; and if we abide here we are every moment in danger of
being spitted. But how can I resolve to quit a part of the world where
my dear Cunegonde resides?"

"Let us turn towards Cayenne," said Cacambo, "there we shall find
Frenchmen, who wander all over the world; they may assist us; God will
perhaps have pity on us."

It was not easy to get to Cayenne; they knew vaguely in which direction
to go, but rivers, precipices, robbers, savages, obstructed them all the
way. Their horses died of fatigue. Their provisions were consumed; they
fed a whole month upon wild fruits, and found themselves at last near a
little river bordered with cocoa trees, which sustained their lives and
their hopes.

Cacambo, who was as good a counsellor as the old woman, said to Candide:

"We are able to hold out no longer; we have walked enough. I see an
empty canoe near the river-side; let us fill it with cocoanuts, throw
ourselves into it, and go with the current; a river always leads to some
inhabited spot. If we do not find pleasant things we shall at least find
new things."

"With all my heart," said Candide, "let us recommend ourselves to
Providence."

They rowed a few leagues, between banks, in some places flowery, in
others barren; in some parts smooth, in others rugged. The stream ever
widened, and at length lost itself under an arch of frightful rocks
which reached to the sky. The two travellers had the courage to commit
themselves to the current. The river, suddenly contracting at this
place, whirled them along with a dreadful noise and rapidity. At the end
of four-and-twenty hours they saw daylight again, but their canoe was
dashed to pieces against the rocks. For a league they had to creep from
rock to rock, until at length they discovered an extensive plain,
bounded by inaccessible mountains. The country was cultivated as much
for pleasure as for necessity. On all sides the useful was also the
beautiful. The roads were covered, or rather adorned, with carriages of
a glittering form and substance, in which were men and women of
surprising beauty, drawn by large red sheep which surpassed in fleetness
the finest coursers of Andalusia, Tetuan, and Mequinez.[18]

"Here, however, is a country," said Candide, "which is better than
Westphalia."

He stepped out with Cacambo towards the first village which he saw. Some
children dressed in tattered brocades played at quoits on the outskirts.
Our travellers from the other world amused th