Unexpected Kindness and Miraculous Reunion — Candide

Candide does not take courage. He follows the old woman to a decayed house. She gives him pomatum for his sores, shows him a neat little bed and a suit of clothes, and leaves food and drink. Eat, drink, sleep, she says, and names Our Lady of Atocha, St. Anthony of Padua, and St. James of Compostella. He tries to kiss her hand. It is not my hand you must kiss, she says. She will be back tomorrow. He eats and sleeps anyway. The next morning she brings breakfast, looks at his back, and rubs it herself. She brings dinner. She brings supper. The day after, the same ceremonies. Who are you? he asks. What return can I make? She does not answer. That evening she brings no supper.

Come with me, she says, and say nothing. They walk a quarter of a mile to a lonely house among gardens and canals. A little door opens. A private staircase leads to a small rich room. She leaves him on a brocaded sofa. He thinks he has been dreaming unluckily all his life, and that this is the only agreeable part. She returns supporting a trembling woman in jewels and a veil. Take off that veil, she tells him. He raises it with a timid hand and drops at Cunegonde's feet. She falls on the sofa. A smelling bottle brings speech. He asks if she lives, if she was not ravished, if they did not rip her open as Pangloss said. Yes, they did, she says; those two accidents are not always mortal. Father, mother, and brother are dead. She will tell him how she came to Portugal, but first she wants everything since the innocent kiss and the kicks. He obeys, back still hurting. She weeps for James and Pangloss, then speaks, while he does not lose a word.