TURES OF THE TWO TRAVELLERS, WITH TWO GIRLS, TWO MONKEYS, AND THE
SAVAGES CALLED OREILLONS.

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