I was attacked and carried off by
a party of Spanish troops, who confined me in prison at Buenos Ayres at
the very time my sister was setting out thence. I asked leave to return
to Rome to the General of my Order. I was appointed chaplain to the
French Ambassador at Constantinople. I had not been eight days in this
employment when one evening I met with a young Ichoglan, who was a very
handsome fellow. The weather was warm. The young man wanted to bathe,
and I took this opportunity of bathing also. I did not know that it was
a capital crime for a Christian to be found naked with a young
Mussulman. A cadi ordered me a hundred blows on the soles of the feet,
and condemned me to the galleys. I do not think there ever was a greater
act of injustice. But I should be glad to know how my sister came to be
scullion to a Transylvanian prince who has taken shelter among the
Turks."

"But you, my dear Pangloss," said Candide, "how can it be that I behold
you again?"

"It is true," said Pangloss, "that you saw me hanged. I should have been
burnt, but you may remember it rained exceedingly hard when they were
going to roast me; the storm was so violent that they despaired of
lighting the fire, so I was hanged because they could do no better. A
surgeon purchased my body, carried me home, and dissected me. He began
with making a crucial incision on me from the navel to the clavicula.
One could not have been worse hanged than I was. The executioner of the
Holy Inquisition was a sub-deacon, and knew how to burn people
marvellously well, but he was not accustomed to hanging. The cord was
wet and did not slip properly, and besides it was badly tied; in short,
I still drew my breath, when the crucial incision made me give such a
frightful scream that my surgeon fell flat upon his back, and imagining
that he had been dissecting the devil he ran away, dying with fear, and
fell down the staircase in his flight. His wife, hearing the noise,
flew from the next room. She saw me stretched out upon the table with my
crucial incision. She was seized with yet greater fear than her husband,
fled, and tumbled over him. When they came to themselves a little, I
heard the wife say to her husband: 'My dear, how could you take it into
your head to dissect a heretic? Do you not know that these people always
have the devil in their bodies? I will go and fetch a priest this minute
to exorcise him.' At this proposal I shuddered, and mustering up what
little courage I had still remaining I cried out aloud, 'Have mercy on
me!' At length the Portuguese barber plucked up his spirits. He sewed up
my wounds; his wife even nursed me. I was upon my legs at the end of
fifteen days. The barber found me a place as lackey to a knight of Malta
who was going to Venice, but finding that my master had no money to pay
me my wages I entered the service of a Venetian merchant, and went with
him to Constantinople. One day I took it into my head to step into a
mosque, where I saw an old Iman and a very pretty young devotee who was
saying her paternosters. Her bosom was uncovered, and between her
breasts she had a beautiful bouquet of tulips, roses, anemones,
ranunculus, hyacinths, and auriculas. She dropped her bouquet; I picked
it up, and presented it to her with a profound reverence. I was so long
in delivering it that the Iman began to get angry, and seeing that I was
a Christian he called out for help. They carried me before the cadi, who
ordered me a hundred lashes on the soles of the feet and sent me to the
galleys. I was chained to the very same galley and the same bench as the
young Baron. On board this galley there were four young men from
Marseilles, five Neapolitan priests, and two monks from Corfu, who told
us similar adventures happened daily. The Baron maintained that he had
suffered greater injustice than I, and I insisted that it was far more
innocent to take up a bouquet and place it again on a woman's bosom than
to be found stark naked with an Ichoglan. We were continually disputing,
and received twenty lashes with a bull's pizzle when the concatenation
of universal events brought you to our galley, and you were good enough
to ransom us."

"Well, my dear Pangloss," said Candide to him, "when you had been
hanged, dissected, whipped, and were tugging at the oar, did you always
think that everything happens for the best?"

"I am still of my first opinion," answered Pangloss, "for I am a
philosopher and I cannot retract, especially as Leibnitz could never be
wrong; and besides, the pre-established harmony is the finest thing in
the world, and so is his _plenum_ and _materia subtilis_."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Both the baron and Pangloss explain the circumstances which led to them escaping death. Cunegonde's brother says that he was healed of the sword wound inflicted upon him by Candide. Pangloss explains how he narrowly escaped hanging, thanks to a knot that stopped the rope from completely suffocating him. Both men, however, get into trouble , resulting in their arrest and subsequent captivity. Nevertheless, the philosopher still maintains his belief in deterministic optimism, asserting, "I am a philosopher, and it would not be right for me to recant since Leibniz could not possibly be wrong