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evening when Candide, with his attendant Martin, were going to sit down to supper with some foreigners who lodged in the same inn, a man, with a face the colour of soot, came behind him, and taking him by the arm, said:

“Hold yourself in readiness to go along with us, be sure you do not fail.”

He turned and beheld Cacambo. Nothing but the sight of Cunegund could have given greater joy and surprise. He was almost beside himself with joy. After embracing this dear friend, he said:

“Cunegund must be here? Where, where is she? Carry me to her this instant, that I may die with joy in her presence.”

“Cunegund is not here,” answered Cacambo; “she is at Constantinople.”

“Good heavens, at Constantinople! but no matter if she was in China, I would fly thither. Let us be gone.”

“We depart after supper,” said Cacambo. “I cannot at present stay to say anything more to you; I am a slave, and my master waits for me; I must go and attend him at table: but say not a word, only get your supper, and hold yourself in readiness.”

Candide, divided between joy and grief, charmed to have thus met with his faithful agent again, and surprised to hear he was a slave, his heart palpitating, his senses confused, but full of the hopes of recovering his mistress, sat down to table with Martin, who beheld all these scenes with great unconcern, and with six strangers who had come to spend the carnival at Venice.

Cacambo waited at table upon one of these strangers. When supper was nearly over, he drew near to his master, and whispered him in the ear:

“Sire, your Majesty may go when you please, the ship is ready.”

Having said these words, he left the room. The guests, surprised at what 1em