François Marie Arouet de Voltaire (16941778). Candide, or The Optimist. 1884.
The History of Cunegund
I WAS in bed and fast asleep when it pleased heaven to send the Bulgarians to our delightful castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh, where they murdered my father and brother, and cut my mother in pieces. A tall Bulgarian soldier, six feet high, perceiving that I had fainted away at this sight, attempted to ravish me. The operation brought me to my senses. I cried, I struggled, I bit, I scratched, I would have torn the tall Bulgarians eyes out, not knowing that what had happened at my fathers castle was a customary thing. The brutal soldier, enraged at my resistance, gave me a cut in the left groin with his hanger, the mark of which I still carry. Methinks I long to see it, said Candide, with all imaginable simplicity. You shall, said Cunegund; but let me proceed. Pray do, replied Candide.
She continued: A Bulgarian captain came in, and saw me weltering in my blood, and the soldier still as busy as if no one had been present. The officer, enraged at the fellows want of respect to him, killed him with one stroke of his sabre. This captain took care of me, had me cured, and carried me prisoner of war to his quarters. I washed what little linen he was master of, and dressed his victuals. He was very fond of me, that was certain; neither can I deny that he was well-made, and had a white soft skin; but he was very stupid, and knew nothing of philosophy. It might plainly be perceived that he had not been educated under Doctor Pangloss. In three months time, having gamed away all his money, and being grown tired of me, he sold me to a Jew named Don Issachar, who traded in Holland and Portugal, and was passionately fond of women. This Jew showed me great kindness, in hopes to gain my favours; but he never could prevail on me. A modest woman may be once outraged, but her virtue is greatly strengthened thereby. In order to make sure of me, he brought me to this country-house you now see. I had hitherto believed that nothing could equal the beauty of the castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh; but I found I was mistaken.
The Grand Inquisitor saw me one day at mass, ogled me all the time of service, and when it was over sent to let me know he wanted to speak with me about some private business. I was conducted to his palace, where I told him all my story. He represented to me how much it was beneath a person of my birth to belong to a circumcised Israelite. He caused a proposal to be made to Don Issachar, that he should resign me to his lordship. Don Issachar, being the court banker and a man of credit, was not easy to be prevailed upon. His lordship threatened him with an auto-da-fé; in short, my Jew was frightened into a composition, and it was agreed between them that the house and myself should belong to both in common; that the Jew should have Monday, Wednesday, and the Sabbath to himself, and the Inquisitor the other four days of the week. This agreement has subsisted almost six months, but not without several contests whether the space from Saturday night to Sunday morning belonged to the old or the new law. For my part, I have hitherto withstood them both, and truly I believe that this is the very reason why they are both so fond of me.
At length, to turn aside the scourge of earthquakes, and to intimidate Don Issachar, my Lord Inquisitor was pleased to celebrate an auto-da-fé. He did me the honour to invite me to the ceremony. I had a very good seat; and refreshments of all kinds were offered the ladies between mass and the execution. I was dreadfully shocked at the burning the two Jews and the honest Biscayner who married his godmother; but how great was my surprise, my consternation, and concern, when I beheld a figure so like Pangloss, dressed in a san-benito and mitre! I rubbed my eyes, I looked at him attentively. I saw him hanged, and I fainted away. Scarce had I recovered my senses when I beheld you, stark naked: this was the height of horror, grief, and despair. I must confess to you for a truth, that your skin is far whiter and more blooming than that of the Bulgarian captain. This spectacle worked me up to a pitch of distraction. I screamed out, and would have said, Hold, barbarians! but my voice failed me; and indeed my cries would have signified nothing. After you had been severely whipped, How is it possible, said I to myself, that the lovely Candide and the sage Pangloss should be at Lisbon, the one to receive an hundred lashes, and the other to be hanged, by order of my Lord Inquisitor, of whom I am so great a favourite? Pangloss deceived me most cruelly in saying that everything is fittest and best.
Thus agitated and perplexed, now distracted and lost, now half-dead with grief, I revolved in my mind the murder of my father, mother, and brother, committed before my eyes; the insolence of the rascally Bulgarian soldier; the wound he gave me in the groin; my servitude; my being a cook wench to my Bulgarian captain; my subjection to the dirty Jew and my cruel Inquisitor; the hanging of Doctor Pangloss; the Miserere sung while you were whipping; and particularly the kiss I gave you behind the screen the last day I ever beheld you. I returned thanks to God for having brought you to the place where I was after so many trials. I charged the old woman who attends me to bring you hither as soon as was convenient. She has punctually executed my orders, and I now enjoy the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing you, hearing you, and speaking to you. But you must certainly be half-dead with hunger; I myself have a great inclination to eat; and so let us sit down to supper.
Upon this the two lovers immediately placed themselves at table, and after having supped, they returned to seat themselves again on the magnificent sofa already mentioned, where they were in amorous dalliance, when Signor Don Issachar, one of the masters of the house, entered unexpectedly. It was the Sabbath-day, and he came to enjoy his privilege, and sigh forth his passion at the feet of the fair Cunegund.