Chapter: Candide and his valet had got beyond the barrier, before it was known in
the camp that the German Jesuit was dead. The wary Cacambo had taken
care to fill his wallet with bread, chocolate, bacon, fruit, and a few
bottles of wine. With their Andalusian horses they penetrated into an
unknown country, where they perceived no beaten track. At length they
came to a beautiful meadow intersected with purling rills. Here our two
adventurers fed their horses. Cacambo proposed to his master to take
some food, and he set him an example.

"How can you ask me to eat ham," said Candide, "after killing the
Baron's son, and being doomed never more to see the beautiful Cunegonde?
What will it avail me to spin out my wretched days and drag them far
from her in remorse and despair? And what will the _Journal of
Trevoux_[17] say?"

While he was thus lamenting his fate, he went on eating. The sun went
down. The two wanderers heard some little cries which seemed to be
uttered by women. They did not know whether they were cries of pain or
joy; but they started up precipitately with that inquietude and alarm
which every little thing inspires in an unknown country. The noise was
made by two naked girls, who tripped along the mead, while two monkeys
were pursuing them and biting their buttocks. Candide was moved with
pity; he had learned to fire a gun in the Bulgarian service, and he was
so clever at it, that he could hit a filbert in a hedge without touching
a leaf of the tree. He took up his double-barrelled Spanish fusil, let
it off, and killed the two monkeys.

"God be praised! My dear Cacambo, I have rescued those two poor
creatures from a most perilous situation. If I have committed a sin in
killing an Inquisitor and a Jesuit, I have made ample amends by saving
the lives of these girls. Perhaps they are young ladies of family; and
this adventure may procure us great advantages in this country."

He was continuing, but stopped short when he saw the two girls tenderly
embracing the monkeys, bathing their bodies in tears, and rending the
air with the most dismal lamentations.

"Little did I expect to see such good-nature," said he at length to
Cacambo; who made answer:

"Master, you have done a fine thing now; you have slain the sweethearts
of those two young ladies."

"The sweethearts! Is it possible? You are jesting, Cacambo, I can never
believe it!"

"Dear master," replied Cacambo; "you are surprised at everything. Why
should you think it so strange that in some countries there are monkeys
which insinuate themselves into the good graces of the ladies; they are
a fourth part human, as I am a fourth part Spaniard."

"Alas!" replied Candide, "I remember to have heard Master Pangloss say,
that formerly such accidents used to happen; that these mixtures were
productive of Centaurs, Fauns, and Satyrs; and that many of the ancients
had seen such monsters, but I looked upon the whole as fabulous."

"You ought now to be convinced," said Cacambo, "that it is the truth,
and you see what use is made of those creatures, by persons that have
not had a proper education; all I fear is that those ladies will play us
some ugly trick."

These sound reflections induced Candide to leave the meadow and to
plunge into a wood. He supped there with Cacambo; and after cursing the
Portuguese inquisitor, the Governor of Buenos Ayres, and the Baron, they
fell asleep on moss. On awaking they felt that they could not move; for
during the night the Oreillons, who inhabited that country, and to whom
the ladies had denounced them, had bound them with cords made of the
bark of trees. They were encompassed by fifty naked Oreillons, armed
with bows and arrows, with clubs and flint hatchets. Some were making a
large cauldron boil, others were preparing spits, and all cried:

"A Jesuit! a Jesuit! we shall be revenged, we shall have excellent
cheer, let us eat the Jesuit, let us eat him up!"

"I told you, my dear master," cried Cacambo sadly, "that those two girls
would play us some ugly trick."

Candide seeing the cauldron and the spits, cried:

"We are certainly going to be either roasted or boiled. Ah! what would
Master Pangloss say, were he to see how pure nature is formed?
Everything is right, may be, but I declare it is very hard to have lost
Miss Cunegonde and to be put upon a spit by Oreillons."

Cacambo never lost his head.

"Do not despair," said he to the disconsolate Candide, "I understand a
little of the jargon of these people, I will speak to them."

"Be sure," said Candide, "to represent to them how frightfully inhuman
it is to cook men, and how very un-Christian."

"Gentlemen," said Cacambo, "you reckon you are to-day going to feast
upon a Jesuit. It is all very well, nothing is more unjust than thus to
treat your enemies. Indeed, the law of nature teaches us to kill our
neighbour, and such is the practice all over the world. If we do not
accustom ourselves to eating them, it is because we have better fare.
But you have not the same resources as we; certainly it is much better
to devour your enemies than to resign to the crows and rooks the fruits
of your victory. But, gentlemen, surely you would not choose to eat your
friends. You believe that you are going to spit a Jesuit, and he is your
defender. It is the enemy of your enemies that you are going to roast.
As for myself, I was born in your country; this gentleman is my master,
and, far from being a Jesuit, he has just killed one, whose spoils he
wears; and thence comes your mistake. To convince you of the truth of
what I say, take his habit and carry it to the first barrier of the
Jesuit kingdom, and inform yourselves whether my master did not kill a
Jesuit officer. It will not take you long, and you can always eat us if
you find that I have lied to you. But I have told you the truth. You are
too well acquainted with the principles of public law, humanity, and
justice not to pardon us."

The Oreillons found this speech very reasonable. They deputed two of
their principal people with all expedition to inquire into the truth of
the matter; these executed their commission like men of sense, and soon
returned with good news. The Oreillons untied their prisoners, showed
them all sorts of civilities, offered them girls, gave them refreshment,
and reconducted them to the confines of their territories, proclaiming
with great joy:

"He is no Jesuit! He is no Jesuit!"

Candide could not help being surprised at the cause of his deliverance.

"What people!" said he; "what men! what manners! If I had not been so
lucky as to run Miss Cunegonde's brother through the body, I should have
been devoured without redemption. But, after all, pure nature is good,
since these people, instead of feasting upon my flesh, have shown me a
thousand civilities, when then I was not a Jesuit."

 Candide and Cacambo stop for a meal. While they eat, Candide despairs about Cunegonde. They stop to rest by a meadow and observe the lovely scenic and tranquil environment: birds chirping, water gurgling, naked women running around with monkeys trying to bite their buttocks. This really happens. Candide does what any normal man would do when faced with butt-biting monkeys: he shoots them. Again, he acts first and asks questions later. He's feeling pretty good about himself until he sees that the girls are crying. Cacambo informs him that the monkeys were the girls' lovers. The men hide to avoid these hysterical women and go to sleep. When they wake up, they are bound and unable to move. The people of the girls, the Oreillons, plan to boil and skewer the men for food. Cacambo explains to their captors in the native tongue that they are not Jesuits, the enemy of the Oreillons, but in fact have just killed a Jesuit and stolen his clothes. The Oreillons confirm Cacambo's story, release the men, and treat them as honored guests. How fortunate! This is surely the best of all possible worlds.

