anged,
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