This idea affected him with grief and compassion: he examined them more attentively than before.

“In troth,” said he, turning to Martin, “if I had not seen my master Pangloss fairly hanged, and had not myself been unlucky enough to run the Baron through the body, I should absolutely think those two rowers were the men.”

No sooner had Candide uttered the names of the Baron and Pangloss, than the two slaves gave a great cry, ceased rowing, and let fall their oars out of their hands. The master of the vessel, seeing this, ran up to them, and redoubled the discipline of the lash.

“Hold, hold,” cried Candide, “I will give you what money you shall ask for these two persons.”

“Good heavens! it is Candide,”