Miss Cunegund has recovered her plumpness and former beauty; she is in our master's seraglio." "What a chain of misfortunes," says Candide. "Was there a necessity for Miss Cunegund to become handsome only to make me miserable?" "It matters little," says Pangloss, "whether Miss Cunegund be beautiful or ugly in your house or that of another; that is nothing to the general system; for my part, I wish her a numerous progeny. Philosophers do not perplex themselves by whom women have children, provided they have. them. Population." "Alas!" says Martin, philosophers ought much rather to employ themselves in rendering a few individuals happy, than in engaging them to multiply the number of sufferers." While they were thus arguing a great noise was heard on a sudden; it was the Admiral diverting himself by causing a dozen slaves to be whipped. Pangloss and Candide, both frightened, with tears in their eyes, parted from their friends, and in all haste took the road towards Constantinople.
There they found all the people in a great stir. A fire had broken out in the suburb of Pera; five or six hundred houses were already consumed, and two or three thousand persons perished in the flames. "What a horrible disaster!" cried Candide. "All is well," says Pangloss. "These little accidents happen every year. It is entirely natural for the fire to catch houses built of wood, and for those who are in them to be burnt. Besides, this procures some resources to honest people who languish in misery." "What is this I hear?" says an officer of the Sublime Porte. "How, wretch, darest thou say that all is well when half Constantinople is in flames! Dog, be cursed of our Prophet! Receive the punishment due to thy impudence!" And as he uttered these words he took Pangloss by the middle and flung him headlong into the flames. Candida, half-dead with fright, crept on all-fours as well as he could to a neighbouring quarter, where all was more quiet; and we shall see what became of him in the next chapter.
