"Had not Pangloss been dead," said he, "I should combat his system in a victorious manner. God keep me from becoming a Manichaean! My mistress taught me to respect the impenetrable veil with which the Deity envelopes his manner of operating upon us. It is perhaps man who precipitates himself into the abyss of misfortunes under which he groans. Of a frugivorous animal he has made himself a carnivorous one. The savages which we have seen eat only Jesuits, and do not live upon bad terms among themselves. These savages, if there be one scattered here and there in the woods, only subsisting by acorns and herbs, are, without doubt, still more happy. Society has given birth to the greatest crimes. There are men in society who are necessitated by their condition to wish the death of others. The shipwreck of a vessel, the burning of a house, and the loss of a battle, cause sadness in one part of society and give joy to another. All is very bad, my dear Cacambo, and there is nothing left for a philosopher but to cut his own throat with all imaginable calmness." "You are in the right," says Cacambo. "But I perceive an inn; you must be very dry. Come, my old master; let us drink one draught, and we will after that continue our philosophical disquisitions."
When they entered the inn they saw a company of country lads and lasses dancing in the midst of the yard to the sound of some wretched instruments. Gaiety and mirth sat in every countenance; it was a scene worthy the pencil of Watteau. As soon as Candide appeared, a young woman took him by the hand and entreated him to dance. "My pretty maid," answered Candide, "when a person has lost his mistress, found his wife again, and heard that the great Pangloss is dead, he can have little or no inclination to cut capers. Moreover, I am to kill myself to-morrow morning; and you know that a man who has but a few hours to live ought not to lose them in dancing." Cacambo, hearing Candide talk thus, addressed him in these terms: "A thirst for glory has always been the characteristic of great philosophers. Cato of Utica killed himself after having taken a sound nap; Socrates drank the hemlock potion after discoursing familiarly with his friends; many of the English have blown their brains out with a pistol after coming from an entertainment; but I never yet heard of a great man who cut his own throat after a dancing bout. It is for you, my dear master, that this honour is reserved. Take my advice; let us dance our fill, and we will kill ourselves to-morrow."
