I was informed of your procedure at Bordeaux. I left there the faithful Cacambo and the old woman who will soon follow me. The Governor of Buenos Ayres has taken everything from me; but I still have your heart. Come. Your presence will restore me to life or will make me die with pleasure.”
At the receipt of this charming, this unexpected letter, Candide felt the utmost joy, though the malady of his beloved Cunegund overwhelmed him with grief. Distracted between these two passions, he took his gold and his diamonds and procured a person to direct him with Martin to the house where Miss Cunegund lodged. He entered, trembling with emotion, his heart flut-
tered, his tongue faltered. He attempted to draw the curtain apart, and called for a light to the bedside.
“Take care,” said the servant, “the light is unbearable to her”; and immediately she closed the curtains again.
“My beloved,” said Candide, weeping, “how are you? If you cannot see me, at least speak to me.”
“She cannot speak,” said the servant. The lady then put from the bed a plump hand which Candide bathed with his tears; then filled with diamonds, leaving a purse full of gold on the arm-chair.
