transcribed from the 1872 t. nelson and sons edition by david price, email ccx074@pglaf.org little alice's palace; or, the sunny heart. london: t. nelson and sons, paternoster row; edinburgh; and new york. 1872. {i:miss mason and lolly: p0.jpg} chapter i. the rain was pattering, pattering steadily upon the roof of a little brown cottage that stood alone by the country roadside. there had been a long and dreary winter, and now the bright spring was coming, with its buds and leaves and flowers, to gladden the earth, that had all the time seemed to be dead. as the shower came down, the little green blades of grass sprang up to catch the drops; and they seemed almost to laugh and sing, so full of joy were they when they could lift their heads from the dust. it was so much sweeter to be out once more from their prison-house and to exult with all god's fair creation; so they bathed themselves in the falling shower, and made themselves fresh and clean; and nobody would ever have believed that they came out from their dark beds in the earth. little alice looked out of the windows of the brown cottage, and saw them nodding gaily to her as they were taking their bath; and so she smiled back again, and talked to them from her perch in the window-seat as if they were brothers and sisters, with eyes and ears to see and hear, and hearts to return her love. indeed, there was no one else to whom she could talk the livelong day. no father, for he was dead; no living brothers and sisters; no mother at home, for they were very poor, and her mother must be gone at early dawn to labour for their food and clothing and shelter;--and so alice had to make companions of the blades of grass that nodded at her through the drops. "oh, you beauties!" said she gladly; "and i know who made you, too, and what a great, good god he is to send you here--bright little creatures that you are. how pleasant it will be down by the brook-side when the sun comes out, and you and i and the blue violets and the dandelions have our visiting-time together! never a little girl had such joy as i have!" and alice put her face close to the pane, and looked up into the sky to thank her kind heavenly father for sending her such blessings. it seemed as if she could see him bending graciously down towards her, as her sunday-school teacher had often represented him to her; and then she thought of him who was upon the earth, and who took up little children in his arms and blessed them; and she put out her hands towards the heavens, saying earnestly, "me, too, dear saviour: bless me too!" so absorbed was she that she didn't hear anybody enter the room until a timid voice said,-"who were you speaking to, alice?" there was such a woful figure by the door as she turned her head--no bonnet, no shoes, and a tattered frock, all draggled with dirt and rain, and the long, uncombed locks straggling about the child's shoulders, and such a blue, pinched look in the thin face! "oh, it's you, maddie, is it?" said alice, jumping from the window and taking the hand of the new-comer. "but it was a pity to get so wet. i'm glad you've come. we'll keep house together till it clears away, and then maybe we'll have a nice walk. first we must dry your clothes, though." and she put some sticks in the fireplace, and putting a match to them, stationed maddie before the blaze, while she held the skirt out to dry. "isn't it pleasant here?" asked alice, with a beaming smile. maddie looked around, with a half shrug, upon the cheerless room, with its bit of a table and the one chair and the low, curtainless window, and then her eyes fell upon the scantily-clad little girl by her side; and then she shivered, as the dampness of her clothes sent a creeping chill through her frame; but she didn't say it was pleasant. "aren't you afraid to stay here so much alone, alice?" she asked, giving another glance about the room. "but i never stay _alone_, maddie!" answered the dear child. "i have plenty of company--'tabby,' and the flies, and now and then a spider, and everything that goes by the door, and the clouds and the sunshine and the leaves and the--oh dear! so many things, maddie, that i can't begin to tell you." and she stopped short for want of breath. "and somebody you were talking to. who was that?" asked maddie. "ah, yes, best of all! don't you know, maddie?" said alice, sinking her voice to a whisper, and gazing earnestly at her young companion. "miss mason told me how he is everywhere, and sees and hears us, and that he loves us better than our mother or father can do, and watches over us and keeps us from all harm. if you go to the school with me you'll learn all about it, maddie dear. no, no; i'm never _alone_ though mother _is gone_ all the long day." "do you _see_ him, alice?" asked maddie earnestly. "not as i see _you_, maddie," returned her companion with reverence; "but when i look up into the sky, and sometimes when i sit here by myself and speak things that i have learned from my bible, i seem to feel some strange brightness all above and around me; and it's so real to me that it's just like seeing with these eyes. miss mason says 'it's my soul that sees.' whatever it is, it's very beautiful, maddie." and alice clasped her hands in a sort of ecstasy, and drew near to the window to look up once more into the heavens, whither her eyes and her heart so continually turned. chapter ii. the shower did not last long, and the warm sun melted the diamonds from the grass, so that it was soon fit for the little girls to go out into the freshness and enjoy the pleasant air. "don't you think this a pretty cottage?" asked alice, as they stepped outside and stood looking upon her home. "see the moss all over the shingles; how velvety it is! tabby goes up there to sleep on the soft cushion in the sun. and here's where i put my convolvuluses, and they climb up and run all over the window and make such a nice curtain, with the pink and blue and white and purple mixed with the green; and they reach up to the very chimney, maddie, and hug it round, and then trail down upon the roof. oh, i think it's elegant! and here's my flower-bed, right under the window, where mother can smell the blossoms as we sit sewing when she has a day at home. we take real comfort here, mother and i, maddie." and so the little blithesome child prattled about her humble home, while her companion looked in astonishment upon her, wondering why it was that alice always seemed so happy, while _she_ was so miserable. "we'll go down by the brook-side now," said alice. "there's my grand palace. such hangings! all blue and gold and crimson; and carpets that your feet sink into; and a great mirror, such as the richest man couldn't buy. don't you know what i mean, maddie?" and alice laughed gleefully as they reached the brook-side, and pointed to the heavens above, so brilliant in the sunny radiance, and down to the green and flowery turf beneath their feet, and to the clear stream that reflected all things, like the purest glass. and she said, "now, don't you like my palace, maddie?" "yes, it's very pretty here," said maddie; but she didn't seem to feel about it as alice did, who was in such good spirits that she could keep neither her feet nor her tongue still, but frisked about the green like a young deer, and chattered like a magpie, only in far sweeter tones. "_this_ is my _bower_," said she, lifting up the drooping branches of a willow and shutting herself and maddie within. "here i come for a nap when i am tired of play; and the leaves rustle in the wind, making a pleasant sound, and the birds sit on the boughs and sing me asleep, and i dream always happy dreams. when awake, i think about the pure river that my bible speaks of, and the tree of life that is on either side, and the beautiful light that isn't like the sun, nor the moon, nor the blaze of a candle, but comes from the face of god, and is never hidden from us to leave us in darkness." maddie sat down upon a large stone that alice called her throne, and looked eagerly up at her companion for more; for alice's words seemed to her like some beautiful story out of a book. "did you ever go into any great house, maddie?" asked alice. "no, never," said maddie. "i passed by mrs. cowper's one day, and looked in at the open door when somebody was coming out, but i couldn't see much." "that's just where i went with mother," said alice; "and little mary took me into a high room, the walls all velvet and satin and gold, so that my eyes ached for looking; and there were such heaps of pretty things on the tables and all about the place; but it didn't make me feel glad as i do when i get out here in my grand palace with these living, breathing things around me. o maddie, there isn't anything on earth so beautiful as what god has made!" "do you stay out here always?" asked maddie. "oh no," said alice; "that would be idle. when mother has work i stay at home to help her. i've learned to sew nicely now, and can save mother many a stitch. to-day's my holiday, and i can play with you as long as you please. i've brought some dinner, and we'll set a table in my dininghall." and she took from her pocket a little parcel, and led maddie from the bower to a hollow near the brook, where was a flat rock, and there she spread her frugal fare. there were two pieces of homemade bread and a small slice of cold bacon, which she put upon leaves in the middle of the rocky table; and gathering some violets, she placed them in bunches here and there, till the table was sweet with their delicious fragrance. just as the children were about to help themselves to the food, there came some little tired feet over the grass; and a more forlorn figure than maddie's stood a few yards off, looking shyly, but wistfully, at them. "now, lolly, you may just run home again as quick as you can," said maddie sharply. "we haven't enough dinner for alice and me. go, now!" and she went towards her and gave her a slight push, at which the child cried, but without turning away or making a step towards home. "is that your sister?" asked alice, going up to maddie. "yes; she's always running after me," returned maddie, with an ill-natured frown. "poor little thing!" said alice. "i wish my sister nellie had lived. i shouldn't be cross to her, i know. come here, lolly: you shall have some of _my_ dinner." and she led the little grateful child to the wild table, that seemed to her like a fairy scene, with the fresh leaf-plates, and the pure sweet flowers breathing so delightfully. "mother makes capital bread--doesn't she, maddie?" said alice, as she ate her small portion with evident relish, while she shared the remnant with her guests. "now, maddie," said she, as they finished the repast, "you clear the table and wash the dishes, and lolly and i'll go to my mirror to make ourselves nice to sit down, and then i'll tell you the story my teacher told me the other day, if you would like to hear it." maddie gladly agreed to this; and lolly gave herself up to the gentle hands of her new friend, who took her to the brook and washed her face until the dirt all vanished and her cheeks were like two red roses. then she took her pocket-comb, and, dipping it into the water, made the child's hair so smooth that lolly didn't know herself when she looked into the brook, and asked, "what little girl it was with such bright eyes and fresh rosy cheeks?" and when alice told her that it was herself, she laughed with delight, and said "she would come every day to dress herself by alice's mirror if she could look so nice." and then alice and maddie and lolly went to the bower for the story. alice sat down on the grassy bank, and lolly laid her head upon her friend's lap, while maddie crowded close to her to listen. "i don't know that i can remember it very well," said alice; "but i'll tell it as nearly as i can like miss mason. she called it 'the little exiled princess,' and this is it." chapter iii. once upon a time there was a little girl no bigger than lolly here, sitting in the dirt by the roadside, crying. her frock was all ragged and soiled, and the tears had run over the dust upon her face, making it streaked, and disfiguring it sadly. altogether, she was a very miserable little object, when a lady, walking along the road, suddenly came upon her, and stopped to see what was the matter. as the lady gazed upon the strange, ragged little creature, there came tears into her eyes, and she said softly, as if speaking to herself,-"who would think that this is the daughter of a great king?" the child, seeing a beautiful lady before her, jumped from the ground, and, with shame, began to shake herself from the dirt that clung to her garments; but the stranger, taking no notice of her untidy condition, clasped the child's fingers in her white hand, and told her to lead her to her home. it was a brown cottage, very like mine, only _that_ one was hung with cobwebs, and the dust was an inch thick upon the floor, and the window was so begrimmed that scarcely any light came through. "ugh!" said the lady, as she stood upon the threshold and looked in. "bring me a broom!" and she brushed away the hanging webs, and made the floor neat and clean, and taught the child to wash the window, until the bright sun came in and played about the floor and upon the walls; and then she made the little girl wash her face and hands, and put on a better frock, that she found in the chest. "now, my little princess," said she, "come outside for a while, in the fresh air, and i will talk to you." "why do you call me 'little princess'?" asked the child, as they sat down upon the cottage-step, while the birds twittered about them and the sweet breath of summer touched their cheeks. "because you are the daughter of a great king," said the lady, gently stroking her soft, brown hair, that she had found so tangled and shaggy, but had made so nice and smooth. "my father was a poor man, and he lies in the graveyard," said the little girl, as she looked wonderingly at her friend. "yes; but i mean your heavenly father," said the lady--"he whom we call god. surely you have heard of him, my dear child!" the little girl said that she had heard of him; but, from what she could learn, the lady knew that she looked upon him as one that is afar off; and she wished to teach her how very near he is continually, even round about her bed and about her path, and spying out all her ways. "do you live here all alone, dear child?" asked she kindly. her words were so sweet and gentle that they sounded like the murmur of the brook near the little child's home. "all day long alone, while mother is away at her work," answered the child, with her eyes full of sad tears. "and what do you do with the weary hours? do they not seem very dull and dreary to you?" asked the lady. "ah, yes," said the little one. "i have nobody to play with or talk to; and i'm glad when the night comes and i can creep into bed and shut my eyes and forget everything." "what if you had some kind friend ever near, to smile on you and bless you,--somebody to whom you could tell all your little sorrows as you are now doing to me?" said the lady. "would that be pleasant?" "oh yes, indeed!" returned the child. "will you stay?" for she had felt it very sweet to be sitting there with the kind lady's words falling like music upon her ear, and her heart was lighter and happier than it had been in all her life. "i cannot always be with you," said the lady. "but there is one who 'will never leave you.' how beautiful he has made everything about you!" and she looked upon the green earth, with the peeping flowers, and upon the delicate shrubs that skirted the roadside, and the wild-roses and creeping plants along the hedges, and then she looked up into the blue heavens, with such an expression of love that the child gazed at her with rapture. "such a good god!" said the lady, still looking up with the bright light upon her face. "and such a wondrously beautiful world, where we may walk joyously, with his love in our hearts as well as all about our path; and yet we sit in the dust weeping, and forget that he is our father, and that he is watching for us to turn towards him--poor, wandering, wayward children that we are!" though the lady spoke as if to herself, the child knew that she was thinking of her; for she had not quite put away the shame of her first appearance; and she touched her white hand timidly with her brown finger, and said, really in earnest, "i won't sit in the dirt again." "that's a dear child," said her friend. "you must never again forget that, although you are poor, and must live in this world for a while, you are in truth a little exiled princess, and your glorious home is with the great king, your father, in the skies; and it does not become the daughter of so great a king to put herself on a level with the beasts; but you must lift yourself up more and more towards heaven." the little girl looked at her, and straightened her figure to its greatest possible height. "not to carry yourself proudly, as the daughter of an earthly king might do," continued the lady, "but be above doing a mean or low thing, and try to be heavenly and pure, like your blessed lord and father; and then he will lift you up to his beautiful, high throne." the child's head drooped again, and she looked despondingly at her teacher, as if she did not really know what to do. "i'm going now," said the lady; "but i shall come once a week to see how you get on. i shall not expect the cobwebs to gather any more in the cottage, nor the dust to collect upon the floor, nor to shut out the sun from the window, nor the little princess's face to be dirty and ugly; because that would offend the pure and holy god, who made this world fresh and clean and beautiful, and expects his children to keep it so. do you think you will remember 'our father'?" "'who art in heaven,'" said the child, calling to mind the prayer taught her some time in her life, but long since almost forgotten. "not in heaven _only_, dear child," said the lady. "i want you to think of him as close beside you always, wherever you go. can you read?" "a little." the lady opened a pocket-bible, and drawing the little girl closer to her, said, "now, say after me,-"'whither shall i go from thy spirit? or whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if i make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. if i say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.' "you see, my dear child," said she, as she reverently closed the book, "we cannot get away from god if we would, and surely we would not try to hide ourselves from so kind a friend and father if we could. only when we are doing something that we are ashamed of do we shun the face of one who loves us; and if we try to flee from the eye of god we may be sure we are guilty of some wickedness. how much sweeter is it to do what we know will please him, and look freely up into his face, as a good child delights to meet his earthly parent's smile!" the lady rose to go, and the child looked wistfully at her and then at the little bible. "ah yes; i will give you this. it will tell you what to do." and she put the book into the child's hands. "you will read a chapter every day till i come?" the little girl gladly promised, but was sad at the parting; for never an hour passed so cheerily as the hour with the kind teacher. "you may be sure i'll come again, for _he_ sends me," said the lady. and she looked up once more with the heavenly face, and then stooped till her soft lips touched the child's forehead; and, while the pressure of the gentle kiss thrilled through the very soul of the little girl, her friend was gone. chapter iv "did she come again?" asked maddie, who had got upon her knees in front of alice, with mouth and eyes and ears wide open for the story. "oh yes; many and many a time," said alice. "and she taught the little girl to see her father's love in the trees, and the flowers, and all about, as she walked amid his beautiful creation; and she learned to be a neat, tidy little girl, instead of the dirty, miserable creature that sat crying in the dirt by the roadside when she first saw her friend. the lady taught her to look upon herself as greatly beloved by her father, and after that she was not miserable any more." "did you ever see the little princess?" asked lolly, raising her head from alice's lap and looking earnestly at her. "yes, indeed. every day since the lady came to her," said alice. "she lives in the same cottage now; but it has grown to be a beautiful place; for god's flowers are all about it, and god's sun streams in at the window, and all over the mossy roof, like a golden flood,--and god himself is always with her to keep her from harm and from being lonely or sad." and as alice said this, the tears glistened in her blue eyes, as the dew-drops sparkle through the sunlight in the violets. "we'll go and see her now," continued she; "and i'll show you two other little exiled princesses." and she took lolly and maddie down by the brook-side, and bade them look in her great mirror; and there they saw themselves and alice--all children of the great king. "ah, now i know!" said maddie, clapping her hands. "_you_ are the little princess, alice, and miss mason is the good lady. is she so nice as all that?" "_just as nice_, dear maddie," replied alice; "and if you and lolly will go with me to the sunday-school, she'll tell us a great many more beautiful stories, to help us on our way to our heavenly home. "but come. it is nearly time for us to go now. mother will be looking for me. good-bye." and the little girl with the sunny heart bounded into the cottage with a smile and a kiss for her mother. chapter v. when alice left the children, they went sauntering along the road towards home. very slowly they walked, and not joyously and hopefully, as little children do who think of their father's house as the brightest and dearest spot in the whole world. it was a long distance from the brown cottage of their friend; but the freshness of the evening made it delightful to be out, and they had been resting so many hours that they were not weary. besides, the twinkling stars came out in the sky, and there was shining above them the calm, bright moon; and altogether it was so serene and lovely, that they almost wished they could be always walking in some pleasant path that should have no unpleasant thing at the end--such as they felt their home to be. presently they came to a bend in the road, and a few steps from the corner was a low-roofed house, a ruinous-looking place, with rags stuffed in the broken window-panes. there were green fields around it, and tall trees gracefully waving near it; but the old house spoiled the landscape by its slovenly, shabby appearance. a dim light was burning in the room nearest the children; and as they approached, they could see their father and mother sitting at a table, eating their coarse supper of bread and cold salt pork. lolly thought what a pleasant table alice had by the brook-side, and the scent of the violets seemed even now to reach her, and the music of the waters was in her ears, and the bright, happy face of her little playmate came freshly before her, making the dingy room where her parents sat, with the gloom of the dim light and the tattered dusty furniture, still more uninviting and cheerless. lolly lingered outside the door, while maddie entered. she sat down upon the step, and called to mind all that alice had said to them that day. she was younger than maddie by a year or two, but her soul was older--that is, it was more thoughtful and earnest; and instead of dwelling always on the things of earth, she had a wistful longing for something higher and better, which alice's words had begun to satisfy. the cool breeze played upon her cheek, and the sound of the air, as it rustled the leaves, and the breath of the flower-scented meadows fell soothingly upon her senses; and as she looked up into the starry sky, with its myriads of gleaming lights, and recalled the story, she felt within herself that indeed she was a little princess as well as alice, and that far above all the glory of the heavens her father was awaiting her return to the heavenly palace. "maddie and i mustn't forget these things," said she to herself; "but must try to get ready for our better home." so much was lolly thinking of the things she had heard in the story, that she might have sat there in the dew all night, but that her mother called her to eat her supper and go to bed. maddie was already fast asleep upon a trundle-bed, that was pushed under the great bed by day, and drawn out at night; for there were only the two rooms in the house, and they had to make the most of all the space. lolly had never felt the house so small and close as on this night; for her soul was swelling with such large free thoughts, that the four narrow walls of the bedroom seemed to press in upon her and almost to stop her breath. she could not go to bed until she had opened the window and looked up once more into the bright sky; and as she did so, she said very earnestly, "o my father!" she did not know any prayers. she had never been taught to call upon god. most that she had ever heard of the other life was through alice's story that day; and her heart was so glad of the knowledge, that it already began to go out towards her heavenly home and her gracious father. as she spoke these words, there came such a happy feeling to her spirit--a feeling that she was not alone, but that she was watched over and protected; and with a sense of security and safety, such as she had never before known, she lay down beside her sister, and was soon sweetly slumbering. chapter vi. lolly was awakened in the morning by the fretful voice of her mother, as she went scolding about the house, trying to pick up something for breakfast; and she heard her father answering her in no pleasant mood, and kicking about the floor whatever came in his way. it was a sad awakening for poor lolly, and, for the minute, it put wholly out of her mind the pleasure of the previous day, and the lesson learned in the green and sunny place by the brook-side; and she was sorely tempted to cover her head with the bed-clothes, and sleep again, until her parents were off to their work, and then give herself up to idleness and play, as she had always done. but the bright happy face of alice came before her to help her, and she was out of bed in a minute. "maddie, maddie!" said she, leaning over her sister and giving her the least bit of a shake in order to arouse her; "come, get up. the sun is shining on the wall, and it is a beautiful day. i want you to go with me for alice." "get away!" returned maddie in a huff. "i haven't slept half enough!" and, settling herself again, she dropped off into a heavier slumber; while lolly, seeing that it would do no good to disturb her, dressed herself and went into the other room. her mother was baking a cake, and her father sat near, idle. both looked surprised to see lolly up so early. there was a woollen-factory in the village, perhaps half a mile away, and they were off generally long before the children were up; and maddie and lolly usually ate such pickings as they left upon the table, and spent their days as they pleased, with little thought or care from their parents. lolly could not wait to get her breakfast. she cared for nothing to eat, now that her mind was intent upon some great thing, and she sped away over the dewy grass to find her new friend. she had never been in alice's house, for they had only lived a little while in the place where they now were, and maddie alone had found out their neighbour. her sister would not always let her play with her, and it was only a mere chance that led her to follow maddie the day before and get acquainted with alice. i did not mean to say _chance_. i would rather say a kind watchful _providence_--which is the true and right word for a christian to use; because everything that happens in this world is governed by god's overruling power for some good purpose; and lolly was led to the spot where her sister and alice were at play, expressly that she might learn something of her bright, eternal home. now that she had seen the sunny-hearted little girl once, it took her but very few minutes to find her again. the distance seemed nothing at all; and, from the time she left her own door, she could see the cheerful face all along her way, making her walk very pleasant and not in the least lonely. the cottage door was wide open, and the sunlight lay in golden streaks on the floor at the entrance, where tabby had stretched herself comfortably. lolly could see into the little square room at the right. the table was spread with a neat, white cloth, and alice and her mother were eating their breakfast together. there were two white plates on the table, and white cups and saucers, and a smoking dish of porridge. all this lolly could see as she stood hesitating near the door; but, in a minute, alice caught a glimpse of her little, shy face, and ran to lead her in. "you must have some of this nice breakfast," said she, giving lolly a plateful of the porridge, and pouring some milk on it from a small white pitcher. lolly looked timidly at alice's mother, to see if she might eat it; and the kind pleasant smile she received made her feel quite at home, so that she needed no further urging. soon after the mother went away, and left alice to put the room in order; and, when all things were right, alice said "she could go with lolly as well as not that day, and they would make a pretty place of the shabby cottage; for it was just in the best spot--so wild and shady and green." it was rather a sorrowful task at the beginning, and almost any other little girl than alice would have been quite discouraged. there was a great deal of rubbish in the sitting-room, and the floor and windows looked as if they had never known anything of soap and water. maddie sat upon the top of a half-barrel, swinging her brown, soiled feet, and playing with a black puppy, that was snapping at her toes; while the table was strewn with crumbs and dirty dishes from the morning's meal, and chips and sticks and bits of rags were upon the floor. she looked as if she had just got out of bed. her face was dull, and her hair showed no touch of brush or comb, and her nails were long and dirty; but she jumped from her perch with some signs of shame as she saw alice, so neat and tidy, at the door; and she began to scramble about as if she wished to make things a little better. "may i help you to-day, maddie?" asked alice. "i haven't any work at home, and i like to get things tidy. we'll make such a room of this before night!" and, without another word, she began in earnest to bring order out of strange confusion. lolly was a capital helper, because her heart was in the matter, and she really wanted a pleasant, cheerful home; but maddie was content to look on, and scarcely moved a finger to help. they packed away the wood and chips in the closet under the lowest shelf, and washed the dishes and set them up edgewise in their proper places; and they mopped the floor, and scrubbed the windows and table, and brought boughs of evergreen to hang upon the nails around the walls and make it cheerful and pretty. alice thought of this. she said, "rich folks hang paintings on their walls--and these are god's pictures, the work of his almighty fingers, and so beautiful! why not put them where we can always look at them, and in them see his love and kindness?" lolly thought her the most wonderful little girl in all the world, and clapped her hands for joy as she looked upon the altered room. then they went outside, and swept the sticks and chips from the lawn; and maddie managed to hunt up a hammer and some old rusty nails, and to help alice to fasten the loose boards upon the door, which improved it more than anything else could do. it was so low from the roof to the ground that by stepping on a chair they could easily reach; and they trained a running rose-bush, that had been long neglected, and hung, trailing, over the grass, so that it nearly covered the whole side of the cottage, and would soon be like a bright green mantle over the dark walls. chapter vii. just as they had finished their labours, and alice had prevailed upon maddie to put herself in a little better order, and the three young friends had seated themselves upon the step to get something from alice's bible--some words of love and blessing, as alice said, from their heavenly father--there came a lady up the road towards them. she was walking very slowly along, with her parasol shielding her face, so that it was quite concealed from the children; but alice knew her dress, and ran quickly to meet her, crying joyously, "it is miss mason, dear lolly!" maddie ran into the cottage and hid behind the door, like a foolish little girl; but lolly sat still, very glad that the good teacher was coming to speak to her, yet trembling with a sort of nervous fear; because she was a shy little girl, and so seldom saw strangers. she wondered that alice dared go so fearlessly up and walk along, with her hand in miss mason's hand, and her face upturned towards the lady's, while she talked as freely as if it had been herself or maddie listening. but when miss mason stood by the step and stooped down to kiss her sunburned cheek, and said sweetly, "so this is your little friend lolly, is it, alice?" she did not wonder any longer; for her heart leaped to meet the gentle lady, and she could not take her eyes from such a kind and loving face. "where's maddie?" asked miss mason, with a smile. she could see her peeping through the crack of the door; and, understanding the case, she said carelessly,-"i suppose she will join us by-and-by. we will sit here and read in alice's book until she comes, and then i want to talk to you. alice told me you lived here, lolly, and i want you to go to the sunday-school. we are very happy there, are we not, alice?" alice answered with a beaming face, and she and lolly sat, one on each side of the teacher, and listened as she read to them from god's holy word. she read first about the creation of this beautiful world, and the garden where adam and eve were placed; and, when she had made lolly and maddie understand all about how sin came--for maddie, attracted by the sweet voice and pleasant manner, had crept softly from her hiding-place and curled herself upon the step behind the lady--miss mason turned to the new testament and read to them a few verses about jesus, who took upon himself our nature and suffered for our sins. the children were much impressed by the story of the saviour's sufferings and death; and when the teacher told them that every naughty word and deed of theirs was like a nail in the saviour's feet or hands, they felt that they would never again do a wicked thing. then she told them how impossible it would be for them to keep from sin without god's continual help; and she taught them how to look up to him and ask for his aid and blessing. and when she had made sure that they could say a short prayer, and had obtained a promise from them that they would go every sunday to the sunday-school, she kissed them all three very affectionately, and went on to search for others of her heavenly father's wandering children. "when she had gone quite out of sight, and they were taking another good look at the changed rooms, that seemed so grand to them all, lolly said thoughtfully to alice,-"do you think the great king will like to come here now?" "he _is_ here," said alice reverently. "don't you feel it, lolly? we never see him, you know, as we see each other; but we feel that he is near, just as you feel that your mother is in the room even when the darkness hides her from your eyes." lolly repeated the little prayer softly, "o my heavenly father, i will try to love thee. wilt thou not come unto me, and be with me wherever i am, and help me to be thy child?" and, as she said the words, she knew that god was with her, and that from that hour there was a presence in the house that would drive away all the gloom, and make such brightness as filled the cottage of her little friend. it was time for alice to go; but she lingered a little while longer to teach maddie how to prepare the supper, so that when her mother came home weary from her labour, there might be no more hard work for her to do, but real comfort and rest. "now, don't get tired of housekeeping," said she, as she tied on her sunbonnet to go. "i shall run over some day to see how you get on; and i'm sure it's so much prettier to be sweet, and clean, and tidy, that you'll love to keep the house nice." and away she tripped to make things pleasant for her own dear, hard-working mother. sunny little girl! she knew how many tiresome steps her diligent hands and loving heart could save her poor widowed mother; and in everything she did there was a tender thought of the warm heart against which her infant head had lain when her little feet and hands were weak and helpless. she was glad now that they had grown strong to aid, that she could give back some of the care and effort. alice never dreamed of growing impatient in her mother's service. she did not wait to be asked to help her, but watched for opportunities, and so proved a great blessing and treasure in the lowly cottage home, that would have been very dismal and sad without her sunny, buoyant little body. chapter viii. peter rand and his wife came lagging up the road as the sun was setting. they had passed an uncommonly laborious day, and were completely tired out with their toil. they were very silent, and were thinking what a sad, miserable home was theirs, and how little of cheer they had in life. nothing seemed bright to them, although the earth was like a paradise for greenness and fragrance and beauty. as they drew near the house, mr. rand was very much surprised by the great change in the outward aspect of the place. he could scarcely believe that he had not mistaken the road, and come to some other cottage than the slovenly one that he had left in the morning. his wife, intent upon the supper that her hungry appetite craved, had pressed forward in haste to prepare it. as she entered the door, however, she started back with the strange feeling that she was in the house of some neighbour; but pug, the little dog, ran frisking about her, and convinced her that is was indeed her own house. the table was set in the middle of the room, and the dishes were arranged in nice order; and just in the centre was lolly's pewter mug, with a bunch of sweet, blue violets to grace it all. there was the savoury odour of the baking cake from the fire, and the fumes of the steeping tea filled the room, and already gave a sense of refreshing to the weary work-people. the rags were taken from the windows, and square bits of paper were pinned over the openings; and the floor was neat and clean, and the beautiful green boughs hung upon the walls, and the children sat, with clean hands and faces, awaiting the return of father and mother. they looked so bright and happy that the weary couple quite forgot their fatigue, and chatted merrily over their pleasant meal, praising the children for their thoughtful work, and saying they didn't believe there was a more beautiful home in the world than theirs. altogether, it was a very happy evening. maddie and lolly made their father and mother sit down quietly while they cleared off the table, and washed the dishes, and swept the crumbs away; and then they all had a cozy little time, talking of new hopes and plans. for the change was so comfortable that it put life and spirits into every soul; and the father said he would get some glass and putty and mend the windows; and the mother would make some white curtains, and the children would get evergreen and form it into wreaths to loop them up. oh, it takes so little to make a cheerful, happy home! it is only the idle and vicious that need be really miserable. if god does not always give us plenty of money, he furnishes us with so many rich things in this world of his, that we may adorn even a lowly and barren place until it shall appear richer than the gayest palace. maddie and lolly found this out through alice; and every day they hunted the woods for mosses and flowers, and their father made little shelves to put them on, and formed many a pretty seat of twisted branches of trees; so that by-and-by their cottage was one of the prettiest places anywhere around, and attracted the notice of everybody that passed it. miss mason came very often, now that she had found them out; and she not only prevailed on the parents to send their children to sunday-school, but they themselves went regularly to church, and tried to serve the great and holy god who had put it into the hearts of their children to make their earthly place of abode something akin to the better home. so soon as they began to feel the presence of the heavenly king, all the despondency and gloom vanished, and, even though poor and hard-working, they were happy in the possession of such riches as nothing but the love and favour of our heavenly father can give. chapter ix. it was not very long after the children learned to look away from earth to the blest abode beyond the skies, when lolly began to droop and grow weak and listless; and, although her parents and maddie thought it was but a trifling illness, she herself felt that her father was about to call her home. she was not afraid to die; and, when she grew so languid that her little feet lost the power to take her to the sunday-school, miss mason and alice and the kind minister came often to talk to her of her approaching joy. there was one beautiful little story that the minister used to tell her over and over again, she liked it so much. i do not know whether he made it, or whether he got it from some book; but i want to tell it to you, for i like it as well as lolly did. it is this:--"there was a bright, beautiful butterfly that was about to die. she had laid her eggs on a cabbage-leaf in the garden; and, as she thought of her children, she said to a caterpillar that was crawling upon the leaf, 'i am going to die. i feel my strength fast failing, and i want you to take care of my little ones.' "the caterpillar promised, and the butterfly folded her wings and breathed her last. "then the caterpillar did not know what to do. she wanted some instruction with regard to her charge: so she thought she would ask a lark, that went soaring up into the blue sky. at first the lark was silent, and plumed his wings and went up--up--up, as if to gather wisdom for his answer; and then he came, singing, down and said,-"'i'll tell you something about your charge; but you won't believe me. these young butterflies that you look for will become caterpillars.' "'poh! poh!' said the old caterpillar. 'i don't believe a word of it.' "'no; i told you you wouldn't. and what do you suppose they will live upon?' said the lark. "'why, the dew and the sweet honey from the flowers, to be sure,' replied the caterpillar. 'that is what all butterflies live on.' "'they won't, indeed,' said the lark. 'they will eat cabbage-leaves.' and he went soaring away again into the clear heavens. "presently, back he came and said to the caterpillar,-"'i'll tell you something stranger still about yourself. you'll be a beautiful butterfly.' "the caterpillar laughed at the idea; but, as she turned around and saw the eggs upon the leaf all hatched into little crawling caterpillars, she was forced to believe what the lark had said concerning herself; and she went about as happy as could be, telling everybody what a glorious change would come to her after she had folded herself in her close chrysalis." the minister told lolly that this caterpillar in the chrysalis was like us worms of the dust when lying in the narrow grave enshrouded in our death-robes; and that, like as the caterpillar bursts his darksome bonds and soars away upon butterfly pinions, so shall we come forth from the tomb on the resurrection day, and with angel-wings mount upward to the world of light and peace. then he read a few verses to her from that beautiful account of the rising from the dead, in the fifteenth chapter of the first epistle to the corinthians. lolly would lie upon her sick-bed and fasten her earnest eyes upon him as he read and as he spoke so sweetly to her of the other life; and then she would look away through the open window to the heavens above, and seem to see the face of her father, who was drawing her slowly to himself. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 41097-h.htm or 41097-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41097/41097-h/41097-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41097/41097-h.zip) transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original book have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). the sentence "he had been very lonesome for him.", starting on page 103, may be missing words. mary lee the red cross girl by helen hart illustrated by alice carsey whitman publishing co. racine ·· chicago copyright 1917 by whitman publishing co. racine ·· chicago dedicated to jane r. who makes an ideal red cross girl in the opinion of the author contents chapter page i. spring at the farm 15 ii. welcome guests 21 iii. a merry party 29 iv. first aid 37 v. mary lee writes a letter 43 vi. a picnic 52 vii. visiting the sanitarium 63 viii. preparations for the wedding 69 ix. dr. payson employs mary lee 76 x. aunt madge is married 83 xi. busy days 89 xii. indian jim's lucky strike 100 xiii. a happy red cross group 112 xiv. mary lee meets an old friend 118 xv. mary lee's legacy 125 xvi. a master story teller 132 xvii. aunt madge returns to the city 147 xviii. mary lee makes a decision 155 xix. letty and mary lee sell liberty bonds 162 xx. preparing for red cross work 169 xxi. "what shall we wear?" 175 xxii. working for "liberty" 182 xxiii. back on the farm 190 xxiv. bound for the camp 196 xxv. lost in the woods 204 xxvi. returning home 211 xxvii. another adventure 215 xxviii. "help! help!" 219 xxix. letty's surprise 228 illustrations page mary lee learned quickly and thoroughly (color frontispiece) "the girls miss you so much" 25 mary lee came tripping down the road 39 the sick man dictates a letter 49 bob makes himself useful at the picnic 55 savage was the face of black eagle 137 he made it a point to call on mary lee 151 mary lee writes to bob 185 "have you come to stay?" 188 mary lee, the red cross girl mary lee the red cross girl chapter i spring at the farm "from whom is the letter, mary lee?" asked mrs. quinn as she glanced up from her sewing. "from bobbie, and he says that they will land about the 15th. he wants to come right out here to the country to see our cozy new home. oh, dear, i can hardly wait to see him!" exclaimed mary lee, her eyes sparkling. "does he say that the french doctors have helped him any?" further questioned mrs. quinn. "helped him any?" repeated mary lee, "why, he's cured. he isn't a cripple any more at all. just think, he can walk again, as well as i can. isn't it a lovely world?" and the impetuous child threw her arms about mrs. quinn's neck and gave her a good hug. just then a voice from the outside called: "oh, mary lee, come quick. we've found something to show you." it was eddie quinn, the youngest boy, and mary lee upon hearing his excited voice, lost no time in rushing out to see what new delight was in store for her. mrs. quinn leaned back in her comfortable chair in the sunny south bay window, and as her eyes wandered about the cheerful room and out over the peaceful woodland view, her thoughts flashed back to the past. how different things were now from what they had been when mary lee--the little waif from the orphanage--had first come into their home as a mother's helper! they were then living in the crowded tenement district of new york city. how much sickness they had had! how often her husband had been thrown out of work! if it hadn't been for hopeful little mary lee they all would have lost courage. she put her little shoulder to the wheel with such determination that it seemed as if her efforts had pulled them out of the dreadful rut into which they were gradually sinking. yes, mary lee was always doing something for somebody. how brave she was the day she had saved bob cameron from drowning in central park! he was a little crippled boy who lived in one of the stately mansions on fifth avenue. a strong friendship, encouraged by bob's grateful parents, had sprung up between the two children. it had meant much to mary lee. her narrow little life began to broaden out--and consequently so did that of the quinns. bob's aunt madge had taken a great fancy to mary lee and had made it possible for her to become a campfire girl. then there was dear doctor anderson. he had operated on mrs. quinn when she had been so ill. seeing earnest little mary lee doing her best to help this worthy but unfortunate family along, he too had become interested. it was he who had made it possible for them to move out in the country where they could live on his farm. mr. quinn had shown his gratitude by proving himself a most capable manager the past year. was it any wonder as mrs. quinn sat thinking over all these things that a tear or two trickled down her cheeks? but it was not from sadness--for her heart was filled with the joy of living, and overflowing with love for mary lee, the little girl who had brought good fortune and sunshine into her home. in the meantime, tom and eddie had led mary lee over to a low-branched tree to behold their "surprise." "it's a nest," whispered eddie. "a real nest. see, it's just new!" "so it is," said mary lee. "what a cozy little home! but where do you suppose father bird and mother bird are? did we frighten them away?" "no," said eddie, "it was empty when we first saw it. but let's hide and maybe they will come back." "oh no," said mary lee, "let's go away before they return. if they suspected anyone was around they might move their nest. won't it be fun when we can see the little bird's eggs, and afterwards the little birdies themselves? but you must not tell anyone about this nest, will you? now promise," commanded mary lee. both boys promised. they also agreed not to look at their nest more than once a day. "now, see who wins the race to your father over there in the field," challenged mary lee. "one, two, three, go!" the children were off. tom won the race. "huh," said he, "i wouldn't let any girl beat me." "well, you wait until next time and maybe you will change your mind," answered mary lee. "have you come to help, children?" mr. quinn greeted them. while the boys assisted their father, mary lee returned to the house. as she came to the kitchen door, she thought she heard voices. then as she opened the door and went through the kitchen, she heard mrs. quinn say: "she will be here any moment. won't she be glad to see you both!" mary lee just jumped into the room, for she guessed who the visitors were. "aunt madge and dr. anderson--i'm so happy!" and the girl ran into miss cameron's arms. chapter ii welcome guests "my," said aunt madge, "how you are growing, mary lee. i never knew you to look so well and so pretty. who said country life would not agree with our mary lee?" "not i, for one," replied dr. anderson, as if the question were directed at him. "my own candid opinion is that, no matter what the place might be, if it had any idea of not agreeing with the young lady it would very soon change its mind. things simply cannot help but agree with mary lee!" "surely, it isn't because she's idle," added mrs. quinn. "you never saw anyone so busy and so anxious to do so many things. if i were to let her have her way, miss cameron, i would be sitting in my rocker all day with my arms folded." then mrs. quinn bethought herself of her duties as hostess. "surely, you are counting on staying for supper, such as it is, i hope?" both visitors laughed. "we certainly are, mrs. quinn. we half suspected you would ask us," answered dr. anderson, with a twinkle in his eye. "although i will confess that miss cameron had some scruples about coming at this hour." "yes," said that young lady, "it does look as if we were just forcing ourselves upon you, doesn't it?" "nonsense," replied mrs. quinn decidedly. "if you folks are not welcome here at all times, nobody is. but i had better start supper, if you will excuse me?" "certainly," said the doctor. "in the meantime i shall go down to the field to talk things over with mr. quinn. i suppose you will accept our invitation to go out in the automobile after supper, mary lee? we thought you and mrs. quinn would like a ride." "like it," enthusiastically replied the girl, "i'd love it." "it's nice of you to include me and i shall be glad to go," added mrs. quinn on her way to the kitchen. "i suspect you two have more than a few things to talk about and are waiting for me to follow mrs. quinn's excellent example," said the doctor, making for the door. "indeed we are," replied aunt madge laughingly. "mary lee and i are going to have a perfectly splendid chat." the two friends did visit for many minutes, but mary lee did not seem to be quite at ease. she wanted to stay and talk with aunt madge, yet she felt it was her duty to set the table and help mrs. quinn. aunt madge must have guessed what she was thinking about for she suddenly spoke up. "i know what's on your mind, mary lee, you dear, conscientious child. come, we'll both help set the table, shall we?" "do you really want to do that?" asked mary lee delightedly. "yes, i would like to very much," answered aunt madge. it took but a little while to set the table and complete the rest of the necessary work. it was done with many laughs and much enjoyment. when the two were through they entered the kitchen and insisted on helping mrs. quinn. but that lady shooed them out and would have none of them. "be off with you. you have time for a fifteen minute walk." "shall we?" asked aunt madge. and without waiting for an answer, she was off, mary lee at her side. they could not have wanted the walk very much, for when they sighted the big oak which was but a little way down the road, they made themselves comfortable beneath it. they were really anxious to have a heart to heart talk and this was just the place for it. "well, my dear, you can now ask me all the questions that are stored up in that little mind of yours. i shall try my best to answer them." mary lee needed no second invitation. she fairly swamped aunt madge with her deluge of questions. [illustration: "the girls miss you so much."] "how are the campfire girls, aunt madge? did they tell you when they were coming out here? didn't ruth and edith and letty send any messages with you? have you heard the wonderful news that bobbie and mr. and mrs. cameron are coming home at last? and, aunt madge--" but aunt madge laughed and interrupted the girl at this point. "wait, wait, mary lee. i guess i had better call a halt to your questions else i will not have time to answer them all before supper. yes, the campfire girls asked me to be sure to give you their love and to tell you that they miss you ever so much. letty and ruth and edith are coming out for next saturday and sunday so they did not send any message. in fact, my dear, they thought at first that they would not tell you at all and just surprise you. but they could not keep the secret and so they allowed me to tell you. are you glad?" "glad," replied mary lee, with glistening eyes. "that means they will be here in two days." "yes. and now as to the last question. i do know that the camerons are coming home, although i heard the news only yesterday. isn't it marvelous that bobbie is cured and will be just like other boys?" "now, my dear, i am going to tell you a piece of news which may startle you." aunt madge paused a moment as she felt the telltale blushes mounting to her cheeks. "doctor anderson and i are to be married next september on the eighteenth." mary lee beamed. "my--" was all that she could say. then the two, like silly little school girls, spent a few minutes in embraces, tears and kisses. "i'm so glad, so glad," said mary lee after she had somewhat recovered. "i just know how happy you both are. and, aunt madge, dr. anderson is a dear and i love him almost as much as i love you." "well, don't you ever love him more than you do me." aunt madge pretended to be very stern as she shook her finger warningly at mary lee. "i don't think i could do that," said mary lee, very seriously. "where are you going to live when you are married?" she questioned, still filled with the wonder of the news. "we are building a dear little home and it promises to look wonderfully lovely. my dear, you are to come and stay with us, ever so many times. you will, won't you, mary lee?" "i certainly will," said mary lee, decidedly. "it will be like home to me." aunt madge embraced the girl again. "you are such a comfort, little girl. and now, i think it is almost time to turn back," she suggested, after a silence of many minutes. "i hope we shall not be late for supper." they made their way back to the house. it was not a moment too soon, for as they approached they could hear the vigorous summons of the supper bell which was being sturdily wielded by tom. they ran the last hundred yards and arrived at the house out of breath. chapter iii a merry party dr. anderson and mr. quinn were already in the dining room, having arrived a few minutes earlier. they were still busily talking when aunt madge and mary lee entered. mr. quinn had completed his report of the work that had been done at the farm and was enthusiastic about the prospects for the coming summer and fall. the arrival of the newcomers halted the conversation. the doctor looked toward his fiancee inquiringly, and she nodded gayly to him, whereupon he grinned boyishly at mary lee and she smiled back at him. "well, mary lee, now that you know the secret, we can tell the rest of the folks," and he immediately proceeded to do so. mr. and mrs. quinn were delighted and their good wishes were cordial and sincere. they were very fond of these two friends and they felt they owed much to them. mixed with their gratefulness and appreciation was the glad feeling that this romance had been partly cemented through them and through their mary lee. "madge, dear," said dr. anderson, as they sat at the table partaking of the excellent and well-cooked supper. "mr. quinn has done splendid work here, but i cannot get him to admit that he works too hard." "i hope it will be the means of his making lots of money," replied miss cameron. "i'm glad he shares in the profits due to his labor and good management. dear, you were extremely fortunate to find so good a manager." "that i was," affirmed the doctor. but mrs. quinn couldn't see it that way. "fortunate, you fortunate? why, it's we who have to bless our lucky stars for being here." mr. quinn nodded his head very decidedly in confirmation. "that is the truth, friends," he said. "my wife finds it a real delight to live out here, and you know, work is never hard or arduous when one is in love with it. moreover, it's just the place for the children and for mary lee, too." the doctor turned to the latter. "i suppose you know, young lady, that you are to come to the city this fall and enter high school. both mr. and mrs. quinn know of it and have agreed that it is the thing for you to do." mary lee turned her happy, joyful face first toward dr. anderson and then toward aunt madge and mr. and mrs. quinn. "and if i go," she spoke slowly as if she were realizing what it all meant, "i shall be with ruth and letty and the other girls and i can be at the campfire girls' meetings and see bobbie and, oh, ever so many other things, can't i?" then her face clouded suddenly. "but won't mrs. quinn need me here?" she asked. "oh, i'm sure she will, and it's wicked for me to think of anything else. and anyway, i love it here, so much." "i'll not need you, my dear, except for your smiles and cheerfulness," said mrs. quinn from the kitchen. "you can just make up your mind you are going." and mrs. quinn spoke very decidedly. "you see," added aunt madge, "you really need the schooling. you are getting older and there are things you must learn and which you cannot acquire except in school. you must have an education to get on in the world." "by the way," interrupted the doctor, "has mary lee ever thought of what she is going to be when she grows up?" everyone in the room looked at the girl expectantly. "when i grow up," said mary lee, speaking in a way which showed she had made up her mind long ago, "i am going to be a nurse--a red cross nurse. in the meantime i am going to be a red cross girl." "why, of course," replied the doctor. "i remember now you did say last year that you wanted to be a nurse when you grew older. isn't it fortunate," he continued, "that i can help you because i am a physician. we will certainly give you lots of chances to become a good nurse and in the meantime you can learn much as 'mary lee, our red cross girl.'" "why, that's fine," said aunt madge enthusiastically, while the boys clapped their hands, and mr. and mrs. quinn both smiled proudly. "and," added aunt madge, "what mary lee has learned in the way of first aid to the injured as a campfire girl, will help her materially to be a good and capable red cross girl." mary lee just beamed. she was too happy to speak but her looks expressed her feelings. a very quiet though determined voice now spoke up. "i'm going to be a farmer boy, and when i grow up i'm going to be a farmer-man, just like father." it was eddie, the younger of the two boys. "why, of course," agreed the doctor, after the laugh was over, and looking at mr. quinn, who was smiling with great pride. "and i hope you will make as good a farmer as your father, eddie. and, tom, what are you going to be when you grow up?" tom spoke bashfully but yet none the less decisively. "i'm going to be a real sailor and go all over the world." "that's splendid, tom," said aunt madge. "yes, tom," added the doctor. "there are a lot of sailors-to-be until they reach the age of ten, so you won't be lonely." the merry supper party was now over. aunt madge insisted upon helping to clear the table and to dry the dishes. while the three were busily at work, dr. anderson and mr. quinn went out on the porch, to smoke. for a few moments the men puffed away in silence. then mr. quinn resumed the subject they had been discussing before supper. "you say you are having an investigation made, doctor?" "yes, mr. quinn. mr. cameron left instructions to do so before he went to europe. some day we may know who mary lee's parents were. i feel sure of that." "i hope so," answered the older man. "she has done so much for other folks, i hope we shall be able to do something worth while for her." mr. quinn continued after a pause. "do you know, dr. anderson, the child has absolute faith that some day she and her relations, those that are still alive, will be reunited?" "if that's the case, i think it would not be wise to let mary lee know anything of the search that is being made because something might turn up to shatter her hopes." mr. quinn nodded understandingly. a few minutes later, the ladies came out on the porch. the boys had already gone to their room as was their usual custom. "are we all ready for our ride?" the doctor asked. aunt madge nodded. they invited mr. quinn to join them, but he had some last duties to perform and he wanted to retire early. so he bade the guests good-night. the next minute the machine was gliding down the road. chapter iv first aid high above, the sun beat down relentlessly. not a breath of air stirred. there was the sleepy droning of the everlasting insects, the number of which seemed always magnified at such a time. there had been no rain for many a day. the dust was thick along the roads. now and then a passing automobile left an instant's breeze to be more than paid for in the swirl of dust. a solitary figure was scuffling along wearily. a casual glance marked him as a knight of the road, a tramp. but if you had stopped to observe a little more closely, you would have noted that he was not of that type, unkempt and bedraggled though he appeared. he had stopped at the last house on the road and then, after no little hesitation, had asked for a drink of water. he had rested for a few minutes--then he had gone on. the people in the house had noticed his obvious weariness and had asked him if he did not wish to rest. but the evident and simple kindness of the woman, who was mrs. quinn, had seemingly embarrassed the man. "thank you kindly, ma'am," he had replied huskily, "but i must be on my way." and so he had trudged wearily on. every move on this hot, breezeless day was an ache, as if he were stepping on live and tender nerves. he had been able to make but one half mile in an hour. then nature could do no more--and with a sigh, he had fallen to the ground. the heat had proved his master. along the road from the village which was two miles from the house where he had stopped, came mary lee. for her the heat had no terrors. there was beauty in this day, hot and merciless though it had seemed but a little while before. and, as you traveled with her, you also partook of the joy she received from nature, because, whatever its guise, it was nature nevertheless. [illustration: mary lee came tripping down the road] it was months since dr. anderson and aunt madge had visited her. letty and ruth had come almost every other week after that first spring visit. she had seen bob, too, almost the day after he had arrived from abroad. with him had come his mother and his father. it had been a wonderful summer for mary lee. how her heart rejoiced at the sight of bob, who had gotten out of the auto a little way down the road so that mary lee, who had been his playmate and friend, could see him walk up the road, no longer crippled but like other boys. bob had stayed over for a few days. mr. and mrs. cameron had been greatly pleased with mary lee. they were surprised at the way she had grown and admired the tanned cheeks and the clear eyes. bobbie was to come out again at the end of july and a few days later ruth and edith and letty were to come. and while all of them were at the farm, aunt madge and dr. anderson would drive out. as mary lee came tripping down the road, some of the joy in her was for the days to come. she was not only thinking of the coming of her friends but also of september when she would join these friends in the city and be as one of them. a spirit of gratefulness mingled with her other emotions as she thought of the rapid changes that had taken place in the short time she had been out of the orphanage. "some day," she said very softly, "i am going to make my friends very proud that they are my friends." it never occurred to this simple, lovely little girl, that she had already given them cause for their pride in the mutual friendship. "when bob and the girls come we can visit the sanitarium. if we can only get dr. anderson to go with us he can explain things to us and in that way we can learn so much more. then, too, we can have real campfires and meetings and bobbie can visit us as a boy scout." so her mind planned it all, as she hastened along. there was no need for hurrying, but it was never in the nature of this girl to move slowly. but often she stopped along the road for there were many things that drew her interest. "you poor things," she said to some dry and withered looking ferns along the way. "i shall practice being a real red cross girl with you." she hurried into the woods somewhat farther down the road and from a brooklet brought some water with which to give the ferns new life. this act set her to dreaming of her future when she would be a red cross nurse and of dr. anderson who was to give her the opportunity to gain the necessary experience. it was great work to relieve and cure the sick. then across her line of vision came a blurred form which she could not make out. she hurried forward. as she neared it she saw the body of a man lying prone upon the ground. for one moment there was a scared, helpless feeling within the girl. there was a great sinking in her heart. she seemed very small, very helpless. then from somewhere within her a small voice whispered: "mary lee, you are a red cross girl." chapter v mary lee writes a letter mary lee could never remember how she managed to place the unconscious form of the man against the tree so that the branches would afford some shade and protection from the sun's merciless heat. from the gate at which she was standing and from where she was searching the road for mary lee's return, mrs. quinn saw the girl running. she noticed her excitement and so hurried forward to meet her. "what is it, dear? what has happened?" she questioned anxiously. mary lee told her. from the account, mrs. quinn judged that the man had had an attack of sunstroke. she calmed the excited girl and immediately went about obtaining the necessary ice to use on the stricken man. the girl found good use for a first aid book which had been presented to her at one of the campfire meetings. from it she learned that mustard on the nape of the neck or the forehead would help to bring a person back to consciousness. she immediately went into the kitchen and procured some. mr. quinn was not about and so the two, mrs. quinn with the ice and mary lee with the mustard, hurried to the unconscious man, first sending tom after mr. quinn to bring the carriage to them. they found him still unconscious. mary lee applied the ice and then put a plentiful supply of the mustard upon the nape of the man's neck. then both watched anxiously for signs of a return to consciousness. it seemed hours before there was a flicker of returning life; as a matter of fact, it was less than ten minutes. when mr. quinn arrived with the carriage the man had regained consciousness, but he was obviously quite weak. "i think we had better take him to the sanitarium," said mary lee, "they will know what to do there." mrs. quinn agreed. she returned home, her husband driving toward the sanitarium, mary lee on the rear seat holding the man's head and applying the ice. the drive was over two miles and during almost all of that time, the sick man was either too weak to speak or lacked the inclination to do so. as they turned into the driveway which led to the hospital, he spoke in a low, weak voice: "i'm sorry to give you all this trouble, young lady. it is a misfortune for me as well as for all of you." then he paused for a second either through weakness or as if debating something in his mind. "i wonder if i can impose on your goodness a little more?" he asked as the carriage stopped at the entrance and mr. quinn went inside to speak to the proper authorities. "could you come and see me in the morning? i must have something attended to tomorrow and i suppose," he continued wanly and with the ghost of a smile, "i shall have to stay here at least that long." "i shall be glad to come," answered mary lee. "please do not worry. i am sure that it will be but a day or two before you are up and about again." an interne and two orderlies now came out of the hospital door with a stretcher. they carried the sick man into the emergency ward but would not allow either mr. quinn or mary lee to follow. they were told that they would probably be allowed to visit in the morning. but the man's case was evidently quite serious. mary lee called the next day and was informed that the patient had a high temperature and that it was impossible to permit any visitors. she was not allowed to see him until the fourth day. it worried her because of her promise and the man's evident anxiety to have the "something" attended to at once. on the fourth day, she was informed that the man was still weak but had insisted on seeing her. the nurse who spoke to her warned her not to stay too long. even as she opened the door she felt the surcharged eagerness of the man. he wasted no time in any greetings. "the doctor tells me i cannot hope to leave here for at least another week. he claims it is under-nourishment more than the heat." he rested a moment. "my name is tom marshall," he continued slowly. "i was on my way home from mexico where i have been for many years. about two months ago, i remember the day so well, the home of my mother and father and of my early youth seemed to be calling to me in a way i could not resist. i had been away from it for over fifteen years and not once before that time had i been homesick or felt the desire to go home. but the new feeling was such that a little boy feels--i wanted my mother more than anything else in the world. "my partner and i have a mine down there. we think it is a silver mine, but so far it has been hard to pinch anything out of it and we have found it a difficult matter even to exist. my partner is an indian but he would shame many white men. i have never known a squarer, whiter man. he found the mine. we both feel it is certain to make good some day. "enough of that, except to say that i went to him and told him how i felt. he insisted that i make the trip home. together, we scraped up enough money to bring me back about half the distance. i wrote home, the first letter i had written, i am ashamed to say, in four years. i told mother that i was coming home and to write me to st. louis care of the general delivery." the man paused again. he was watching the girl. he seemed to regain strength. "i suppose you wonder why i tell you all this. you will soon see. at st. louis a letter was waiting for me. it was from my cousin, not from my mother. i learned that father had died three years ago and that my mother was very sick. she had been overjoyed at the news that i was coming. but my cousin advised me to hasten my return, as he considered my mother's condition extremely serious. "i got as far as this by freight train, my money having given out at st. louis. the headway was slow and yet i could not stop to earn the money to travel any other way. i have had very little food, how little i had i never stopped to consider. my one desire has been to get home." [illustration: the sick man dictates a letter] "you see," the man continued in an eager way, "it seems that all the desire to see mother that i should have had all these years is crowded into the present. i had figured on cutting through to the river and stowing myself in one of the boats which would bring me nearer home; but the heat and the lack of food were too much for me, and here i am." the man paused once more. mary lee wondered if she were not staying too long; if the man were not going past his strength. yet he seemed anxious to complete what he had to say. "i have prayed that my mother live till i reach home. i want her to know that i am delayed. will you please write my cousin? tell him that i am very near and that i shall soon be well enough, but that he must not tell mother about my illness, just that i am surely coming. he must also let me know at once how she is. "you see, young lady, i cannot write myself just now, as the doctors think i am still too weak. i wanted this letter written four days ago. i am sure you will write understandingly. will you do it for me?" "i shall be very glad to," answered mary lee. "i am going to ask your cousin to telegraph regarding your mother's condition." the man nodded as if too spent to talk further. he handed mary lee a crumpled slip of paper on which was written the address for the letter. chapter vi a picnic ten days later found tom marshall home. the telegram had come from his cousin stating that the condition of his mother was unchanged. mary lee had told the quinns of the case and mr. quinn had paid a visit to the sick man. he had talked to him for a little while and convinced as to the truth of the man's story, had offered to lend him the money which would take him home. marshall had returned the money with a letter of thanks immediately upon his arrival home. now the end of july had come. letty and ruth and bob all came from the city on the same train. there was a delightful meeting at the town depot, and much happy, excited chattering on the part of the girls. on the way home, mary lee said: "i have planned a picnic lunch for this afternoon. i know a lovely spot and then we can take a long walk afterwards." "i'll tell you what," said bob. "if we could get some steak or chops i would give you the best eating you ever had. father showed me how campers cook." that sounded exciting to the girls. it meant, of course, stopping off at the village general store which in itself was a novelty. mary lee telephoned mrs. quinn and obtained permission to make the purchases. but bob insisted that the buying of the chops was his part of the party and insisted so strongly that he won his point. they drove home and when they passed the spot where mary lee had discovered the unconscious tom marshall she showed the place to her friends and told them the story. "my, but you were brave, mary lee," said letty admiringly. "i would have been so frightened i would have fainted." the guests helped in the preparation for the picnic as did tom and eddie who had also been invited so that bob wouldn't feel it was a girls' affair. besides, mary lee knew how much they would like it. it was after midday before they started on the picnic, and more than a half hour later before they reached their destination. it was truly a pleasant spot. a brook was running nearby and the trees grew so closely together that they formed a regular bower. the girls were so delighted that they immediately decided to use the place for all future meetings and named it campfire nook. in the meantime bob and eddie were hunting for a large flat rock on which to fry the chops, while tom gathered wood. "did you girls bring any matches?" suddenly asked ruth. letty looked at mary lee, who in turn looked blank. "of course, we need matches for a fire," added letty. "i'll warrant you bob forgot all about them too." it struck the girls as a great joke, even though they were beginning to be hungry. they decided that they would not say anything to bob until he had everything ready and realized for himself that there were no matches with which to start the fire. [illustration: bob makes himself useful at the picnic] when eddie and bob returned the girls said nothing about forgetting the matches, but waited to see the fun. but bob fooled them. he brought forth some matches from his pocket and lighted the fire in the approved way. "did you have them all the time?" asked letty, somewhat crestfallen. "why, of course," answered bob as if he could never forget so important a thing, when, as a matter of fact, he had only recalled that he would need matches at the last moment. as soon as the big flat stone eddie found had been cleaned and heated in the fire, the chops were well seasoned and placed upon it. the meat smelled and looked so appetizing that the girls stopped their own preparations to watch it cook. bob turned the chops with a would-be fork which he had made from a small branch, and soon the first supply was ready. "isn't bob clever, to be able to do this?" said mary lee as she ate her chop. "aren't they delicious?" commented letty, while ruth nodded in assent. the boys were even more enthusiastic and everyone took a second helping. it made bob very happy to have his experiment turn out so successfully. in addition to the chops there were delightful sandwiches, and mrs. quinn had furnished some delicious fruit and fresh cake. after lunch was over, the girls sat about anxious to have a talk. bob, eddie and tom thought they would like to investigate the source of the brook and so they were off. "aren't you excited about aunt madge being married, mary lee?" asked letty. "yes," added ruth, "and i know who are to be the bridesmaids." if ruth expected that this information would cause a commotion, she was not a bit disappointed. "you do?" queried letty. "can you tell us?" asked mary lee. ruth pretended she did not hear them, having found something on one of the trees which interested her. letty and mary lee laughingly and excitedly surrounded her, urging her to give them the information. "won't you tell us?" repeated mary lee coaxingly. "oh, it isn't a secret," answered ruth, "and i can tell you." "well," said letty decidedly, "i know that you and mary lee will be two of the bridesmaids." "there are some things you do know, letty," said ruth teasingly. "then there are other things you do not know." "i know i am not to be one of them," remarked mary lee. she meant it, too. there were so many nice girls who would naturally be chosen before her. "but i am sure that letty will be one. i just feel sure of that," she added. "well, there are some things you also know, but there are many things you do not," answered ruth trying hard to be evasive. mary lee and letty sprang up to encircle ruth and compel her to give them the news, but the latter was just as quick in escaping them. mary lee, however, soon caught her and held her so that she could not move. "now, will you tell?" asked letty. "i was dying to tell all the time," replied ruth laughingly. "the bridesmaids will be--" and she paused. "i think i have forgotten." mischief was still in her eyes. letty pretended to be very threatening, while mary lee took a firmer hold. "oh, yes," continued ruth, "now i remember. they are to be edith--and, of course, you sillies, we are the other three." the conversation then changed to what they would wear, for to all of them the coming occasion was one of the most important of their lives. "what will you wear?" asked mary lee. she was excited over what the two friends intended to wear even though she knew that she herself would have to wear her party dress which was a simple little white organdie with a pink sash. she was thankful though she had a leghorn hat with pink streamers. her white canvas slippers with lisle stockings would have to do. "what do you girls think of my wearing my pink crepe-de-chine dress and my new pink hat with those pretty rosebuds and foliage encircling the crown, and pink slippers and stockings?" asked letty. "i know i am not going to be anywhere up to you, letty. i can only wear my white dress over pink china silk and a white hat with a very pale pink bow, and white buckskin slippers with white silk stockings," said ruth. "well, no matter what we may wear," said letty, "mary lee will be the prettiest of us all. tell us your plans, mary lee," she added. "mine are very simple, for it isn't hard to decide when you haven't many things to pick from," was the unembarrassed answer. "i haven't much else than my white organdie party dress." after discussing what they would wear at the wedding the girls next talked over their plans for school the coming fall. "the nicest part of it all is that you are to stay with me," said letty to mary lee. just then there was a shout from the boys who were on the other side of the brook, so the girls hurried forward to meet them. it was now after five o'clock and time to go home. bob and mary lee managed to walk along together. "well, bob," asked the girl, "what are you going to do this fall?" "i'm to go to the academy, father says. he wants me to mingle with other boys. i shall be glad to do so, too." "you and your father are great friends now, aren't you?" questioned mary lee. "we certainly are. dad's great and he teaches me many things," the boy replied. "i tell you, it's wonderful to be like other boys and be able to do what they do. it seems to me i will never cease marveling at it. do you know, mary lee," the boy continued, "both mother and father think just everything of you? father often says that your coming seemed to bring rays of sunshine into our house which have always stayed." the girl blushed. "how kind they are to say such delightful things," she exclaimed. "it is glorious to have such friends," she continued gratefully. letty and ruth joined them at this moment. the house was now but a little way down the road. both bob and mary lee were glad to have had this talk, short though it was. chapter vii visiting the sanitarium aunt madge and dr. anderson were to come out two days later. there was so much to do in these two days, however, that the time flew quickly. mary lee did not neglect her duties but with the help of her friends she was able to get through early so that most of the day was free. the first picnic lunch had been so successful that they had unanimously planned for another. there were, however, so many other things to do that it was put off for the arrival of the newcomers. dr. anderson brought his car and almost in the first moment of his arrival had made plans for a long ride, but mary lee reminded him of her plan to visit the sanitarium. "well, mary lee," he agreed good humoredly. "of course, it will be talking shop for me to take you youngsters through, but if that is what you wish, i will gladly do so." "suppose we take our ride later," suggested bob, who felt more at liberty to suggest than the others because aunt madge was his aunt and dr. anderson would soon be his uncle. "we could stay out late and you could return to town in the morning." aunt madge laughed. "it's not so easily planned as all that, but even then i think we can manage." dr. anderson telephoned the hospital as soon as they reached the house. he obtained permission almost at once to go through with his party. his business with mr. quinn was transacted in half an hour and so it was still quite early in the morning when they reached the hospital. it was a large institution which made a specialty of certain kinds of cases, but it also had an emergency ward. the doctor explained so thoroughly, yet so simply, to his listeners as they went through the operating rooms, etc., that they could not help having a good conception of the necessary treatment of the sick. in the midst of an explanation he saw mary lee's attention centered on a nurse who was taking the temperature of a patient. "yes, mary lee, that is what you will be doing some day. you have made a splendid choice of profession. it will take many years--there is much you must learn. i know," he continued, jestingly, "folks will be glad to get sick just so that they can have dr. anderson treat them and nurse mary lee take care of them." "it isn't going to take as many years as you think," loyally replied bob, taking up the cudgels, "for mary lee has already begun." and he told aunt madge and the doctor of tom marshall. to bob, because he was a boy, the part that had to do with the silver mine in mexico was important and so he dwelt upon it. "tom marshall told mary lee that he has a partner who is an indian and who is a whiter and squarer man than many white men," concluded the boy. for one moment, dr. anderson wondered at this last remark the boy had made. "an indian for a partner, eh?" he remarked. then he laughed at the foolishness of his thought. of course, there could be no connection between jim lee, the indian who had been a servant to mary lee's mother out west, and this indian bob had spoken about. "you didn't say what the indian's name was, did you?" he asked. mary lee answered, "no, i never thought to ask." "well, let's be on," dr. anderson said, casting away all thoughts and conjectures as to the possibilities along this line. "that was a good home remedy you applied to the man, mary lee," he continued, changing the subject by referring to the mustard the girl had applied for the sunstroke. it was long past the time for lunch when they left the hospital. probably mary lee learned more than any one of the others from this visit, for everything had been of such vital interest to her. she remembered much of what the doctor had told them. immediately after the late lunch which mrs. quinn had prepared for them they started out. the girls noticed with astonishment that aunt madge was driving the auto. "oh, yes," she replied in answer to their exclamations, "dr. anderson taught me. i find it easy to drive here in comparison with the city. it isn't hard," she added with all the certainty of one who has already learned. "tell you what, madge, dear, i'll teach one or two of these youngsters. shall i?" "what a fine idea," aunt madge replied, giving up her seat. neither letty nor ruth would attempt it, however. bob already knew, but mary lee welcomed the opportunity of learning. dr. anderson found her an apt pupil and after the first hour he let her drive the car alone, taking the precaution, of course, of keeping his foot on the emergency clutch. at the end of another half hour, the doctor replaced her and put on extra speed. the car whizzed along now. at four o'clock he found a suitable place and stopped. the whole party got out and made themselves comfortable. aunt madge broke the news of the girls' appointment as bridesmaids. "too bad, bob, you are not quite old enough, or i would make you my best man," said the doctor. "at any rate, i'll be there," the boy replied. but the girls were not listening. they were eagerly discussing their plans with aunt madge. the doctor and bob looked at them with much amusement and then walked down past the car and on. it was soon time to return, however. long after seven the party reached the house. neither aunt madge nor dr. anderson could stay over and they began their long trip home. the girls and bob were a tired, happy lot and retired almost at once. chapter viii preparations for the wedding at last september came. mary lee reached the city ready for school and her duties as bridesmaid. she had left the quinn home with mixed feeling; sadness at parting from such good friends and joy at the thought of entering new experiences; it was exhilarating to come to a turning point in life. for the quinns, however, mary lee's departure had brought only sorrow. they tried hard to be unselfish, to be glad for her sake. but they felt intuitively that she had gone for good, that she would never return, and their attempt to appear glad, if the truth must be told, was a sorry failure. mrs. cameron had taken it for granted that when mary lee came to the city, she would make her home with them, and ruth had hopes of having her stay at her house. letty, however, had insistently claimed that mary lee should stay with her. in fact, mary lee had been letty's guest the very first night. considerable debate came up the second day over this question, when mary lee and letty had called for ruth and the three had made a call on mrs. cameron. dr. anderson had been a luncheon guest and was still there when the girls arrived as, of course, was aunt madge. the argument as to where mary lee should stay became quite heated although it was carried on with good nature. each one was insistent about carrying her point. the prospective guest, and aunt madge as well as the doctor had found the discussion amusing and the latter, in particular, man like, poked fun at all of them. "well, mary lee," he remarked, "no one would class you as an undesirable. nor could you be considered in the light of a poor relation." "from the way you folks talk," added aunt madge, "one would never infer that the victim had any rights in the matter nor that there might be a possibility that she would have a preference as to where she would like to stay." nothing could have flustered mary lee more than this. she showed such distress and embarrassment at any likelihood of having to decide the argument, that aunt madge took instant pity upon her. she regretted her interference and came quickly to the relief of the girl. "no," she interposed. "on second thought, we shouldn't let her decide. i'm certain that it would be pleasant for mary lee at any of your homes." "yes," said dr. anderson, "we must keep her out of this important discussion, slave that she is," he added with mock ferocity. everyone laughed but letty. she was so anxious to have the question decided in her favor that she did not even hear what dr. anderson had just said. she had listened with some dismay and misgiving to the first suggestion that mary lee be allowed to choose her own home. the new letty dared not hope that she would be chosen in preference to ruth and mrs. cameron. "i know what we will do," dr. anderson said. "we two, i mean," and he nodded his head toward aunt madge to avoid calling her name. one of the delightful things about him was that he could not overcome the habit, try as he would, of blushing when mentioning his fiancee by name. worst of all, their friends were acquainted with this characteristic. he was annoyed with himself for not being able to overcome it, and, wisely so he thought he had decided to avoid the amused watchfulness of these friends by failing to mention her by name. this time, he was fairly caught. "which two do you mean?" mary lee asked innocently even as aunt madge, mrs. cameron and the girls watched him with laughing eyes. "which two?" the girl repeated. dr. anderson scowled. "why, madge and myself," he replied and then could feel himself turning brick red even though he made every effort to appear unconcerned. and while they all laughed, he continued as if he did not hear them: "madge and i will be the judges as to where mary lee is to stay. you are all to prove prior rights as they do in all claims upon valuable property." neither mrs. cameron nor ruth, however, could bring forth any such proof except that the former had never considered that there could be any question about it. as for ruth, she had just hoped that mary lee would naturally want to stay with her. "well, then," triumphantly declared letty, "mary lee was invited by me long, long ago, when she first moved out to the farm. weren't you, mary lee?" she asked as she pointed an excited finger straight at the girl. she was so much in earnest that it raised another laugh. "i was," answered mary lee, and in her heart there was a great warmth and affection for all these dear friends who were so earnest in their desire to have her stay with them and in particular for this warm-hearted, impetuous letty. "the jury will now retire," said dr. anderson. aunt madge and he went into a far corner and were in earnest discussion for several minutes. finally they returned. "we, the jury, decided that mary lee is to stay with letty. but--" and the doctor paused impressively--"she is to make long visits to the other claimants at reasonable times, and in view of the valuable services of the jury she is to make equally long visits to the jury after a certain very happy event takes place." there was more laughter and general satisfaction on the part of all. before the girls left mrs. cameron called mary lee aside for a moment. "my dear," she said, "i have ordered a party gown for you to wear at the wedding. can't you stay here until tomorrow and try it on?" mary lee was greatly distressed. "oh, i'm so sorry, mrs. cameron, but i can't accept your wonderful gift. you are so kind and it is so very tempting." she paused. "you see," she continued, "i have my pretty white organdie dress which is almost new. i do not wish to become further indebted to any of you; you have all been so kind and i already owe you so much. i just hoped that my simple dress would do. dear mrs. cameron, i hope so to earn enough to pay my way while in the city in order that i can be self-reliant." mrs. cameron thought for a moment. it was a little hard to overcome her disappointment. she had set her heart upon this gift. "you know," continued mary lee, and there were tears in her eyes at the disappointment she was causing, "i appreciate your kindness so much. but i do hope you can see my side of it," she concluded. "you shall have your way, my dear," answered mrs. cameron bravely and wholeheartedly, as she took the girl in her arms and gave her a good, motherly hug. chapter ix dr. payson employs mary lee the week of the wedding arrived. it proved a feverish time for them all. the days flew swiftly. the two preceding weeks had been a mad rush, so they all thought, and they now decided that these last days fittingly capped the climax. for the girls, this last week brought the important--but up to now, neglected--event of school opening strongly to their attention. it was to take place three days after the wedding. there was need to plan and prepare for that as well. it was mary lee who found time to be of help to everyone. the excitement left her untouched. there were things she also had to plan and do, yet she proved a blessing to the harrassed and distracted bride who preferred her help to that of anyone else. the girl also was able to help mrs. cameron whose responsibilities as matron and hostess were great. ruth, too, usually independent, welcomed her help. as for letty, full of the excitement of these days, it required all of mary lee's strength of mind to counteract the desire of the former to stay up night after night to discuss the coming events. mary lee was the necessary balance for such a nature as letty's. with all this, mary lee set to work to carry out certain other plans that had nothing to do with either of the two important events. and, strangely, too, she was able to enlist the services of dr. anderson at this time. that poor man, with each day's nearer approach to the event found himself of less and less importance. there was little opportunity to see his fiancee who was enmeshed in numberless engagements with dressmakers and, so it seemed to him, with everybody in town but himself. mary lee found him in this frame of mind on the morning she called at his office, only three days before the wedding. she had been surprised to find that he would be glad to see her at any time, when she called him on the telephone. "i didn't dare expect that i could see you so soon," she apologized after greetings had been exchanged. "all i could do was to hope for it." the doctor, however, gave no sign of being very busy. on the contrary, he seemed to indicate that he had prepared for a long and pleasant visit with her. "i haven't a thing to do," he remarked. "i turned over my practice for the next two months to dr. stewart on the presumption that i could be fairly useful to _her_ and because, so i thought, of the opportunities i would have to see _her_. then, too, i had a large number of things that required attention. "and," he added with a wry face, "i have found plenty of time to attend to the things that required attention, for, lo and behold, i find _her_ without any time for me and the kind of help i can give _her_, she doesn't need. so you see, mary lee, i have lots of time on my hands and am glad of the chance to see any friends who have time for me." "dr. anderson," the girl came directly to the subject nearest her heart, "i wondered if you would not know someone who perhaps would be in need of the services of a girl like myself for after school hours." the doctor whistled in amazement. "honestly, young lady, you are a creature of surprises. what made you think of that, when there are so many of your friends who would make you more than welcome?" "i know they would," the girl replied, "but i shall never feel content to live on their bounty and i shall only be happy when i am as independent as is possible." "you are right, mary lee," he agreed in hearty approval. "it is the only normal thing to do. well," and he paused in deep thought. he knew that mary lee would be mortified if he should suggest that he employ her, for that would make it seem as if she were bidding for a position in his office in an indirect way. he knew her well enough to be quite certain that it would be best to place her elsewhere. "i shall see some of my friends who are likely to need an able assistant part time. of course, with the training you desire you naturally would prefer a doctor's office." mary lee nodded in assent. after a few inquiries as to the hours the girl would be able to give to the new duties and a friendly warning, which the doctor decided was almost unnecessary as to the demands of employers, the subject was changed and the conversation changed to aunt madge. the girl tried hard to give the doctor an idea of how busy his fiancee was, the many things that needed attention and the tremendous amount of preparations necessary for it. even though he had but a small conception of it all, she felt that she had made him understand a little more closely. at the end of a half hour, she departed after thanking him warmly for his interest. the doctor was prompt in making inquiries. one of his friends, dr. payson, could use mary lee's services after school hours and saturday mornings. but he would also need her at ten o'clock for one hour on two mornings of each week. dr. anderson immediately called her up with the good news. "of course, it does not pay much, but payson will probably find you useful and give you every opportunity to learn. it will be good experience and of great help to you later, when you enter training school. the money it pays is as much as three dollars every week," the doctor added laughingly and apologetically. but if that sum did not seem big to him, it did to mary lee and she told him so. it had been more than she had expected. the only hitch was the question of being free at ten on two school mornings. she consulted letty in reference to this and received the welcome assurance from her that study hours were often arranged so that free time could be obtained. she called on dr. payson with dr. anderson. he proved to be a kindly, middle aged man and from all appearances seemed satisfied as to her possible usefulness to him. mary lee did not know that dr. anderson had given a full account of her sense of responsibility and likable qualities and that it was his enthusiastic recommendation that had persuaded his friend to try mary lee instead of employing an older assistant for full time. "well, mary," he started to say, but dr. anderson interrupted him. "not mary, payson, not mary. this young lady's name is mary lee. be sure to remember the lee. we sometimes think that her mother did not name her lee after a loyal indian, as she would have us believe, but because she wanted her little girl's name to sound as if it were mer-ri-ly. that name fits her." as mary lee blushed, dr. payson remarked laughingly, "i am sure i shall find her very pleasant and agreeable. i shall also be sure to remember that it is mary lee i am to call her, in the future." chapter x aunt madge is married aunt madge had always been a firm believer in simplicity and she made that the predominating tone of the ceremony. she had a fair share of worldly riches and yet she had not, as our readers who have grown to know her must readily realize, ever made use of her wealth for garish display. there was a fine dignity and charm about the ceremony of the marriage that came through the gifted touch of true womanhood. it was at an old church, beautiful, stately and with that atmosphere that brings of itself devoutness, religious fervor and conviction. a wonderful organ played, as down the aisle came ruth and edith, followed by letty and mary lee. the four girls were as fair as the flowers they carried and made a charming picture that brought forth a murmur of admiration. about them, too, as if to fit in with the entire impressiveness, was a sense of quiet and repose that to those who knew them measured the significance and importance of the event for them. mrs. cameron as matron of honor followed, and dr. payson escorted the bride. the bridegroom? he had been waiting with dr. payson, his best man, at the altar throughout the entire ordeal. but we shall speak of him a little later, for our eyes are upon the bride as she goes, slowly and yet in perfect time of music, down the broad aisle to the altar. all brides are beautiful. and yet, margaret cameron made a picture that was to stay in the minds of those present for many a day. one stores away memories and impressions of that kind. we are so built that everything must be symbolized. for as one thinks of green woods, there is sure to come the picture of one certain spot, one certain nook to symbolize it; so, for many of those present, there would, in the same way, come a picture of margaret cameron as she appeared that day, whenever thereafter weddings and brides were spoken about. the fineness of her! she carried a shower bouquet of white roses and lilies of the valley. her head-dress was very becoming--a bridal veil prettily arranged--and her gown was a simple creation of white satin draped gracefully, trimmed with some rare old lace which belonged to her mother, and which had adorned her bridal gown. we wish we could defy the conventional and the expected and say for the groom that he was fully at ease, self-contained, in full command of the situation. poor man, we wish we could say it and remain truthful. we could not do both. never was any man more in need of help. dr. payson had a busy time of it. his whispered instructions fell on deaf ears, the owner of which was too scared to even hear. at the proper time, too, he was almost dragged to the proper place. he did, however, manage to answer, "i will" distinctly. and as if that had been the goal, once he did that, some of his composure came back to him. dr. payson always insisted thereafter that his friend had primed himself for the "i will" and was unequal to anything else. "why, i actually felt sorry for him," he said. "his knees were trembling and knocking against each other. i couldn't make out the thing he was mumbling but i feel certain he was only rehearsing to himself 'i will, i will, i will.'" there was the usual rush of friends after the reverend dr. arthur had tied the knot, and the shower of congratulations. it was the plan of the married couple to leave at once. to the new benedict, it seemed, however, that the number of their friends was unlimited and the time they took to offer their good wishes hours and hours. but all things have an end and so the andersons were off at last. mrs. anderson had found the opportunity for an affectionate leave-taking from her girls and also from bob cameron. she had promised to write to them, too. some of the tenseness of the last few days seemed to go with the couple. mrs. cameron sighed with relief--relief over the fact that there had been no hitch and that the event had gone through so smoothly. belief, too, that the worry and bustle were over. for the girls there came a moment of reaction. just what would take the place of the excitement and planning of the last few weeks? school seemed tame in comparison. even the fact that mary lee had procured a position for some of her spare time had not created the furore that it would have under ordinary circumstances. "it certainly seems strange to think of aunt madge as mrs. anderson, doesn't it?" asked ruth as the party started for the door. "and i suppose that's what we'll have to call her, too, instead of aunt madge," added letty ruefully. "and precious little we shall see of her from now on, i suppose," was edith's contribution. "i declare when i grow up i just won't marry and desert my friends, i just won't." the sense of injury was growing stronger and it was so voiced by letty. the rest of the girls laughed at her. "you'll be the very first one, letty dear," mary lee answered her, as she gave the impetuous letty an affectionate hug. "come, girls, let's plan for school," she added. dr. payson was just entering his car as they came to the street. "don't forget, mary lee," he called to her. "be sure to report on time." "i certainly will," answered mary lee. chapter xi busy days ten days later school was already in full swing. mary lee had been placed in a grade lower than her friends because she had lost so much time while at the orphanage and at the quinns. she had been able to arrange for the necessary spare time and so was able to become dr. payson's "assistant," as he jokingly called her. each of the girls had received a card from the andersons who were now in the adirondacks and who were to remain there for several weeks. mary lee had also received a letter from tom marshall, forwarded to her by mrs. quinn. he was on his way to mexico and he told her that his mother had died, but so peacefully that it had left him no bitterness. his sorrow held only the regret that he had not been more with his mother during the last few years. he thanked mary lee again for her help and voiced the hope that he would see her again some day. pleasant days followed each other. the girl enjoyed her work at dr. payson's office as much as she did school. what time she did not devote to her studies and to the office was spent agreeably with the other girls. it had been decided to hold the campfire meetings on friday nights and the girls were doing fairly well in the absence of their leader, aunt madge. following mary lee's example, they were desirous of being red cross girls. ruth, who was secretary, was instructed to write to the red cross committee volunteering the services of the seven girls. "what can we do?" alice brown, one of the girls, pessimistically asked. "why, we can make bandages, after a few lessons," replied mary lee. "and some of us can sew and knit," added letty. "oh," said alice, as if a light had struck her. "why of course." before they could get a reply to their letter, the president and congress had declared war against germany. this made them doubly eager for their answer and with the idea of preparing ahead of time, at mary lee's suggestion, they immediately invited miss walker, a friend of mrs. anderson, who was a trained nurse, to teach them how to make such bandages as might be needed. miss walker readily consented to give one evening a week to teaching them. the war came somewhat close to mary lee when dr. payson told her that he intended to answer the first call for physicians. "would you like to come along?" he asked her jestingly. the girl took his question seriously and for a moment was not sure. she pictured the wounded and dying with her ready imagination and felt as if she would not be equal to it. then a new and clearer thought came. "if i'm to be a nurse," she said determinedly to herself, "i mustn't think of such things. i mustn't think of myself at all." but dr. payson, who had watched the serious minded girl with considerable amusement, added: "there isn't any need for sudden decision on your part. i'm afraid you couldn't come even if you would. you are somewhat young, for one thing, and i hope there won't ever come a time when they will need anybody so young," he concluded as a serious look came into his eyes. then he changed the subject and went into a detailed explanation of what was to be done with a case that was to come in a little later that day, and how he would expect mary lee to assist him. she listened carefully as she was anxious to get practical experience. "i wish i could have you here all the time," dr. payson remarked a little later. "you are such a help. i tell you this because i feel sure it won't turn your head." the girl flushed with gratification and vowed to herself that she would give her very best to her work always. and although dr. payson did not add it, he had noticed with considerable satisfaction how neat the girl was and how strong a point she made of keeping things in order. in the midst of a number of questions one afternoon, a sudden thought struck her and she stopped short. "i'm sorry, dr. payson, i should not be bothering you with my many questions," she remarked contritely. "i didn't realize before, how many i ask." "you are not bothering me," he answered with decision. "i want you to ask questions; in that way i shall be able to get your best help, so be sure you always do." after that mary lee, taking him at his word, never hesitated. in this way she was learning much and daily growing more efficient. letty, for one, was keenly interested in mary lee's position and at such time when she was free she begged to be allowed to go with her to dr. payson's office. but excepting saturday mornings when dr. payson did not come to the office, mary lee, much as she would have liked to have letty with her, had to reluctantly refuse permission. she felt that the situation was not play and even on the saturday mornings that letty did come she made her help in getting things in order. school events were now in full swing. mary lee became a member of the basket ball team because of her quickness and strength. at the same time letty was made a substitute. at one of the campfire meetings mary lee suggested to the other girls that they start a large junior red cross group at high school. the idea took like wildfire at school and over forty girls made application at the first meeting. the idea had the enthusiastic backing of miss james who was a teacher in english at the school and who had been made the director of the group by the faculty. "suppose," said miss james, "we form a committee on plans. there will be so much to do and so many in the school who will be anxious to join that we should have plans formed." the girls all agreed. besides miss james seven girls were appointed, and mary lee, letty and ruth were three of them. as if to help the committee on plans the answer from the red cross committee came to ruth the next morning. ruth read the letter through breathlessly, and then hurried over to meet letty and mary lee before their departure for school. the two girls were just leaving the house as ruth turned the corner. "mary lee, letty!" she called to them excitedly and waved the letter. passers-by stopped and smiled at the girl and her excitement but she was heedless of the stir she was causing. mary lee and letty turned at the call and hurried to meet her. "i've got the letter! i've got the letter!" she exclaimed. "will they let us do anything? what do they say? let's sit down and read it," letty responded with great eagerness. mary lee, not a bit less excited, turned to see where they could sit down. "let's sit down here," she directed and the three girls seated themselves on the steps of letty's house. mary lee then immediately turned to the letter. it was of considerable length. it told the girls that the help they could give at the time was threefold. while some of it might not at first thought be the red cross work, as they probably had associated their idea of it, it was, as they would realize after a little thought, the best kind of red cross help. the letter closed very nicely, after outlining the things they could do, with an appreciation of their offer which was so opportune and the assurance that their help was greatly needed. "my," said mary lee, "it's like ready made plans for our committee. let's hurry and show it to miss james. we'll be late if we stop and talk it over, there is so much to consider." so the girls hurried to school with a consciousness that the opportunity for service was straight ahead of them and in definite, concrete form. after the first period, the three girls were free and they immediately hastened to see miss james. "it is perfectly splendid, isn't it?" was her comment after reading the letter through. "i wonder how many of the rest of the committee can be excused so that we can go over this letter at once." two of the other girls could come and they did. miss james then read the letter aloud. "you see, girls, they want us to plan along three different lines. first, and this is the plan that we all had--we should turn to making useful things which would be used by our soldiers and our allies. you see, they want us to be very practical about this. "second, they want every member of this group to help in the planting of some vegetable garden. that is a splendid practical idea, not hard to follow and it should prove of great benefit inasmuch as the food supply of the country would be materially increased. "third, they want us to form a division whose work will be to call attention of households to the great need of eliminating luxuries, and being economical and frugal. that, too, is possible for us to do. "of course, young ladies, we by ourselves can do our share. but it helps to know that there are to be other groups like our own formed throughout the country--for that means we shall be a part of a very big thing." "isn't it fine?" mary lee added with great enthusiasm. "president wilson said the other day that help, such as this, is just as necessary and useful as the service the soldier gives." "we'll call a meeting of the group tomorrow afternoon, shall we?" asked miss james. "this afternoon we can get a report into definite shape." "but, miss james," interrupted letty. "if we have our meeting this afternoon, mary lee cannot be present. she is at dr. payson's; nor can she come tomorrow afternoon, or any afternoon." miss james turned to mary lee who nodded her head in confirmation. "you see," she remarked apologetically, "i work afternoons and saturday mornings at dr. payson's office. but please," the girl added, "you have your meeting and i'll help as i can." "well, there's one thing we know--we want mary lee with us, don't we girls?" asked miss james. the girls agreed with decisive unanimity. "so we will have our meetings at seven tonight and tomorrow, if all of you can arrange to have an early dinner. i hope that this is satisfactory. and in the meantime, girls, think about this and about any ideas that are practical and feasible. above everything else, let us prove that we are a very practical, useful group." it was almost time for the next period and so the girls made their way to their classrooms. chapter xii indian jim's lucky strike with the reader's permission we shall turn our attention to tom marshall who was returning to mexico at the time we last heard of him. he had left his indian partner prospecting there, for both of them had hopes in the possibilities of the mine despite its apparent fruitlessness. there was a warm friendship between the two men who had grown to know each other in their solitude. it was the indian who had urged tom to make his trip home and who had insisted that the latter take most of their small capital on hand for his expenses. his return was at best a weary trip. he had left the train at el paso, then had made his way westward and at a lonely point had crossed over into mexico. despite the outlaw bands everywhere he had no trouble on the way, although he had been on the road for over two weeks. he had now quickened his pace for he was on the last lap. his weariness fell from him like a discarded mantle. in his heart was a great eagerness to see his friend and still a hope that he had proved successful. a rather vague hope--for the man's optimism which had always been strong, in the last few years had received some severe jolts. at last he could see their hut. he could make out the figure of the indian carrying water toward it. he hastened his step. the keen ear of the indian must have heard him, for he suddenly stood erect and with his eyes shaded by his left hand he searched the road. then he saw marshall approaching. he watched him for a moment, motionless, without any semblance of feeling. then suddenly he answered the waving, shouting greeting of his partner with a whoop and no less swiftly and eagerly hurried forward to meet him. "hello, tom, i'm glad to see you." "no less than i am, old man. it's good to get back and i certainly missed you." the indian smiled his pleasure. he had associated so long with the white people that he spoke, except at rare moments, after the manner of his white brothers. even his habits, thoughts and manners were no different and to the ordinary observer it would have been impossible to recognize him as an indian, except for his copper-hued complexion. "i'm sorry about your mother, tom, but it was a blessed thing for you to have been home before she passed away." "that is was, partner. but i had some time getting there." and he went into the story of how he made his way, and how sickness had overcome him. "i don't know what i would have done without the help of a little angel of mercy who took me to the hospital, wrote home for me and then saw to it that i got enough money to get home." the indian listened interestedly. "now tell me what has happened here," tom added. "well, i've had some proof that there is silver here. not much proof, but some. i have been waiting for you to come back so that we could rig up another block and tackle and bore and go to it at a certain point that may show results. i think there is some chance of its proving 'pay dirt.'" "i shall be ready at any time," replied tom. "it would be splendid if we could make a strike, wouldn't it?" the indian nodded his head; then as something came to his mind, he added: "barton is coming this way tomorrow and we can get him to bring us some things we need from the states. he'll be back next week." "good," replied marshall. "i will also give him a few letters i want mailed." tom turned to the writing of his letters. one was to his cousin. he wrote a short note to mary lee thanking her for her letter which he received at el paso. he spoke of his partner and of the bare possibility of finding silver in plenty at the mine. the indian smoked his pipe while his partner was writing, watching him with a feeling of contentment. he had been very lonesome for him. he was of the type that become strongly attached to people and the acquaintance of this man now so busily writing was the second of his great friendships. now his mind wandered a little back to the time, more than twelve years before, when he had had other friends. he was brought back to the present with a start. "here is that little girl that did so much for me," marshall, unaware of the flow of his friend's thoughts, interrupted, as he handed the envelope and letter to him. the man looked at the envelope with passing interest. but even as he looked, a strange thrill came over him. he rubbed his eyes and looked again. were his eyes playing tricks with his wandering thoughts? he rubbed them again. then he turned to his partner who was watching him curiously. what was this miracle that brought the past back to him? surely it was naught but a trick, a coincidence! to tom marshall, watching him with increasing interest, the indian turned questioningly, and even as he turned there suddenly came to the white man similarity of names, for his partner was named jim lee. yet, surely the girl was not indian. jim lee's emotion brought his words back to the beauty of indian phrasing. "the great spirit gives strange proof of his greatness. my partner, who is very dear to me, will listen while i tell him the story of what has been. "fifteen years ago and even more, i was up in alaska. a man, a stranger to me, risked his life and saved mine. more than that, he shared the little he had with me, through the long winter, even though he went hungry often. that was brave and it was good. so i, who had no call of bloodfolk, found my call there. stewart and i, we did things, but it brought no returns in white man's gold. then this man returned to where his family was waiting and he was sorrowful that he could bring no wealth. i went with him. could i do more? "a fine man was he. the great spirit called him about three years later and he answered. and even as he passed on to the great beyond, he turned to me and wished that i would do what i could for his loved ones. "it was little enough i could do, but that little i did. gentle and kind was mrs. stewart; and little mary, but two years old, was a great playmate. the days were cheerful and even comfortable. mrs. stewart named mary--mary lee--for two reasons: for me, and because it sounded as if it were merri-ly. and a merry spirit she was. "the little girl was eight years old when the great spirit called again and this time mrs. stewart made answer. a sorry time it was; but sorrier days were to come, for they who plan things decided that jim lee, because he was an indian, was not the proper person to take care of one who was dearer than all life to him. "they took the little girl away even as she cried and would not go. she went east and they would not tell me where. and then i decided that perhaps it was better so. she was young and would forget. perhaps she would be happier. "and now you come and bring back--from out of the past--news of a very dear one. so blame me not, if i am moved. i shall leave you, my brother, for an hour or so, for i would be alone." the indian walked out of the hut. for more than three hours tom marshall was alone. then lee returned, but he offered no comment and the white man respected his wish for silence. "shall i write and tell mary lee that you are here?" tom marshall inquired the next morning. "or, perhaps you would like to write to her yourself?" lee made no answer for a moment and seemed to be debating the question. "no, thank you, i think not. we will wait," he finally decided. barton came the next morning and took the mail and also promised to do the necessary shopping for them. the two men turned to the work in hand. it was not long before they were ready for further drilling and before the month was up they were fairly assured of prospective success. if the vein did not "peter out" their fortune was certain. but they made no mention of their probable success to the one or two stray mexicans who passed. they would not be in possession very long if the news were made public. jim lee had by now received all the information that marshall could give him of mary lee. moreover he had made tom repeat it to him a dozen times at least. on the day when their success was no longer in doubt, tom was painting in glowing colors his plans and what he would do with his share of the mine. the indian, however, gave no inkling of his intentions. tom noticed the fact. "what are you going to do with your share, jim?" he asked. "my share is for mary lee. it could not be otherwise." tom nodded understandingly. he already realized how much the indian's loyalty and faith were wrapped up in the girl. it was because of the debt his partner owed to stewart and because of his added devotion to the girl. "tom," the indian added, "now that the subject is up, i might as well tell you my wishes. if anything happens to me, you will see that my share is turned over to her, will you?" "of course," was the answer. "but nothing is going to happen to you, and if there is going to be any turning over, it will be done by you." the days that followed were eager, eventful days. jim lee was able to make a safe trip over the border and make a deposit of a large supply of the silver without anyone's being the wiser. he informed the president of the bank of the need of secrecy and that gentleman saw to it that no inkling of the source of the silver leaked out. then a week or so later tom came over with another supply which had been stored. in two months there was over fifty thousand dollars to their credit at the bank. then rumors and actual proofs of the approach of the revolutionists came to them. one morning tom spoke of this and wondered how long it would be safe for them to continue carrying the silver across the border without being discovered. "it seems to me," he added thoughtfully, "it might pay us to play safe. what do you think of destroying all evidence of the fact that this mine exists and leaving here for a year or so? things might be safer for us then and we would always have the mine. in the meantime we have this money on deposit to help us along." "i've thought of that," replied jim lee. "we might even be able to sell the mine to people who would be ready to take the risk or who would wait for the safe and settled times." "i hadn't thought of that," was tom's comment. "we probably could sell--it is only a question of whether we wish to." once they had come to a decision they immediately set to work to destroy all clues and made it appear as if the location had been forsaken as worthless. they made good work of it. after they were through they felt that there was small probability of anyone's making any investigation. a few days later they returned to the states. they drew out what money they needed. "we'll go north for a while. first we'll stop at my house, then we'll go to the city and visit mary lee. is that satisfactory, jim?" jim agreed. they reached tom marshall's home, but stayed for a few days only. tom could see how eager his friend was to see the girl and so he hastened their departure. chapter xiii a happy red cross group it was not very long before the red cross group at the high school was busily at work, following the outline suggested by the red cross committee. the group was made up of thirty girls, each of whom gave five hours a week to sewing, knitting and in a smaller measure preparing bandages. another group of about the same number had already prepared gardens for the growth of vegetables and berries. letty and mary lee had planned for a garden of string beans. it was letty's suggestion that each girl specialize in one thing and that all the vegetables were to be brought to the school and sold when ready. with a few slight changes this plan was adopted. ruth had set to work to grow potatoes and corn. miss james had made them all understand that while their gardens would need constant attention, the returns would be rather slow in coming and that only by constant watching would their work prove successful. the third group had set to work to canvass a district which had been assigned to the high school and in twos and threes were already earnestly bringing to the attention of both the thoughtful and thoughtless the need of economizing. "it isn't so much that we ourselves will need it. the president has told us how much the other warring countries wasted at the beginning and that they were now suffering in consequence. it is our duty to help our allies as much as we can and this way will be your share and my share." this was mary lee's best argument and it usually brought promises to do what was possible and also offers of help. on saturday afternoon all the girls were reporting what they had done. when they had finished, mary lee asked miss james if there was anything she wished to tell the girls. "only this," was the response, "what the girls are doing in the way of getting stockings, mittens and shirts is of great value. thanks to the co-operation of all groups such as this, our soldiers will be fairly well supplied. but i really believe that the girls who are visiting families and making them think of economy are doing just as effective and valuable work. and the gardeners are going to get a lot of satisfaction from their work." "before we adjourn, i have one or two suggestions which you may think it worth while to follow," said mary lee. "our red cross group might suggest to the mayor that the parks be made, at least such parts as could be used for such purposes, into small gardens to grow cabbage, lettuce, cauliflower, squash and other vegetables. furthermore, a little further out in the suburbs, we might get the consent of the railroad companies to let families use the land that they call their right of way, for planting of vegetables. this would be in line with the work planned for us." "what capital ideas," said miss james while the girls applauded. "i move," said one of the girls, "that miss james and mary lee be appointed a committee to take up both these questions and that we all offer our help should they need it." the motion was seconded and passed unanimously. when mary lee reported for work the following monday, dr. payson was waiting for her. "didn't dr. anderson tell me that you have had some experience in the handling of babies?" he inquired. "i have had," was the girl's answer. "at the orphanage they arranged it so that the older girls attended to the babies and at mrs. quinn's, because she was not well, i had to take almost complete care of the child." "good," was the doctor's answer. "i will have to go to the richardsons' home about five-thirty. i have been there once already this afternoon, but will need some help when i go there again. i know it is past your hour but i hope you can come with me. miss doyle, who is the nurse i called for, is on another case, so i cannot get her." "i shall be glad to go," replied mary lee. "i thought you would," dr. payson remarked. at five-thirty the doctor and mary lee drove off. it was about fifteen minutes' ride to the richardson home. "the child is ailing," the doctor informed her. "it isn't teething and it isn't the ordinary children's ailments. i wanted them to get a specialist in children's diseases, but they insist on having me. it isn't very serious, but you will have to help me and possibly hold the child's attention while i do a little prying." the anxious mother was waiting for them. "is the child any better?" the doctor asked. "he hasn't seemed to be in pain but he has a high temperature," answered mrs. richardson. "well, it isn't anything serious or it would have been apparent by now. so we needn't worry. mary lee will give the child this laxative and if he isn't normal in two hours, please let me know. you needn't send for the specialist now. if you had sent for him earlier, you would have saved some worry, for he probably would have realized that it wasn't serious where i simply made sure." "well, i'd much rather have you make sure than have anyone make a quick guess," answered mrs. richardson, much relieved. in the meantime, thanks to mary lee's soothing and practiced touch, the child had perceptibly calmed and the doctor found his temperature already nearer normal. mrs. richardson thanked mary lee for her help as they left. "of course," said dr. payson, as he took the girl to her home in his car, "every mother should worry; but a child of poor parents would hardly get so much attention." and then dr. payson changed the subject and questioned mary lee as to the red cross work her group was doing. chapter xiv mary lee meets an old friend while plans were being forwarded for the red cross group's effective aid, two of our friends--tom marshall and indian jim--were on their way to new york city. the latter intended to enlist in the army as soon as he had paid a visit to mary lee. it was fun for tom marshall to draw comparisons between their present mode of traveling and that of his previous journey which had been made partly on foot and partly on freight trains. it made the comforts of the pullman in which they were now riding, seem ideal. as they were speeding along, the conversation turned to jim lee's intention of enlisting. "i shall enlist, too," tom remarked, "but i have no desire to serve longer than the war." lee, however, argued against his doing so. he dwelt upon the advisability of his holding off for a time. "one of us will be sufficient for the present, partner. it is your duty to stay behind and negotiate the possible sale of our mine. i should feel uneasy if i thought provision had not been made for its safety and the income turned over to mary lee." "very well," his partner replied. "when we get to the city i shall call upon some people, who will, in all probability, be interested and see if i cannot dispose of it at a fair figure. i guess an immediate sale is the best thing even if we do have to sacrifice a few thousand dollars." "i think so," the indian agreed. "at any rate, i shall be satisfied with your judgment in the matter." two hours later they reached their destination. tom marshall had received mary lee's address in one of her letters and although he had not told her who his partner was, he had given her some idea of the good fortune their mine had brought them. the two men made their way to a hotel. they had purchased some city clothes at the time they entered the states on their return from mexico. now they secured some more ready made and fashionable suits and it would have been difficult to recognize in the trim, well garbed figures, the rough and unkempt prospectors of little more than a month before. each one of them took great pride in appearing at his best before mary lee. tom marshall recollected that mary lee had written him of her afternoon position with dr. payson so the two men decided not to call until evening. to tom, accustomed to his partner's moods and feelings, it was apparent that despite his dispassionate and stolid expression, he was burning with eagerness to see the girl who represented all his earthly ties. and marshall, himself, was anxious to see his young friend, to be able to thank her again, in person, for her kindness at a time when he needed such kindness and help. the hour for calling came at last and the two men started for letty's home. a butler opened the door and they asked to see miss mary lee. they were ushered into the drawing room. two girls entered the room a few minutes later. tom marshall bowed to mary lee. the indian looked intently and eagerly at the two girls, then his face cleared, for he now knew which was mary lee. in the same instant the girl recognized tom marshall. she came toward him impetuously and with welcoming hand. so excited was she, she failed to pay much attention to his companion. "why, this is a surprise! i'm glad to see you. so glad you came. this is miss saunders, mr. marshall, and letty, this is mr. tom marshall. you've heard me speak of him, haven't you?" "indeed, i have. won't you both sit down?" letty invited, not forgetting, in her excitement, the need for hospitality and her duties as hostess. "mother will be here in a moment," she added. while letty had been speaking, mary lee had turned, for the first time really aware of the presence of tom marshall's friend. for a brief second the man's intent gaze disturbed her. only for a second, however, then came the consciousness of having met the man before. but she could not place him in her mind. "this is mr. lee, my partner," interrupted tom marshall, observing the two. "mr. lee?" mary lee questioned, with a swift intake of her breath as dawning realization came. "mr. lee?" she repeated. then a sudden glad light came into her eyes. "why, it's jim lee, my jim! letty, he's indian jim!" and the girl rushed into his arms not knowing whether to laugh or cry and doing both. "there, there, little girl, it's all right. jim's here and jim will take care of you." "jim, i never thought i was going to see you again. and i've missed you all the time, all the time." letty watched her friend with great wonderment. the usually calm and collected mary lee was in a state of great excitement--a thing so unusual as to be worth observing. mrs. saunders came into the room at that moment and the two men were introduced by the excited mary lee who made a haven of that good woman's kindly arms. mrs. saunders was a devoted, indulgent mother. she had developed a great affection for the motherless mary lee. she was also a woman of quick and unusually good judgment. she liked the looks of these two men, which fact was not at all strange for they both showed in open countenance, the honesty and cleanliness of outdoor and right living. mrs. saunders made them feel thoroughly at home. she knew the story of mary lee and so understood who jim lee was. she very naturally realized how delighted the girl must feel at jim lee's coming. for two hours they sat and talked over things, bringing up to the present moment the important events in mary lee's life as well as those of interest in jim lee's. the two men then departed, promising to come again. without mary lee's knowledge, they had arranged with mrs. saunders for a meeting with mr. saunders the following morning. that gentleman had not returned home up to the moment they were leaving. chapter xv mary lee's legacy "you see, mr. saunders, it isn't a question of our wanting any money," said tom marshall. "mr. lee is anxious to make safe provision for mary lee out of the net proceeds of his share of the mine. as for my share, i can wait until such time as the buyers are ready to turn over the proceeds." "the ore is there, all right, but the mine needs capital." jim lee was now speaking. "we want to turn it over to the right hands, that is all. that will benefit us most." mr. saunders was a banker. as a business proposition, he was keenly interested. he very naturally took some precautions, asked many questions, but he seemed fairly well convinced at the end. "i shall be able to arrange a meeting for you and probably find a way that will be best for all concerned, if you will both call again this afternoon." the end of the day found the whole matter closed up. a company was formed in which the two partners received a one-third share. if the mine proved of great value, they were each to receive $100,000 in addition. jim lee's share, by an extra provision, was to be paid out in income to mary lee. he also made provision with mr. saunders to turn over $15,000 of his available cash to the girl. it was finally decided that tom marshall was not to enlist but to stay and manage the mine. that night the two men again called at the saunders home. indian jim told mary lee of his intention to enlist. the girl did not try to dissuade him. then he went into the details, very simply, of what he wanted to do with his money. the girl listened quietly. to her, jim represented family--so closely allied had he been to it--so much was he connected with all her recollections of it. "i don't know what to say, jim," she remarked. "to tell you i don't think you should turn over that money to me is needless, almost. let us put it this way: whatever money there is, i shall gladly count as if it were partly my own; but for you to turn it over entirely to me, isn't fair. let it be for both of us." the indian smiled at her with great affection. he made no answer. he did not tell her he had already made every provision. instead, he told her how much she meant to him, what a big debt he had owed her father. "this," he said, "is but a small way of repaying it." a few days later jim was enrolled in the cavalry. his application had been quickly approved--men like him were needed. but until he joined his company the two men and mary lee, when she was free, and letty, too, spent many happy hours together. tom marshall's time was also well spent and plans for proper equipment were being hurried for an immediate start on the mine. mr. saunders was a quick, able worker and he obtained results immediately. "won't it be fine," said letty one holiday morning, "for you to have all this money! you won't have to work any longer at dr. payson's, will you?" but mary lee laughed. "of course, i'll not give up my work," she asserted. "i'm learning lots. furthermore, i want to become a nurse and dr. payson agrees that it is the best kind of training to begin as i have." "but don't you find it awfully hard to give up your afternoons--in fact, all your time, to work and study?" asked the less serious-minded girl. "letty, dear, i do get so much fun out of my work at dr. payson's. it's delightful--and wouldn't you call it recreation to be able to do the things our red cross group is doing? it is such a wonderful opportunity." "i suppose it is," the other girl answered uncertainly. "hello, there's the mail man," she added as from the window she saw him turn in at their house. "i wonder if he has any mail for you and me?" almost at the same moment ruth was ushered into the room. she saw letty go through the mail and pick out two letters. one, letty gave to mary lee, the other, she quickly opened. "well!" letty exclaimed after reading her letter, "it certainly is time." "won't we be glad to see her?" added mary lee, as she finished her letter. ruth was all excitement. "is aunt madge coming home?" she asked eagerly. "mrs. anderson, if you please, young lady," letty answered reprovingly. "wonder if i have a letter home, too," commented ruth. "i suppose you have, dear," replied mary lee assuringly. "i have news for you, ruth. may i tell her, mary lee?" the girl nodded her assent. these two girls were her best friends. she knew how glad ruth would be because of her good fortune. letty told ruth about the money that jim lee had turned over for mary lee's use. ruth's eyes opened with wonder and pleasure. "isn't that fine! i'm so glad, mary lee, dear." "when does jim lee join the army?" she asked. "i guess the day after tomorrow. he's coming here tonight." "i wonder if we cannot get him to tell us an indian story when he comes," remarked letty. "he may," mary lee replied. "will you come over tonight, ruth?" she asked. "yes, come to dinner," added letty. ruth agreed. "when does mrs. anderson come home, mary lee?" she asked as she started to go. "next saturday afternoon. isn't that fine, for i am free on that afternoon and can go with you and meet her," was the reply. "bob is coming home with them, too." "i didn't know he was with them," ruth said in surprise. "yes, he's been there for a week. it is but a short distance from his school, so he went over." "be sure to come tonight," letty reminded the departing girl. "we'll hear a good story if mr. lee will tell it." "i won't forget," replied ruth. chapter xvi a master story teller jim lee and tom marshall were prompt in their expected call, and they found mary lee and letty as well as ruth waiting to receive them. it was the kind of an evening that is usually associated with the month of march. the rain was coming down in a steady downpour, there was a chill to the wind; altogether it was a night in which folks welcomed the warmth of an open grate fire. letty, all excitement, brought up the subject of a story--a story such as only jim lee could tell--of the indian of long ago. "i'm afraid," remarked the indian, "that the kind of stories i used to tell mary lee would be considered entirely too youthful by you young ladies." "but we'd like to hear one, i'm sure we would," replied ruth. "yes, jim do tell us one. i know we will enjoy it." "very well," was the answer. "i see there's no escape and so i had better make the best of it. "long, long ago, in the land you now know as colorado, there lived a strong tribe--the wah-hi-tis--well known for their ability in war. their name was used by the squaws of the other tribes to frighten the little papooses who were wont to whimper. "when i say it was long, long ago, i do not mean a hundred, or two hundred, or five hundred years ago. i speak of thousands of years before the white man came from across the big waters--the white man who has forced out, who has swallowed up the indian so that we are becoming like the buffalo, a rarity. "there came a chief, black eagle, descendant from many chiefs. he was wise and great and his strength was like that of the buffalo and his swiftness like that of the eagle. with an iron hand he ruled, but he was ever kind and considerate except when anger or rage overcame him. then none was more cruel, more terrible. "wise men of many tribes came to visit him and it is said that great gifts were sent to him from the distant lands of mexico; even from the small seas, they sent him offerings, for it was known that his friendship was a blessing and his enmity a thing of which to be wary. "proud were the young bucks who served under black eagle. in their sojourns they had but to exclaim with fine disdain, 'i am a wah-hi-ti!' and they were immediately offered hospitality and friendship. "black eagle had two wives. swift bear, his father, had mated him to swift water, daughter of a neighboring chief. but then came laughing eyes, young and beautiful, and her--black eagle loved at sight. and since it was permitted that chiefs have more than one mate, black eagle took laughing eyes unto himself. "swift water, his first wife, felt the black rage of hate and envy--and who could blame her? but black eagle had already given proof of his terrible outbursts of wrath and she dared not object. she suffered silently. "thus, many years passed. swift water gave black eagle a son, but only after laughing eyes had given birth to a beautiful babe, also a son, who had been named natawara. swift water's son was named black fox. "both sons grew to sturdy manhood and gradually even swift water and laughing eyes learned to know each other. some of the bitterness left the heart of swift water. yet, her life was sad because natawara was to succeed as chief instead of her own son, black fox. "but sturdy though both sons were, there was a strange difference between the two. could these both be sons of the same father? black fox from early youth loved the tales of combat, liked to hear of the victories of his illustrious fathers; and he would dream of the day when he too would go out and say, 'i am a wah-hi-ti, a son of black eagle.' "natawara, however, was different. he loved to hear the wise men tell of the long ago, and yet it was not of combats that he sought to hear. often he would look to the far west and say: "'i would travel far. over the many mountains i would roam; for the great spirit gives us but a short time and there is much to see.' "'he will be a great man, a great chief,' said the wise men. but in their hearts was a dark doubt which they dared not voice, for the anger of black eagle was a thing of dread. and wherefore should they be the bearers of bad news? "for natawara had laughed at combats. 'wherefore shall i kill?' said he. 'i would rather, far rather, seek the things of the world than death.' "'a coward's speech,' the wise men whispered, one to the other. but word of their whisperings came to black fox. then he showed some of the anger of his father. "'no coward is natawara. who says so? i shall hear and the vengeance of black fox is not light.' "but the whispering grew. it came even to the ears of the black eagle who was then on an expedition to the far wyoming. [illustration: dark and savage was the face of the black eagle] "fearful was his rage and black scorn was in his heart. he who whispered would feel the might and strength of the chief of the wah-hi-ti. "'and as for you, you witch,' he said to the old squaw who had taunted him after his men had razed the camp of the cheyennes, 'you shall die! a fearful death you shall die, for lies are the things you say. no wah-hi-ti is a coward, no wah-hi-ti dare say of natawara that he is a coward, for natawara is the son of a chief; he is to be a chief and he would kill.' "so he returned. and the squaws who came to meet the returning warriors, even the braves who had been left at home, drew away, for dark and savage and fearful was the face of the black eagle. "'where is natawara?' he cried. "only black fox dared to come forward. he had but just returned from a victorious conquest. "'natawara made a trip of three months beside the running brook that leads to the big water.' "'is there one, even more than one, who thinks of natawara as a coward?' the chief cried. "but none, of course, answered. side glances were exchanged. so the news had come to the great chief. "'no coward is my brother,' black fox replied. 'none dare so say, for my arm would gain double its strength if i heard aught of it.' "'speak thou for thyself. cannot natawara make his own fights, answer insults himself?' "'his is a great spirit; to him such taunts are but water even on a duck's back. he loves not combat--rather he would voyage everywhere; but none here holds his strength, none his true courage.' "black fox's eyes flashed. he made a picture that brought fire to his father's eyes. "'so i would have you, my son, speak--even so. but natawara is my son, too. soon i shall join the great spirit and if he is to be chief, he must be like the great chiefs before him. he must not own the soul of a squaw.' "then after three moons, even as black eagle waited, his rage still with him, came natawara home. there came with him a tamed fox, following as does a dog. "'i have brought him to my brother who bears his name.' "but laughing eyes called to him and instead of laughter there was dread in her eyes. "'go to your father who has called and is waiting.' "so natawara went. "what befell there, no one can tell for it shall remain a thing of mystery; but those who saw have said that when natawara came forth his face bore a wondrous light as if the great spirit had touched it. he bade farewell to his mother and was away. "black eagle's heart was crushed; but his stern resolve held and the next day black fox (who courageously announced that his brother natawara should be chief, should he ever return) was proclaimed as the next in line. and truly as he stood there, his black eyes flashing, the fox--gift of his brother natawara--beside him, he made the true figure of a chief." jim lee paused. "i fear," he said, "my story is of too great length." but mary lee breathlessly replied, "please go on. tell us of natawara." "did he come back?" letty demanded. "wasn't his brother splendid?" was ruth's comment. jim lee turned to mrs. saunders who nodded her head to continue. "years passed," jim lee continued, "and with the years came more fame to the name of wah-hi-tis. black eagle joined the great spirit and there was much sorrow everywhere. "and with the years natawara became a name forgotten. forgotten did i say? true, except by his mother, laughing eyes. her name became a misnomer; rather it should have been eyes that held the rain, so sad was she. black fox, loyal heart, also remembered, and after his mother died, he made the mother of natawara even as his mother. "but war, he found a great game. love came, too. white cloud became his wife. a gentle soul was she who loved him and his great strength and her second love went forth to laughing eyes. "in the meantime natawara went everywhere. the sadness left him, for life was before him. no longer was he a wah-hi-ti. he made his home everywhere, learned many things. from the sioux he learned how to use a wondrous thing even like the present ax. elsewhere he found what iron would do. then, too, he learned the use of many medicines. this last art he prized most. and with the years, throughout the land, word went forth of his healing touch, his healing medicines. medicine-men spoke of the healer everywhere. his was a life of love. what would the many tribes have thought had the truth been known--that here was natawara, a wah-hi-ti and son of that great chief, black eagle, and brother even of the black fox! "so then a son was born to black fox--a son who promised to continue the great name of the wah-hi-ti. richer and more powerful had grown this nation and the land it held. "but black clouds appeared. black buffalo, the son, had a strange sickness and the medicine men could not cure, try as they would. it was a time of great sorrow. "the chief medicine man came unto the chief. "'none can help black buffalo but the healer. send you for him; but send not as the great chief, but only as a father who suffers, for the healer knows not the call of chief or slave, as such, but only as a call.' "'i shall go to him myself,' replied black fox, 'as a father whose son ails and whom the medicine men, professedly wise, cannot cure.' "so black fox went forth. seven moons of great haste and he came upon the home of the healer. "a great change had come unto both, so that neither knew the other except that within both of them was a great call which could not be explained. black fox dared not tell his name for the healer had many other calls and his partiality was for the poor and the needy. rather he spoke of the great love he held for his sick son and of the mother at home. "the healer heard the father's call and went forth. to the wah-hi-tis he went, in his heart a great desire to see the land of his youth. even so, he stopped often for the stricken were everywhere. "so they came to the home of the wah-hi-tis, to the old home of natawara. black buffalo was on his couch, but not as the son of a chief, only as a wah-hi-ti. "as the medicine men watched, the healer deftly applied his lotions, applied his touch. "'the boy shall be well within fourteen moons. i shall stay if the chief will send everywhere word that i am here. but who is the chief of the wah-hi-tis?' "'know you not?' replied one of the medicine men who knew the great desire of black fox to keep his and his son's name secret. 'it is black fox.' "a strange look came into the healer's face but he said nothing. "on the third day came laughing eyes to see the patient. "yet as she entered the room, she it was who knew. "'natawara, my son! natawara is here! wonderful is the great spirit.' and she took him in her arms even as she did when he was but a youth. "'it is natawara, natawara, son of black eagle!' "the news traveled fast. black fox came at a great pace. "'the healer is your brother. it is natawara.' a great light was in his eyes. brother and brother clasped hands, for each was filled with a great joy. "'it is good,' said the healer. "'you are our chief,' said black fox. "'not so,' was the reply. 'the leader is here and here lies the leader to come. my kingdom is elsewhere. i would that he who is saved should not feel the call to battle except for the things that are worth the fight.' "'so i shall teach him,' spoke up white cloud, a great resolve in her eyes. "'so it shall be, my brother,' announced black fox. "but when the fourteen moons had come and gone so also had natawara." jim lee paused. there was a silence of many moments. it spoke the appreciation of the three girls. "there's a lesson in the story for today, isn't there?" said mrs. saunders. chapter xvii aunt madge returns to the city jim lee left on thursday to join his regiment. there was a quiet leave-taking between mary lee and the man. neither showed emotion--it was kept within the depths of their hearts. on friday tom marshall left with several men for the mine. mr. saunders was to follow a few days later. mary lee received some disquieting news on the same day. dr. payson informed her that with the return of dr. anderson he intended to join the first assignment of physicians and nurses bound for france. he felt, however, that her services could be used by dr. anderson to good advantage. her experience would be of great help and under dr. anderson she would continue to progress. saturday afternoon found the old campfire group awaiting the train which was late. "won't aunt madge be pleased with our red cross work at the school?" commented grace olcott. "wonder if she'll be displeased at our group's merging with the red cross work?" remarked edith. "of course, she won't," answered ruth. "will she, mary lee?" the girls had an idea that mary lee's opinion and decision on most things was usually sound. "i'm sure she won't. she'll feel that it was a very democratic and sensible thing to do," was mary lee's answer. the train was in at last and the waiting girls stood on tiptoe watching the passengers as they came from the coaches. "i see her, i see her," called letty. "and there's dr. anderson and bob, too." but the other girls were no less quick in seeing the andersons and there was excited gesticulating as well as calls. finally, mrs. anderson saw them. she waved her hand and drew her husband's attention to the girls. the doctor lifted his hat and smiled at them. bob made his way through the throng for he also had espied them. he was the first to get to the gate. "hello girls!" he called. "hello, mary lee, it's good to see you." "i'm glad to see you, too," answered the girl. by that time aunt madge had also arrived and the former had embraced and kissed all the girls. "well, mary lee," she said, when it was her turn, "when i see you i feel i'm at home." "it certainly does seem so," added her husband who was keenly interested in his favorite. "dr. payson has been giving me some good reports of you, young lady." several of the girls had come in cars, so it was an easy matter to take everyone home. mary lee was seated with the andersons. bob was in the car with ruth. as they sped homeward, the conversation between ruth and bob naturally turned to mary lee. "do you know that jim lee and tom marshall were here? and that jim lee joined the army?" bob didn't know a thing about it as mary lee had not written to tell him. ruth was not a bit averse to telling him all about jim lee. "he's so nice and so romantic. and he's turned over his share of the money from his mine to mary lee. and tom marshall has returned to the mine. you'd like them both, bob." "guess i would," replied bob. "wish i could have gone with mr. marshall to the mine. i'm glad mary lee has seen mr. lee and i'm glad he's nice," he added. "isn't it all wonderful?" ruth concluded as they reached the home of the andersons. bob, too, got out at this point for he was going to stay with his aunt as his mother and father were out of town. he, therefore, did not get another chance that afternoon to talk to mary lee. [illustration: he made it a point to call on mary lee] bob, however, made up for lost time the next day for he made it a point to call on mary lee. he was to be in the city for only that day as he was due at school on monday. mary lee greeted him warmly. somehow, the stiffness of their greeting the day before was gone. neither could tell just why they had been so cool and so formally polite upon seeing each other, unless it was due to the fact that so many others were about. "i wish you had been here to see jim and mr. marshall, bob. i told them so much about you and they were very anxious to meet you." "no more than i am to meet them," was the reply of the boy. "tell me something more about everything. ruth told me but i want to hear it first-hand." mary lee went into an account of the meeting and everything that had happened. the boy listened intently. she then gave him an account of the red cross work and what the girls had done. bob was deeply interested. "our boy scouts at school are doing good work too. they are all anxious to spend vacation time on farms. i hope to get permission from mother and father to go to one during the summer. there isn't a boy at school who isn't anxious to help at this time and i wish you could see the big garden we have there. i wonder if jim lee will go to france," the boy added. "he is anxious to go, but of course no one knows what is to be done," replied mary lee. "isn't it great to be part of such a big undertaking? of course, war is terrible, but i've often envied the boys and men who lived during the civil war. now we are living in even bigger times and it's great to help, even if only in a small way." "i noticed yesterday how naturally you walk, bob. no one would ever suspect you had ever been lame." the boy flushed with pride. he was proud of the fact that he was now like other boys. he valued the use of both his limbs, the more, because he had been so long without their use. nothing pleased him so much as to be told he was like other boys. letty came in a little later and the three took a long walk. "isn't bob brave to travel by himself on a sleeper? i'd be scared," said letty. "huh," answered the boy, "that's because you're a girl. at that," he added, "i'll bet mary lee wouldn't be afraid." chapter xviii mary lee makes a decision it need not be thought for an instant that, in the rush of events of the last few days, the work of the red cross group had lessened. on the contrary, the mayor had replied almost at once and had given his permission, including that of the commissioner of parks, for the use of one of the parks in the neighborhood of the high school. in addition he had told them that other groups and clubs in other sections were receiving permission in the same way. monday brought a letter from the president of the railroad company. he told them that no written permission could be given but that any gardening done on their property would be respected by that company. upon receipt of this information miss james had written the newspapers so that proper publicity could be given the fact and people avail themselves of the opportunity to obtain a garden plot. the red cross girls met that night. over one hundred and fifty now belonged. all of them had donated some money at every meeting and the group now sent seventy-five dollars in cash to the red cross committee. at this meeting they were divided into six groups of twenty-five each and each group assigned to certain definite work on the big garden they were to start in the park. this idea had been suggested by one of the men on the park board who had been a visitor at the meeting. but it was a late spring. the weather stayed cold despite the eagerness and desire for warmth and sunshine on the part of the red cross workers. the girls felt that they had done almost everything possible in their gardening, and although a few found their interest abating, the larger number kept pluckily at the duty assigned to each. the days passed swiftly now. mrs. anderson soon made the girls understand that she was still aunt madge to them. she renewed her interest in their doings and was able to help miss james in the organization and planning of the red cross group. throughout the country the realization of war came slowly. somehow it was hard to believe that the country was at war, hard to realize that the german nation, so long on friendly terms with our own land, was now an enemy. it dawned slowly in people's minds. new york city was never so gay. soldiers were everywhere. one felt, however, that beneath the outward gayety and color the city was prepared for whatever might come. a rare treat was given to mary lee and letty who were invited by dr. anderson to accompany mrs. anderson and himself to a point of vantage where they could see general joffre and the ex-premier of france, monsieur viviani. never had the two girls been so impressed as they were by the simple, kindly looking old man in the uniform of france. there was a greatness about him which both girls felt. and mary lee also felt that it was a history-making epoch. she was glad that in the future she would be able to say that she had seen the big man of france. he was a character that one could never forget. in the meantime, dr. payson was making ready to close his office and to turn over his practice to dr. anderson. he had been pledged to secrecy as to sailing so his friends did not know just when he would be on his way to france. mary lee thought of the doctor's departure with many regrets. it had been valuable time that she had spent at his office; and although the girl had felt that he was in earnest as to her possible usefulness to dr. anderson, something aunt madge had said made mary lee decide that she could not accept, even if dr. anderson felt in duty bound to offer her the position. aunt madge and the girl had been shopping one saturday afternoon. the former was evidently still unaware of dr. payson's intention of going to the front. the conversation had turned to mary lee's work at the doctor's office and aunt madge was as interested as was the girl. "you see, dear, i, too, am helping dr. anderson in the same way. he has been so considerate, so kind. he objected to it at first, wanted to get the services of someone, although, as he regretfully said, 'there is only one mary lee.' he felt that it would be too much of a tax for me. he also added some silly, manlike remark about not wanting his wife to be his assistant. but i think he understands now. you see, dear, it is such a fine thing to be able to look forward to doing something worth while, to be able to help my husband. it is useful work, too, and i am learning rapidly." after that, of course, mary lee had no regrets in not offering her services to dr. anderson. at an early opportunity she brought the subject up before dr. payson. "i hope you haven't spoken to dr. anderson as to my going over to his office when you leave, doctor." the doctor looked at her in surprise. "have you decided that it is too hard work, my dear? i know it is and i do not blame you; especially so, since you are to receive a small income through mr. lee's fund. no, i haven't spoken to him as yet," the doctor continued. "i intend to do so within the next two days, however. i'm glad you spoke about it because this is the time to make up your mind." the girl flushed. she was hurt that the doctor should think she would so easily give up her life work. "it isn't that i don't want to do the work. that isn't why i don't want you to talk to dr. anderson." the girl paused uncertainly. she was not quite sure that she wanted to tell the real reason. then her uncertainty vanished--it was the thing to do. "you see, dr. payson, mrs. anderson is helping the doctor, and she loves the work. dr. anderson gave his consent but reluctantly. if you tell him to employ me, he might be even more reluctant about letting aunt madge help him. she loves it. so i thought it best to just let it be known that i can't spare the time. i shall give so much more time to the red cross group, but," and the girl looked squarely into the doctor's eyes, "i don't want you, or any one else, to think that i am undecided as to the profession i am to follow. i couldn't ever be happy and not become a nurse." dr. payson looked at the flushed girl admiringly. "i should have known by this time how you feel about it, mary lee. i shall not speak to dr. anderson about you. and you are right, it will be a very good thing in every way for mrs. anderson to do the work." "i knew you would understand," the girl gratefully acknowledged. a little later her afternoon's work was over and she left the office. the doctor, however, remained. he did not work, but sat silently thinking. an uncertain little smile played about his mouth. a day or two more and he would be off for the war. he welcomed the opportunity as do all true surgeons. but he knew there would often come to him the memory of this bright, serious-minded, unselfish young girl. "she's true blue," he finally commented as he prepared to depart. chapter xix letty and mary lee sell liberty bonds mr. saunders, letty's father, came home early the following evening. he had been down to mexico and had just returned. permission had been given by the mexican government for the furtherance of their plans. tom marshall, so he reported, was already busily at work and the prospects were very bright. mr. saunders spoke enthusiastically about the young man, and his ability. and his respect for jim lee had greatly increased from the accounts he had received from tom marshall and one or two of the men who were located in the neighborhood. both letty and mary lee were, of course, greatly interested, the latter for the best of reasons, although she somehow could not grasp the idea that more wealth was to be hers. she was gratified that letty's father--a careful, shrewd and conservative business man--should have made an exception in behalf of her friends. toward the end of the evening the girls suddenly bethought themselves of a plan they had formulated a few days before the arrival of letty's father. it was letty who opened the campaign. "we feel it our patriotic duty to sell you a liberty bond--or more than one," the girl added as the idea suddenly came to her that one was not very much for her rich father to buy. "oh," her father ejaculated in surprise. "and why, young lady?" and his words sounded so serious and businesslike that neither letty nor mary lee noticed the humor lurking in his eyes. "why should you feel it to be your duty to sell them to me?" "it is not only our duty to sell bonds, but it is the duty of everyone in the country." it was mary lee who answered and even as she spoke a sudden idea came to her mind. it was still a little hazy and so she said nothing more. "how many do you think i should buy?" mr. saunders queried trying hard to maintain a business-like appearance. "how many?" letty repeated. she tried hard to think of a number that would seem consistent. it was apparent to her father that she was flustered. "i think five would be right," and then it occurred to her that five wasn't enough. "i mean ten--or perhaps eight," the girl finally concluded, rather lamely. "well, my dears, it may interest you to know that i have bought not ten, nor eight, but two hundred; and i am to buy some more within the next few days." "my," said letty, in awed tones into which there crept a measure of disappointment. "then we cannot sell you any? not even one?" she added coaxingly, with a sudden renewal of hope. "you see, mr. saunders," mary lee turned to the work in hand with the feeling that her own idea would follow as a matter of course, "we girls in the red cross group have each volunteered to sell at least five liberty bonds. letty and i are to sell to some other people, but we counted on you, too." "and you don't want your count to be in vain, do you?" "no, sir," both girls replied. "all right then, i'll buy ten. is that satisfactory?" letty hugged her father and both girls danced in glee over their first success. mr. saunders looked at them with great pride and satisfaction. mary lee suddenly sobered and became business-like. "mr. saunders," she spoke diffidently. "any other business into which you desire to inveigle me?" he questioned. "yes, sir," the girl replied, while letty looked at her, a little uncertain as to what was coming. the girl continued: "the money that jim left for my use--i was wondering; of course, i don't know if it can be done--if it couldn't buy some liberty bonds." mr. saunders laughed. "of course it could. it wouldn't be so bad an investment either. we'll begin by buying a hundred shares for you." "thank you," mary lee replied, proud that jim's money was to be used in this way. "can we turn the order in?" asked the practical letty. "i suppose you can," her father replied. "that means, letty," mary lee exclaimed in awe, "that we already have one hundred and ten bonds sold. and we must sell some to the andersons and to the camerons. i shall write to tom marshall and ask him to buy some, too." "it may be that i shall have a surprise for you by tomorrow, too," mr. saunders added. he was interested in their success but he also felt that their efforts should not be too easily successful. he decided to call up the andersons and also the camerons who were to return from florida within the next few days and tell them not to be too easy in complying and the reasons for it. the work of getting subscriptions would be so much more worth-while if it did not bring too easy returns. "i suppose you girls know why these bonds are being issued and why they are called liberty bonds." "it is money for the war, and because germany is not a democratic nation the fight against it is called a fight for liberty, isn't it?" mary lee questioned. "there's more to it than that. if the hour were not so late i would give you some of the reasons for issuing these bonds; but mary lee gives the kernel in her explanation. isn't it time for these young ladies to go to bed, mother?" he asked as mrs. saunders came into the room. "that is the reason for my being here at this minute. it is time, my dears. ten o'clock has struck long since." but the girls would not go until they had excitedly explained their success in selling liberty bonds. "i'm disappointed, my dears," mrs. saunders said. "hurt, too. you never thought of asking me." the girls looked at her for the first time in the light of a customer. "and what is more," letty's mother added, taking advantage of the pause on the girls' part due to their surprise, "you can't sell me any tonight for it is too late." "but we surely will tomorrow," letty replied. "so let's be off to bed, mary lee." chapter xx preparing for red cross work mary lee and letty permitted but a small part of the morning to pass before they brought up the subject of mrs. saunders' purchase. "but, my dears, i'm not so sure that i care to buy from people who did not consider me a possible customer. i think i'll buy from someone who will give sufficient and proper importance to my purchase." but the girls could not be put off so easily and it ended by letty's mother laughingly agreeing to buy fifty bonds. the meeting of the red cross group was held that afternoon and both of the girls were elated with the report they were to make. their initial success was but a spur to them for further successes and they were keen to solicit from all the other people they knew. they felt no qualms about it, for it was a patriotic duty. miss james was amazed by the success of the members of the group and was strong in her approval. "altogether," she announced, "the sixty girls who have volunteered to do this work have sold a little less than fifteen hundred bonds. truly, a remarkable showing. it will be interesting to hear some of the accounts. don't you think so?" the girls agreed. mabel strong, one of the girls, was called on for her report. "i sold ten bonds to my father," she announced. "my brother will buy five. however, i have only counted those i have sold." as report followed report, it was found that in most instances those bonds that were sold were to members of families. an exception was the case of pauline antisdale, whose father was a well known surgeon. "my father was one of the first to subscribe," she reported. "i was too late, so he said. i did not know what to do. then i decided to see my father's patients for two days. father thought for a long time before he gave the necessary permission. but," pauline concluded in a quick manner which evidenced her excitement, "i sold fifteen bonds in this way." "good," miss james exclaimed, while the entire group applauded. "that idea was original and worth while." "i'm one of those who had to count on my family," letty explained apologetically. "mary lee and i worked as partners. mary lee, in addition made father buy at least one hundred bonds for her money. and she has written to a mr. marshall in mexico who will be sure to buy some liberty bonds too. and we are certain to bring in some more sales, in a few days." other girls made reports. when quite a number had been made, miss james addressed the girls. "of course, your success is quite wonderful. may i add, however, that such deeds as pauline's and mary lee's stand out. of course, mary lee was able to use some money which was her own but she showed that she did not ask anyone else to do what she was not willing to do herself. pauline and several of the other girls have shown originality. as you all know, it is the desire of the president to have all the people subscribe to the liberty bonds. it would be a simple matter if only those who are specially well-to-do should subscribe. "we will continue the sale of liberty bonds for ten more days. after that we shall have to turn our attention to getting contributions for the red cross work. how much do you think we can pledge our group to collect?" there was a pause of many minutes. finally ruth inquired: "how much do they expect us to collect?" the other girls nodded in approval of the question. "well," miss james answered, "mrs. anderson and i saw the local representative of the red cross committee, as you know. i told them that we had one hundred and twenty girls, some more active than others, some better able to collect subscriptions than others, although all are equally willing. they thought we should be able to collect three hundred dollars. do you think that is too much?" the girls thought for a few minutes. "if each of us collected two dollars and fifty cents, that would mean three hundred dollars, would it not, miss james?" one of the girls asked. miss james nodded her head in assent. "we will be able to do that, of course. let us pledge that much but make a private pledge to ourselves that we get at least five hundred dollars. i so move," said mary lee. "i second that," said ruth excitedly, while many of the other girls showed their approval of the idea. "very well, then," said miss james. "we'll understand, however, that no actual attempts will be made until next week so that it does not interfere with the sale of the bonds. "we are to have mrs. frances billings for a visit next friday evening. the committee on plans will arrange for a reception. mrs. billings, as you all know, is an official of the red cross work and it will be splendid for us to have her visit us. the committee on plans will meet tomorrow. is there anything else?" but nothing else had to be taken up that afternoon and the group adjourned. chapter xxi "what shall we wear?" mrs. anderson's interest in the girls had not abated in the least because of her marriage. she had watched with pride the work they had done as members of the red cross group. one morning each of the former campfire girls received an invitation to dinner at the anderson home. formal dinner invitations did not come often to the girls; they were not old enough as yet. you may be sure that it left them an excited, eager lot. the very next morning aunt madge received eight very formal acceptances. she smiled for she realized that the girls were very much flattered by the dignity of the invitation. she had purposely made it so for that very reason. thursday morning, the day of the party, found two girls greatly excited, on their way to school. "i haven't a thing to wear," said letty, with true feminine consistency. "nonsense," replied mary lee. "you surely can wear your pale blue voile. it goes so well with your pretty new hat. but as for myself, i haven't a fit dress for a formal dinner party." now, mary lee had purchased, with the aid of letty and mrs. saunders, two or three simple gowns, but as this dinner was to be formal, she was afraid none of her dresses would do for the occasion. "silly," replied letty, "if i had that love of a georgette crepe i wouldn't worry a minute." "i guess," remarked mary lee with great truth, "we never have the thing that is altogether satisfactory, it is always something we'd like to have." school was but a half day. it was so near the end of the term that an unusual amount of free time was permitted. the campfire girls were glad to have this leisure. they actually thought they needed it for getting ready. as a matter of fact, none of them really started to dress until five o'clock. at six-thirty letty and mary lee arrived. mrs. anderson was in formal evening dress as was dr. anderson. "i'm sure there are going to be older folks at the dinner," ruth, who had already arrived, whispered to letty. "look," and when the host and hostess were engaged elsewhere she pointed to the formality of their attire. "i don't think so," replied mary lee, who had overheard. "it's going to be our party only and they are treating us as grown-ups, that is all." and so it proved. the girls arrived promptly. the dinner was one of many courses. when it was over, dr. anderson arose and said: "i don't know just where i fit in. i guess i'm just a husband; but mrs. anderson thought i should tell you that we're very proud of our campfire girls and the unselfish work they have done; and since your work was the equal of work done by people who are grown-up, we thought the most fitting occasion would be a very formal dinner. it is on such occasions that older folks usually tell each other how clever and good they are. "but seriously, girls, your unselfish work in this great cause is what makes one happy in belonging to such a country. when the time comes, all of us, young and old, will give the best that is in us for our country. pretty soon my time will come, and i shall not fail to answer the call. but when i go, it will not be i who will do the worth-while thing--it will be my wife, who will see me go, smilingly and bravely, because it's the thing i must do. "it is you girls and you women, you see, who more and more are doing the big thing in a war like this." dr. anderson continued: "i've been very fortunate in knowing you young ladies and learning of your noble work. i can readily understand why my wife thinks so much of you. and, of course," dr. anderson's eyes twinkled, "i can understand why you all think so much of her." the girls laughed as dr. anderson sat down. "one of the reasons," said aunt madge, "i invited you tonight was to extend another invitation. we are leaving for mount hope over decoration day. all of you girls deserve a rest and i think it can be arranged for you to go with us. you can leave wednesday and come back saturday." the girls applauded enthusiastically. "good," said letty. "won't it be heavenly?" said ruth, equally enthusiastic. "it will be different from our thanksgiving party, for at least it is spring--and i love spring," said grace olcott. "you're the one that loved winter, too," said clara. "well, i did," replied grace, not a whit abashed, "i like them all as they come." "if we have half as good a time," said irma, "i'll be satisfied." letty and mary lee said nothing. the memory of that thanksgiving party when letty had tried to make trouble for mary lee was not a pleasant one for letty. mary lee also thought of it. she looked at letty into whose eyes tears began to well. "it's all right," whispered mary lee, as she put her hand over letty's, but in a way that the other people could not see. "we're good friends now. let's forget all of that." letty forced back her tears and gave her friend's hand a loving pat. "of course," said aunt madge, "you will have to receive the necessary permission both at school and at home. i hope you will be successful." "now, girls," mrs. anderson continued, "let's make no plans for our party and instead talk of what we can do in the way of making folks buy more liberty bonds. you see, we want to sell more among the people who would buy but a few shares." the conversation turned to how the red cross girls could further help. many suggestions were made and discussed. "i want to tell you," said mary lee, "that the red cross committee intends to go out for more money as soon as the sale of the liberty bonds closes." "do you think we should wait and do our work for the red cross?" asked edith. "i realize, of course, how well you girls have already done. miss james has given me the amount of subscriptions that the red cross girls have been able to obtain. it's truly wonderful. perhaps we might turn our efforts toward the red cross collections," said aunt madge. "suppose," mary lee suggested, "that we only accept aunt madge's invitation on condition that we get $16,000 worth of liberty bonds sold. that means each of us must sell $2,000 worth." "good idea, mary lee," dr. anderson cried enthusiastically. "we'll do it," said the rest of the girls. a little later the girls departed. it was a most enjoyable party, they all agreed. chapter xxii working for "liberty" a few days later mary lee received a letter from tom marshall. he had replied at once to her letter. he told her that he had instructed mr. saunders to arrange with her to buy his share of liberty bonds. things were going along well and the mine was a great success. he also told her that he had forwarded his name for registration so that he could be conscripted when the time came. "what do you hear of jim lee?" he inquired. lee had written only once to her, as the girl suddenly realized. it was over ten days since she had heard from him. but the afternoon brought a short note in which he announced that he had been transferred to the artillery division. he was going to see more active service, he wrote. when mr. saunders came home both letty and mary lee were waiting for him. "how many bonds did mr. marshall tell you to buy, dad?" asked letty. "why should he tell me to buy any bonds?" her father replied. "why, he wrote mary lee that he had communicated with you; and we must get four thousand dollars' worth sold," she added. "must?" mr. saunders repeated. "otherwise--so we have pledged--we cannot go on the decoration day party with mrs. anderson," mary lee added. "you mean that you have set a mark which you must attain in order to allow yourselves to go?" the girls nodded their heads very vigorously. "well, i call that a fine thing," replied letty's father. "you may put marshall down for fifteen hundred dollars, and i want to add that if you don't make the mark, come to me. i won't buy any more, but i'll see that you get a chance to sell some. now, be off with you, while i dress for dinner," and mr. saunders chuckled to himself. "and they worry about this country, when even the little girls are so serious-minded," he remarked to himself. mary lee, together with letty, called on the camerons the next day. "now," said mary lee, "to business, for that is what we came for." "has mr. cameron bought any liberty bonds? have you? will bob buy any?" "my goodness," replied mrs. cameron, "i don't know whether mr. cameron did or didn't. i know i did not. i never even thought of it. i don't think bob did, either." "well, you should buy some," mary lee advised. "you see, the country needs the money. uncle sam is behind these bonds and he pays three and one-half per cent." "three and one-half per cent?" repeated mrs. cameron. "my bank and my other bonds pay only three per cent." [illustration: mary lee writes to bob] "and better than that," added letty, "you don't have to pay taxes on liberty bonds." "it sounds so attractive," said mrs. cameron. "but i know very little of such things. i'll leave it to mr. cameron. if i buy any, part of them will be bought through you." "thank you," the girls replied. they told her about their pledge. "better write to bob and ask him to telegraph you if he will buy two shares. i think he can buy that many," suggested mrs. cameron. "i'll do it at once," said mary lee, and proceeded to suit action to words. "here comes mr. cameron's car," letty called. mr. cameron came in almost at once and greeted mary lee warmly. "it's good to see you again," he remarked as he removed his gloves. mary lee did not allow much time to elapse before she stated the purpose of their call. "i'm sorry, girls. of course, i've already bought the bonds. they are too good an investment to let pass." "what's more, i've bought some for mrs. cameron, too. however," and he paused, "between us we should be able to buy forty or fifty bonds. don't you think so, mother?" mrs. cameron smiling assented. "will that do?" he asked. "do? do? why, you're a dear," mary lee replied. they stayed for tea and had a pleasant visit. the girls promised to call when they returned from mount hope. "if we go," said letty. "we may not be successful in getting the subscriptions." "we simply must," replied mary lee. "tell you what i'll do," said mary lee. "i feel as if i should go out to see the quinns. i owe them a call. perhaps i can make mr. quinn understand how good these bonds are and if he has any savings he might want to buy some of them." "i'll go with you," letty replied. [illustration: "hello, mary lee, have you come to stay?"] the call on the quinns was made the next day. the girls took the train and walked to the home from the station. mary lee was delighted with the farm; it showed great improvement over the year before. mrs. quinn came to the door, one hand shading her eyes and the other partly lifting the apron which she wore while busy in the kitchen. "well, if it isn't mary lee and miss saunders!" she exclaimed. hearing the exclamation, two sturdy boys rushed past her and were shaking hands with the girls before the mother had a chance. "hello, mary lee," they greeted her joyfully. "have you come to stay?" "no, but i'm glad i'm here." mrs. quinn took mary lee in her arms. "i'm so glad to see you, dear, so glad." "i'm going for father," announced tom. he was off with a rush, the other boy close at his heels. chapter xxiii back on the farm. the girls sat on the porch during the entire afternoon. mr. and mrs. quinn were with them. "it is so comfortable and cheerful out here," mary lee remarked. "it's a wonderful place, isn't it?" added letty as she looked about. "yes, and it will always seem like home to me," mary lee replied. "we had a great summer last year. the farm did very well. this year promises to be much better. i tell you, it's a great place," and mr. quinn beamed. "mr. quinn has been waiting for dr. anderson to come out. he has saved considerable money and he wants dr. anderson to deposit it for him," volunteered mrs. quinn. letty looked at mary lee who in turn looked at her. "that's a queer coincidence," said the girl. "one reason why we came out was to find out if you and mr. quinn didn't want to buy some liberty bonds." mary lee then went on to explain about them and also told about the investments everyone she knew had made. "it pays fairly well, you see." "more than that," replied mr. quinn, "it's for uncle sam. i know something about it, but just hadn't decided that it applied to me. when you get back, mary lee," he continued, "will you get dr. anderson's consent? i have seven hundred dollars i can put into these bonds." "i will ask dr. anderson to write you about this investment," mary lee readily replied. "he'll probably buy yours with his own." the important business completed, the girls reluctantly disturbed their own comfort to follow the boys about the entire farm. the baby, over three years old now, was awake by this time. mary lee was quite disappointed over the fact that the child did not remember her, but she made friends very quickly with both of them. when the girls reached home it was close to eight. the next two days were hurried ones. a telegram came for mary lee monday night. at first she was greatly alarmed. "it's from bob, of course," letty reminded her. "why, to be sure." she tore open the envelope as she spoke. "he is going to buy three bonds," she cried delightedly as she handed the telegram to letty. "that gives us $850 over," mary lee announced after a few seconds' calculation. "some of the other girls may not have enough," letty remarked. "at any rate, we'll know tomorrow whether we go or not." the meeting was in the afternoon. some of the girls had fallen short in the number they sold, but edith, alone, had sold four thousand dollars' worth. the total amount--the girls held their breath while it was being figured--was nineteen thousand. "so we can all go?" asked ruth. "yes, you can go," replied aunt madge. "and to show you how much faith i had in you, i've gotten everything ready. we shall leave tomorrow morning at ten, from the grand central station." "let's not take any more things than we need," said mary lee. "very well," answered letty. "we'll use a steamer trunk for both of us. we simply can't use anything smaller, can we?" "i thought perhaps we could," replied mary lee rather meekly. "but we'll compromise on a small trunk, as you say." the girls were all ready by dinner time. after dinner they visited ruth, who lived close by. "i'm so glad you came, for you can help me decide what to take with me." "well, if you'll take our advice," said mary lee, "you won't take much." "i don't expect to," replied ruth. "you don't?" exclaimed the other two girls in amazement. "look what you already have laid out and i suppose you'll declare that you haven't half your things," said mary lee. "here, let's show you," added letty, who forgot that mary lee had earlier in the day urged her to cut down her own luggage. despite the excited exclamations of ruth over things she insisted she must have, the two other girls determinedly had their way. "now, isn't this better?" asked mary lee, when they were through packing, and her trunk, but half the size of the original, still had room for more things. "you mustn't forget you are only going for a few days." "very well," replied ruth, "i suppose you're right. but please," she begged, "just let me include these shoes--just these." "shall we, letty?" asked mary lee, pretending to be stern, but the least bit undecided. "if it's only these shoes, we will," replied her chum. "thank you," ruth said with mock humility. "thank you very much." chapter xxiv bound for the camp spring was late in the year 1917. the trees were just beginning to show in full foliage and the grass had the freshness and fragrance that only the early mornings of spring can give to it. mary lee, letty and ruth had awakened and dressed at four o'clock that morning. mary lee had suggested the night before that they do this and the two girls had loyally but sleepily carried out the plan. the party bound for mount hope had left on the seven o'clock adirondack express, the night before. when the three girls reached the observation platform, after going through a long line of sleeping coaches, the train was running parallel with champlain and was nearing plattsburg. it was a gorgeous sight and the three stood for several minutes enwrapped in its splendor. the lake, with the woods running close to its shore, presented a picture of crystal-like clearness. on the other side of it, the white and green mountains were beginning to show in more definite outline. the sun, too, began to herald the dawn of the new day, forming a rosy pink in the eastern sky, just over the mountain ranges. "my," said letty. "i'm glad we did get up." "we never really saw the adirondacks before, did we?" added ruth. "if mary lee had ever been up here before," letty further remarked, "i'm sure she never would have missed doing this kind of thing. it _took_ her to get us to do it now; without her, i think we would have come up here again and again and never have summoned sufficient energy to get up so early." on mary lee, the clearing outlines of the towering mountains on both sides of her, the magnificance of the lake, had all made a tremendous impression. never had sunrise meant so much to her. the girl had never, from that first day, when she was brought to the city, ever been further away from it than the farm. the beauty of this new environment dazzled her. her two friends, though not nearly so impressionable, yet found themselves stilled by the majesty of the quiet everywhere. so engrossed were the girls that they did not notice that dr. anderson had stopped just inside the door and was watching them as well as the dawning day. he stood there for ten minutes, then came out and joined them. mary lee gave him a brilliant smile. the three girls looked very pretty and attractive in their blouses. "isn't it perfect?" she offered with a sigh of pure joy in the splendor all about her. the doctor nodded smilingly. "it certainly is that," he answered. a little later the train entered plattsburg. "there's a two hour wait here, girls," dr. anderson informed them. "while the sleepy-heads are getting up, let's go up to see the famous plattsburg camp. shall we?" "splendid," replied letty enthusiastically, "let's." "of course," added the doctor, "we have but little time and so shall not be able to see very much. but even that little should prove interesting. many of our officers for the war will be turned out here and some of our great men have come here for training." as the doctor had remarked there was but little time to spend at the camp. the sergeant on guard showed them all that could be seen at that hour. both dr. anderson and mary lee were specially interested in the first aid equipment. although they had to make a hurried departure they were glad to have had this closer view of a camp destined to make history. it was almost six-thirty when they returned to the train which was scheduled to leave in twenty minutes. they found mrs. anderson and one or two of the girls already awake. "we've had a heavenly morning, aunt madge," said mary lee. "and i suppose you called the rest of us sleepy-heads for not being with you?" aunt madge answered. "i never had any idea it could be so beautiful," mary lee said in reply to a question of mrs. anderson's. "well, dear, you will find it even more so as we climb the adirondacks. we are to do that from now until we reach our point. let's all have breakfast, at least all of us who are awake and ready for it. i suppose you early risers must be starved." the three chums suddenly realized how hungry they were. it had not occurred to them until the subject was mentioned. it was almost nine o'clock when the party reached their station. the anderson camp was twelve miles away and the two automobiles waiting for them took almost an hour to climb to it. mary lee as well as the rest of the girls found the whole trip a panorama of delights. the country was wild and seemed to have escaped civilization. "to think," said one of the girls, "that a place as wild as this should be so near so big a city. it's hard to imagine, isn't it?" the camp picked by dr. anderson was truly in a wonderful spot. far from human habitation it was hidden from the narrow road up which the automobiles had come. it was three-quarters of the way to the top of mount hope. nearby lake ormond, a small body of water was almost hidden by trees and bushes all about it. the girls quickly changed to clothes that were comfortable and suitable. some of them found hammocks, some walked down to the lake. dr. anderson had told them that there were no fixed plans and that each one could do the thing that seemed most desirable. when he went into the house to interview the caretakers, mrs. anderson and several of the girls found a comfortable nook. irma and clara who were not inclined to be as strenuous as the rest of the girls joined her. mrs. anderson was doing some sewing. clara welcomed the opportunity to finish some beautiful tatting and irma was equally anxious to finish a story she had begun on the train. mary lee, letty, ruth and edith had decided on following one of the narrow foot-paths to the top of mt. hope. they stopped for a few minutes and added to the group about aunt madge. "i'm so glad i came," said edith. "there never was such a place." "how did you ever find it?" asked clara, looking up from her yoke. "it must have been a wonderful place for your honeymoon," said the sentimental irma. "yes, we think it rather pleasant," replied the hostess. "it would not have been easy to find, you may be sure. but dr. anderson knows this part of the adirondacks well and he claims that he picked this spot long ago for just such a purpose." "wasn't that lovely?" irma remarked, delighted at any promise of romance. "it's going to be very dear to us, always," aunt madge added. "and if our dear friends get half the fun and joy out of being here that we do we shall indeed think they are having a happy visit." "well, i for my part feel that i've already had an awful lot crowded into my holiday," said mary lee. "all the pleasure that's coming is so much added." "be sure to get back for lunch," aunt madge cautioned the four girls as they started off. "we wouldn't miss it for the world," letty called back. chapter xxv lost in the woods letty and edith were soon considerably ahead of ruth and mary lee who stopped often at the many pretty spots along the way. "isn't it lovely the way the path trails and yet continues ever upward?" said mary lee as the two made their way slowly ahead. "it seems so far from the city and war and liberty bonds," replied ruth dreamily. "but it's our country and it simply adds to our reason for being proud of it," the other girl answered. "but you are right, it is far away from things." at first the voices ahead were clearly distinct but now they were no longer heard. the road, too, in one or two places trailed into the woods and mary lee and ruth found that it was necessary to keep a sharp lookout not to wander off on one of these side trails. "here's how we can tell," the former suddenly called to ruth. "see these trees. someone must have marked them so as to show how to go." "it's what they call a blazed trail, i guess," ruth replied. "i've often heard my brother tell how he and his guide had found it necessary to blaze trails as they go." "i wonder where letty and edith are," mary lee suddenly remarked. "we haven't heard their voices for a long time." the two girls called for their friends. but there was no answer. "let's hurry," said ruth beginning to be alarmed. they hurried out but found no sign of their friends nor any answer to their calls. "i wonder where they can be," said mary lee. "do you suppose they wandered off on one of these trails? i suppose that's what they have done," she added, answering her own question. "let's turn back, mary lee," ruth advised. they did this at once. mary lee felt certain that the two girls could not have gone much further ahead. they came across one or two of the side trails but there was no sign of footprints. at one of these narrow paths they did see the mark of feet but after cutting into the woods for several hundred yards, they decided it was the point where they had found themselves branching off on their way up. they did not cease their calls but were unable to get a response. by this time it was midday and they were far from the camp. they had lost considerable time in zagzaging uncertainly from one point to another in their anxiety to locate their friends. "i wonder, ruth," mary lee questioned her friend, "whether you could find your way back and get help. it's only about two miles from here." "what will you do in the meantime?" ruth replied. "i hate to leave you alone." "i shall try to locate them. but i shall be always coming back to this point, so that you will know where to find me. see, i shall put this branch in the middle of the trail so that you will know." ruth hurried off. mary lee tied her handkerchief on a small branch of another tree so that there would be no mistake. she realized that ruth would not be able to bring help in less than an hour and so decided she was going to study the number of trails within a half mile and follow the one that seemed the most likely. a little further up the mountain she found a path that seemed almost as wide as the main trail and decided to follow it. she had gone but a little way when she noticed that it cut directly to her right and began to go down hill. now she hurried and began to call again. she received no answer but decided to continue on her way. the woods became thicker. the thorns and trailing branches scratched her arms and her face but she was unmindful of this. she made sure, however, of her way back. she had no wish to join the lost. she had cut into the woods about a mile by now and had ceased her calls. the woods were thick about her and almost inaccessible. "i must turn back," she thought dejectedly. "they're not this way." her dress was torn, her hair too, was not in its usual neat order. "letty, oh letty," she called with a last forlorn hope. there was silence for a few seconds. then from a considerable distance, she heard an answering voice. a little uncertain as to the location and inclined to believe that the hail might come from dr. anderson and the rescue party, she called again. the answer was clearer and seemed to come from about a quarter of a mile ahead of her. she hurried forward. soon she heard someone tearing through the brush and finally letty and edith appeared. as soon as the two girls saw mary lee they sat down and began to cry. "aren't we the sillies?" said edith tearfully. "we didn't think of crying until you found us." "we're certainly glad you did find us," letty added. the two girls presented a sorry picture. their faces and arms were scratched even more than mary lee's. their dresses, too, were torn and one of letty's stockings had a big hole in it. the three hurried back to the point mary lee had marked. as well as the two girls could, they explained how they had wandered off on a side trail without being aware of it. then they had suddenly realized they were in the thick of the woods. they had halloaed, but could not hear any answer. dr. anderson and aunt madge were already waiting for them. the girls could hear them calling their names and mary lee shouted in response that she found the two. when the party reached the camp, there were three girls who could not decide whether they were too hungry to be tired or too tired to be hungry. after luncheon had been finished and the girls' scratches dressed, dr. anderson joined his wife. "better not tell those children what a narrow escape they had. it is best for them not to know that there have been people lost in these woods who have starved to death." "i think, too, we had better not let them go off by themselves again," replied mrs. anderson. "they're not all mary lees, you know." so the andersons made light of the fact that letty and edith had strayed off. by the next day, the girls had almost forgotten the incident in the excitement of the pleasures and enjoyment of the vacation. chapter xxvi returning home the stay at mount hope came to a close much too swiftly for the girls, who had never enjoyed any outing so much. bob had come on saturday for the two days and after the first half hour of stiffness and shyness over being in the company of so many girls he found himself thoroughly at home. the boy had grown more manly. mary lee soon found that he preferred the company of boys now. she was glad of that, even though she knew that it took something from their own close friendship. she wanted bob to be a boy's boy and he was certainly proving himself that. he was greatly interested in the success of the girls' "liberty" sale. mary lee told him of the plans for the red cross week which was to begin on june 18th. the boy knew of that for his mother had written to him about it and he told mary lee of the plans his school had made to help during the same week. "i'm one of the committee, too," he told her with great pride. it was a still bright day when the party started for the station in the automobiles after waving a farewell to the caretakers. the train was due at the station at five o'clock. aunt madge had no wish to rush things and so had decided on an early start. bob left them at plattsburg. he was to cross champlain to burlington and from there take a train for the school. it was the idea of the girls that they would stay awake until late in the evening. but ten o'clock found most of them in their berths. at seven o'clock the following morning, the train arrived at the grand central. letty, edith and mary lee still showed traces of the scratches they had received in the woods. but they were not in the least disturbed by this for they carried the pleasantest recollections of a delightful party. if the truth were told, the incident of being lost, now that it was a thing of the past, carried a certain zest. letty had been quite vexed at herself for having cried when mary lee found them. she would have liked to pretend that she had not been at all frightened. edith, however, made an outright admission of how frightened she had been. "and letty," she rebuked the latter, "you know how scared you were. you needn't try to pretend you weren't." "well, _i was_, and so was ruth," mary lee admitted. "i suppose i must admit that i was, too," letty ruefully added. "though i would have liked to pretend that i was brave." "letty," said aunt madge very gravely as she put her arm about her and gave her a hug, "it's the brave people who are scared and frightened. it's people who are able to overcome their fear who are truly brave." the girls gathered together at the station and surrounded the andersons. aunt madge, happy, somewhat embarrassed, was the center of the group and received the evidence of the good time the girls had had with flushed face and genuine pleasure. people passing by stopped to watch the pretty party. "now for school," said edith, as the girls began to separate to get ready for the same. "another month and our real vacation time begins." "yes," replied mary lee, "but we mustn't, in the meantime, forget the things we must plan and do for the red cross before that vacation time comes. remember our promise, don't you, for the week of june 18th?" "we certainly do," replied the other girls enthusiastically. chapter xxvii another adventure "oh, what a long week this is!" cried letty, a few days later as she walked home from school with mary lee and edith. "yes, school is certainly dragging along at a slow pace these last few weeks," added edith. "i suppose it's because our thoughts are more on our coming vacation than on our studies," said mary lee. "we ought to feel bright and perfectly willing to work hard after our delightful outing, but somehow i must confess i don't." "neither do i. the taste of fun we had was so good we want more. i wish some one would invite us to another week-end party or something," said letty. "oh, wouldn't that be great! mother has some friends who are at their lovely country home over on long island. if they would only invite us over," said edith. they had just reached letty's home when they spied the postman coming out. "did you leave a letter for me?" cried letty. "yes, indeed," replied the postman, "a nice big fat one, too." "oh, come on in, girls, till i see if there's anything worth while in it," cried letty bounding up the front steps. the girls were glad to stop in for awhile, for the house was cool and delightful, while the heat outside was intense for a june day. letty tore the letter open hurriedly, and glanced first of all at the signature. "oh, girls, it's from cousin edna! what do you suppose she wants?" "why not read it and see?" asked edith, who was quite consumed with curiosity. letty did. a smile lighted up her face as she turned over the first page. by the time she finished the letter she was ready to dance, she was so excited. "calm yourself, child, calm yourself, till we know what it's all about," cried mary lee. "talk about luck!" exclaimed letty. "just think, cousin edna's camp fire group is off on a camping expedition. she thinks it would be a 'lark' if some of our girls could come over and visit them for a day or so at their camp." "_can_ we?" cried edith, "well, i should say we could. tomorrow is friday, so why not go this week? i'm sure my mother will consent to let me go. whom else shall we ask beside us three?" "nobody," said letty. "we can have a better time if we go by ourselves. cousin edna says they are living in tents about five miles out from the railroad station. of course we shall have to 'hike' all the way over from the station, but won't it be fun? we can wear our khaki suits and carry our blankets strapped around us. the camp is on the beach and we can take our swimming suits along." "and we can sleep on the beach," cried mary lee, "and watch the stars. i've always wanted to do that." "come on home," cried edith to mary lee, "and see what mother has to say. i'm sure she will think it a lovely plan. letty, you find your mother and get her consent." "when shall we start?" cried letty. "tomorrow afternoon, right after school," said mary lee. "we can go by train to port washington and 'hike' over to the camp." "yes," said letty, "i'll have father look up the time-table and see how late a train we can get, so that we can do our walking as the sun is setting. the woods will be so pretty then." "but suppose it gets dark before we reach camp," said edith. "all the more fun. we can take along a flash-light. father has one that gives out a big light. he bought it when he went fishing not long ago. i'll ask him to lend it to us," said letty, "and mother has some regular u. s. army blankets that she takes when we go to the mountains every summer. she'll let us each take one. they will be just the thing if we want to sleep on the beach." chapter xxviii "help! help!" when the three girls started on their expedition the next day, they were the center of attention at the depot. each wore a khaki suit, consisting of a middy blouse and bloomers, heavy leggings and soft felt hat. their blankets were thrown over their shoulders and strapped at the side. inside the rolled blanket each had a sweater, a bathing suit and a cap. one girl carried a camera, one a box of lunch and the other a flash light. "aren't we loaded though?" cried letty as they seated themselves in the train. "i should say so. i feel like tartarin when he started to climb the alps," said edith. "i never heard of tartarin," said mary lee. "who was he?" "didn't you ever read 'tartarin of tarascon,' by alphonse daudet?" asked letty. "no, but i've heard of daudet. he was a celebrated frenchman, wasn't he?" "yes, and tartarin was the dearest old fellow. he started out to climb the alps--loaded himself with rope, woolen clothing, alpine stick, etc. we had to read the book last year in our french class," said letty. "wasn't it the hardest french you ever read?" asked edith. "it seemed to me i had to use my dictionary for every other word. but dear me, why talk about school and studies when we're off on a 'lark'?" "that's what i say," said mary lee. "let's make up a song that we can sing as we trudge along the road." "how about using the tune of 'the bear went over the mountain'?" asked edith. "just the thing," cried letty. "how's this?-"we took our beds on our ba-acks--" "oh, no," said mary lee. "it's better to say 'we took our beds on our shoulders.'" the girls were so busy working on their song that they were surprised when the conductor called "port washington." how the townspeople did stare as the three girls set out down the road! several soldiers, standing on a corner smiled as they whistled the song: "oh here she comes, there she goes all dressed up in her sunday clothes." "don't you feel like a freak?" asked edith, rather sorry now she had worn her bloomer suit. "indeed i don't," answered letty. "these khaki bloomer suits are the latest fad for 'hikers.' i had a letter from my aunt who is at a fashionable summer resort in michigan. she said that there was a party of young people spending the week end at the same hotel and that all the young women of the party wore bloomer suits and looked just too cute for anything. they are university students and had walked all the way from chicago. they were making a study of the sand dunes, lake currents and change of river beds. a professor was with them." "how delightful," said mary lee. "i'd love to join a party like that, only i'd rather study botany." by this time the road led into a deep wood where the setting sun flashed its red light through the verdant foliage. "isn't this ideal?" exclaimed edith. "look at those noble looking trees!" "what kind are they?" asked letty. "i never could tell one tree from another." "those are red oak and those over there are white," explained mary lee. "they look just alike to me," said letty. "how can you tell which is which?" "the red oak has pointed leaves and its acorns ripen every year. but the white oak's leaves are rounded and it takes two years for its acorns to ripen," explained mary lee. "oh, look here," cried edith, bending over a bed of dry leaves. "here's an indian pipe growing. i haven't seen one for years." "why, it's pure white," said letty. "not a bit of green on it. even the root and the stem are white. it is like a regular miniature white clay pipe, isn't it?" "one could almost blow soap bubbles through it," added edith. "but come, girls, we must hurry on. it will be dark before we know it." "who is afraid?" said mary lee, "we have a flash light." "how would you like to have a cup of sassafras tea?" asked edith, examining a small shrub. "where would you get the sassafras?" asked letty. "come over here and help me pull up this baby tree and i'll show you," said edith. all three girls pulled and up came the little tree, roots and all. then edith took her jack knife which hung on a chain from her belt and peeled off bits of the bark down around the roots, and gave each of the girls a taste. "it's sassafras all right," said edith, "but it doesn't look like the kind the women sell on the street corners in town. that's more reddish looking. why is that, i wonder?" "don't ask me," said edith. "i think i'm smart enough in knowing it's sassafras. why worry over its color?" "oh, here's a snail in its shell," said mary lee, picking up a round, brownish shell from the sandy path. "come out here, mr. snail and show yourself," she said, holding the end of a long stick at the opening of the shell. after a few minutes, there was a movement within, and out came a head. "look at its horns," said letty. "aren't they long?" "those aren't horns, those are its eyes at the very end of what appear to be horns. watch, it is crawling entirely out of its shell. isn't it funny looking, as it crawls along, carrying its shell on its back?" said mary lee. "and to think people eat the horrid little things," said letty. "they do?" exclaimed mary lee. "whoever would eat them?" "the french are very fond of them," explained letty. "haven't you ever seen the word 'escargots' on the menu cards?" "i have," said edith, "but i must confess that my french is so limited i never dreamed it meant snails, though." by this time the road led again into the open, with woods on one side and farm lands on the other. the sun had now disappeared and night would soon settle down, so the girls quickened their pace. "do you think we can make it before it's pitch dark?" asked edith, the most timid of the crowd. "it seems to me we have walked about five miles already." "oh, no, we haven't, but i do think we are within two miles or so of our destination. cousin edna and the camp fire guardian are going to walk out and meet us. i suppose they have started by this time," said letty. "i'm glad we don't have to go through any more woods. this road is fine and hard," said edith. it was now quite dark, so mary lee walked ahead and flashed on the light. suddenly they heard a strange noise. "oh, what is that?" cried edith, rushing on ahead, not waiting to find out from which direction the sound came. suddenly there was a dreadful scream from edith, on ahead. "help, help!" she cried. "oh, girls, where am i?" mary lee and letty rushed on ahead, flashing the light. in the middle of the road sat edith and near her was stretched a big cow, half asleep. edith, in trying to run from the mooing cow, had run upon it instead. it had evidently strolled away from a nearby farmhouse. "the big boob," said edith, "to stretch itself out in the middle of the road. it was a dreadful sensation to fall against that big hot animal, and not know what it was," she laughingly said, now beginning to see the funny side of the incident. "listen," said letty, "what's that whistle?" "it's the campfire guardian's whistle," exclaimed mary lee. "they must be near us now." "what a relief," sighed edith, picking herself up, and trudging on after the others. when cousin edna and the camp fire guardian met the girls, there was great rejoicing and before long all five arrived at camp. the "hikers" were pretty tired, so they soon unstrapped their blankets and made ready to sleep. "i'm so glad cousin edna could manage to get us cots to sleep on up here in the tents. i'm too tired to try it on the beach tonight," said letty. "me too," said edith. "falling over that cow in the pitch dark was sensation enough for one night." "perhaps we'll feel more like it tomorrow night. i'd hate to go back to town without sleeping down on the beach one night," said mary lee, unrolling her blanket. "isn't this a scheme to sleep in our bathing suits, so as to be all ready to run down and take a dip at sunrise tomorrow morning!" exclaimed letty. "i should say so. i do so love to take an early morning plunge," said mary lee, jumping into bed. chapter xxix letty's surprise "my! doesn't this bacon taste delicious!" exclaimed mary lee, the next morning as the campfire girls were gathered for breakfast in the mess tent. "and this corn bread and the cantaloupe," added letty. "that early plunge surely gives one a great appetite, doesn't it?" "yes, indeed, but don't eat so slow. remember we have to wash our dishes and clear up our own tents before we can do what we like." "that's so," said mary lee, "see, some of the girls are through already." as each girl finished, she gathered up her own dishes, walked to the end of the big table and washed and rinsed them in the big pans, placed there for that purpose. after breakfast the tents were put in order, and when everything was ready the guardian inspected them all, to see which tent should be awarded first honors for the day. the guardian was about to select the tent in which letty's cousin edna slept when she discovered a hair pin sticking up between the boards in front of the tent. "my, isn't she a strict campfire guardian?" whispered edith to letty. "i should say so! weren't we lucky to have aunt madge for our guardian?" said letty, "instead of one like her?" cousin edna came up just then to tell the girls that she wanted them to come over and meet her friend josephine. "she's the dearest little french girl. her father was killed two years ago over in france. immediately afterwards she and her mother came to this country to raise funds for the french red cross. the mother can't think of anything but the war. she's a regular fanatic on the subject. she gives lectures around at the houses of the 'four hundred' and has made no end of big money for the good cause." "but how did the daughter get to be a campfire girl?" asked edith. "the guardian of our camp met her several times at lectures and felt sorry for her. she seemed to be growing melancholy from so much war talk. she never went anywhere except with her mother, so our guardian took her under her wing, asked her to join our camp and now she's the favorite everywhere. she's getting her color back and is almost jolly at times." "i suppose she can tell blood-curdling stories about the war scenes she saw before coming to this country." "yes, indeed; but we try to get her mind off the war because it has such a depressing effect on her. but she can tell you the most fascinating things about 'gay paree' before the war. her father was a member of president poincaire's cabinet before he enlisted, and she used to attend all the state balls at the elysee palace." "how thrilling!" exclaimed letty. "do introduce us." "isn't she a perfect darling?" whispered edith to mary lee, after the introduction was over. the girls then passed a delightful hour, playing their ukuleles and telling stories. at eleven o'clock all went down to the beach for a swim. what fun they had diving from the spring board and learning the "australian crawl." after dinner they had rest-hour till 2:30. they had to keep pretty quiet, so our three "hikers," cousin edna and the french girl decided to sit outside their tent and read. "but whatever shall we read?" asked letty. "we have some books here," said cousin edna, rummaging around in an empty soap box, which stood on end, and took the place of a wash-stand in the tent. "how are these titles: 'woodland nymphs,' 'oh jerry, be careful,' 'mr. ripling sees it too,' 'the baby and the bachelor'?" "that's the one," cried all the girls in chorus as the last title was called out. the book proved to be an interesting one. in fact, it made them laugh so, that it was not long before the guardian came to hush them up and to remind them that it was "rest hour." "are we going to have our beach supper tonight?" asked cousin edna. "yes, and if you like," replied the guardian, "we can take our blankets and sleep all night on the beach." "lovely," cried all the girls at once. "let's get ready at once, shall we?" soon the picnic basket was packed and off they started to a pretty point two miles down the sandy beach. the first thing they did upon arriving was to gather enough wood to make a fire. then they hunted up a large clean-looking stone and put it in the fire to heat. while this was heating some of the girls gathered long blades of strong grass and wove two mats the size of the top of the stone. as soon as the stone was heated, they pulled it out of the fire and dug a big hole in the sand in which they placed it. around and over it they put hot ashes. they had brought a supply of nice fresh fish already cleaned and seasoned. these they placed between the grass mats and then covered the mats over with more ashes. "do you mean to say that the fish will cook like that?" asked mary lee. "indeed they will," said cousin edna, "and they will be so delicious you will wish you could have them cooked like that all the time." "how long will it take to cook them that way?" asked letty. "about an hour," replied cousin edna. "in the meantime, we can all gather wood for our big fire tonight. we are going to roast corn and toast marshmallows this evening." "we have a lot of wood already," said letty. "see the big pile over there!" "bless you, child, that's nothing. we have to have enough to keep the fire going all night." "all night?" exclaimed edith. "whoever has to sit up and tend it all night? i'd certainly hate that job." "oh, no one has to tend the fire _all_ night. a number of us are chosen and each one has to keep watch an hour at a time," explained cousin edna. "it must be hard to sit up a whole hour; i'm sure i'd go off to sleep," said letty. "you can doze if you like, but you have to keep one eye on the fire. you see, it gets very chilly on the beach before morning and the fire helps a lot. besides, it keeps away the mosquitoes." what a delicious beach supper they had and what a delightful evening they passed afterwards, telling stories, etc. when nine o'clock came each girl put on her sweater and rolled herself in her blanket. "here's where i sleep," said letty, throwing herself down on the beach and piling sand into a heap for a pillow. "good idea," said edith, "let's all make pillows out of sand." the night on the beach proved to be a delightful one, to all but one of the girls. she woke up next morning with a stiff neck from sleeping in a cramped position, and could not go in bathing. thanks, however, to mary lee's training under dr. payson, and her red cross first aid lessons, she knew just how to massage the girl's neck and thus relieved the pain in a short time. after bathing, the girls all walked back to camp, where the cook had prepared a good substantial breakfast for them. they then passed the day quietly as it was sunday. late that afternoon, letty, mary lee and edith said good-bye and started on their homeward journey. "wasn't it a delightful trip?" said mary lee, as they finally reached the railroad station. "just splendid," answered the two other girls in one breath. "i have some good news for you, too," said letty. "oh, don't keep us in suspense," cried edith. "i have invited cousin edna and her little french friend josephine to come and spend a week with us when we go up to our log cabin in the catskills in july," said letty. "mother said i could invite a party of girls for a week, before she begins to fill the house with her company. you see, there will be five of us." "oh, letty, you darling," cried edith, leaning over and giving her a hug. "that's the best plan of any," said mary lee. "i'd love to go if you will let me devote a part of the time to making those 'housewives' that we have to make. you know, uncle sam only provides one housewife for each four soldiers and that is not enough. each soldier must have his own." "indeed he should," said letty. "now that brother ted's number was chosen in the draft, i am going to get right down to serious work and do everything i can to help. we can devote a certain part of each day to our red cross work and in that way set a good example to all the nearby summer colonies. you ought to see the quantity of yarn that mother is laying away to take up there for knitting wristlets and scarves." "it won't be like work up there, either," said mary lee. "i've heard it's just wonderful up in the catskill mountains." "it is," answered letty, "and our cabin is immense. it has a porch screened in on three sides, a wonderful fireplace, and the most fragrant pillows of pine needles. you'll just love it, i know." "here we are at the station, already," cried edith. "after we ferry over, let's take a taxi up home. it's sunday, you know, and i'd hate to meet anyone in these togs." "i don't particularly care about how we look, but a taxi would be just the thing," exclaimed letty. "i'm beginning to feel tired." "the next few weeks of school won't drag a particle," said edith, "now that we have our mountain trip to look forward to." "indeed not, thanks to letty," said mary lee, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. * * * * * +------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected in | | this text. for a complete list, please see the bottom of | | this document. | | | +------------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * the modern library of the world's best books candide by voltaire the publishers will be glad to mail complete list of titles in the modern library. the list is representative of the great moderns and is one of the most important contributions to publishing that has been made for many years. every reader of books will find titles he needs at a low price in an attractive form. [illustration: voltaire.] candide by voltaire introduction by philip littell boni and liveright, inc. publishers new york copyright, 1918, by boni & liveright, inc. printed in the united states of america introduction ever since 1759, when voltaire wrote "candide" in ridicule of the notion that this is the best of all possible worlds, this world has been a gayer place for readers. voltaire wrote it in three days, and five or six generations have found that its laughter does not grow old. "candide" has not aged. yet how different the book would have looked if voltaire had written it a hundred and fifty years later than 1759. it would have been, among other things, a book of sights and sounds. a modern writer would have tried to catch and fix in words some of those atlantic changes which broke the atlantic monotony of that voyage from cadiz to buenos ayres. when martin and candide were sailing the length of the mediterranean we should have had a contrast between naked scarped balearic cliffs and headlands of calabria in their mists. we should have had quarter distances, far horizons, the altering silhouettes of an ionian island. colored birds would have filled paraguay with their silver or acid cries. dr. pangloss, to prove the existence of design in the universe, says that noses were made to carry spectacles, and so we have spectacles. a modern satirist would not try to paint with voltaire's quick brush the doctrine that he wanted to expose. and he would choose a more complicated doctrine than dr. pangloss's optimism, would study it more closely, feel his destructive way about it with a more learned and caressing malice. his attack, stealthier, more flexible and more patient than voltaire's, would call upon us, especially when his learning got a little out of control, to be more than patient. now and then he would bore us. "candide" never bored anybody except william wordsworth. voltaire's men and women point his case against optimism by starting high and falling low. a modern could not go about it after this fashion. he would not plunge his people into an unfamiliar misery. he would just keep them in the misery they were born to. but such an account of voltaire's procedure is as misleading as the plaster cast of a dance. look at his procedure again. mademoiselle cunégonde, the illustrious westphalian, sprung from a family that could prove seventy-one quarterings, descends and descends until we find her earning her keep by washing dishes in the propontis. the aged faithful attendant, victim of a hundred acts of rape by negro pirates, remembers that she is the daughter of a pope, and that in honor of her approaching marriage with a prince of massa-carrara all italy wrote sonnets of which not one was passable. we do not need to know french literature before voltaire in order to feel, although the lurking parody may escape us, that he is poking fun at us and at himself. his laughter at his own methods grows more unmistakable at the last, when he caricatures them by casually assembling six fallen monarchs in an inn at venice. a modern assailant of optimism would arm himself with social pity. there is no social pity in "candide." voltaire, whose light touch on familiar institutions opens them and reveals their absurdity, likes to remind us that the slaughter and pillage and murder which candide witnessed among the bulgarians was perfectly regular, having been conducted according to the laws and usages of war. had voltaire lived to-day he would have done to poverty what he did to war. pitying the poor, he would have shown us poverty as a ridiculous anachronism, and both the ridicule and the pity would have expressed his indignation. almost any modern, essaying a philosophic tale, would make it long. "candide" is only a "hamlet" and a half long. it would hardly have been shorter if voltaire had spent three months on it, instead of those three days. a conciseness to be matched in english by nobody except pope, who can say a plagiarizing enemy "steals much, spends little, and has nothing left," a conciseness which pope toiled and sweated for, came as easy as wit to voltaire. he can afford to be witty, parenthetically, by the way, prodigally, without saving, because he knows there is more wit where that came from. one of max beerbohm's cartoons shows us the young twentieth century going at top speed, and watched by two of his predecessors. underneath is this legend: "the grave misgivings of the nineteenth century, and the wicked amusement of the eighteenth, in watching the progress (or whatever it is) of the twentieth." this eighteenth century snuff-taking and malicious, is like voltaire, who nevertheless must know, if he happens to think of it, that not yet in the twentieth century, not for all its speed mania, has any one come near to equalling the speed of a prose tale by voltaire. "candide" is a full book. it is filled with mockery, with inventiveness, with things as concrete as things to eat and coins, it has time for the neatest intellectual clickings, it is never hurried, and it moves with the most amazing rapidity. it has the rapidity of high spirits playing a game. the dry high spirits of this destroyer of optimism make most optimists look damp and depressed. contemplation of the stupidity which deems happiness possible almost made voltaire happy. his attack on optimism is one of the gayest books in the world. gaiety has been scattered everywhere up and down its pages by voltaire's lavish hand, by his thin fingers. many propagandist satirical books have been written with "candide" in mind, but not too many. to-day, especially, when new faiths are changing the structure of the world, faiths which are still plastic enough to be deformed by every disciple, each disciple for himself, and which have not yet received the final deformation known as universal acceptance, to-day "candide" is an inspiration to every narrative satirist who hates one of these new faiths, or hates every interpretation of it but his own. either hatred will serve as a motive to satire. that is why the present is one of the right moments to republish "candide." i hope it will inspire younger men and women, the only ones who can be inspired, to have a try at theodore, or militarism; jane, or pacifism; at so-and-so, the pragmatist or the freudian. and i hope, too, that they will without trying hold their pens with an eighteenth century lightness, not inappropriate to a philosophic tale. in voltaire's fingers, as anatole france has said, the pen runs and laughs. philip littell. contents chapter page i. how candide was brought up in a magnificent castle, and how he was expelled thence 1 ii. what became of candide among the bulgarians 5 iii. how candide made his escape from the bulgarians, and what afterwards became of him 9 iv. how candide found his old master pangloss, and what happened to them 13 v. tempest, shipwreck, earthquake, and what became of doctor pangloss, candide, and james the anabaptist 18 vi. how the portuguese made a beautiful auto-da-fé, to prevent any further earthquakes: and how candide was publicly whipped 23 vii. how the old woman took care of candide, and how he found the object he loved 26 viii. the history of cunegonde 30 ix. what became of cunegonde, candide, the grand inquisitor, and the jew 35 x. in what distress candide, cunegonde, and the old woman arrived at cadiz; and of their embarkation 38 xi. history of the old woman 42 xii. the adventures of the old woman continued 48 xiii. how candide was forced away from his fair cunegonde and the old woman 54 xiv. how candide and cacambo were received by the jesuits of paraguay 58 xv. how candide killed the brother of his dear cunegonde 64 xvi. adventures of the two travellers, with two girls, two monkeys, and the savages called oreillons 68 xvii. arrival of candide and his valet at el dorado, and what they saw there 74 xviii. what they saw in the country of el dorado 80 xix. what happened to them at surinam and how candide got acquainted with martin 89 xx. what happened at sea to candide and martin 98 xxi. candide and martin, reasoning, draw near the coast of france 102 xxii. what happened in france to candide and martin 105 xxiii. candide and martin touched upon the coast of england, and what they saw there 122 xxiv. of paquette and friar giroflée 125 xxv. the visit to lord pococurante, a noble venetian 133 xxvi. of a supper which candide and martin took with six strangers, and who they were 142 xxvii. candide's voyage to constantinople 148 xxviii. what happened to candide, cunegonde, pangloss, martin, etc. 154 xxix. how candide found cunegonde and the old woman again 159 xxx. the conclusion 161 [illustration: voltaire's candide] candide i how candide was brought up in a magnificent castle, and how he was expelled thence. in a castle of westphalia, belonging to the baron of thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth, whom nature had endowed with the most gentle manners. his countenance was a true picture of his soul. he combined a true judgment with simplicity of spirit, which was the reason, i apprehend, of his being called candide. the old servants of the family suspected him to have been the son of the baron's sister, by a good, honest gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady would never marry because he had been able to prove only seventy-one quarterings, the rest of his genealogical tree having been lost through the injuries of time. the baron was one of the most powerful lords in westphalia, for his castle had not only a gate, but windows. his great hall, even, was hung with tapestry. all the dogs of his farm-yards formed a pack of hounds at need; his grooms were his huntsmen; and the curate of the village was his grand almoner. they called him "my lord," and laughed at all his stories. the baron's lady weighed about three hundred and fifty pounds, and was therefore a person of great consideration, and she did the honours of the house with a dignity that commanded still greater respect. her daughter cunegonde was seventeen years of age, fresh-coloured, comely, plump, and desirable. the baron's son seemed to be in every respect worthy of his father. the preceptor pangloss[1] was the oracle of the family, and little candide heard his lessons with all the good faith of his age and character. pangloss was professor of metaphysico-theologico-cosmolo-nigology. he proved admirably that there is no effect without a cause, and that, in this best of all possible worlds, the baron's castle was the most magnificent of castles, and his lady the best of all possible baronesses. "it is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for all being created for an end, all is necessarily for the best end. observe, that the nose has been formed to bear spectacles--thus we have spectacles. legs are visibly designed for stockings--and we have stockings. stones were made to be hewn, and to construct castles--therefore my lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. pigs were made to be eaten--therefore we eat pork all the year round. consequently they who assert that all is well have said a foolish thing, they should have said all is for the best." candide listened attentively and believed innocently; for he thought miss cunegonde extremely beautiful, though he never had the courage to tell her so. he concluded that after the happiness of being born of baron of thunder-ten-tronckh, the second degree of happiness was to be miss cunegonde, the third that of seeing her every day, and the fourth that of hearing master pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the whole province, and consequently of the whole world. one day cunegonde, while walking near the castle, in a little wood which they called a park, saw between the bushes, dr. pangloss giving a lesson in experimental natural philosophy to her mother's chamber-maid, a little brown wench, very pretty and very docile. as miss cunegonde had a great disposition for the sciences, she breathlessly observed the repeated experiments of which she was a witness; she clearly perceived the force of the doctor's reasons, the effects, and the causes; she turned back greatly flurried, quite pensive, and filled with the desire to be learned; dreaming that she might well be a _sufficient reason_ for young candide, and he for her. she met candide on reaching the castle and blushed; candide blushed also; she wished him good morrow in a faltering tone, and candide spoke to her without knowing what he said. the next day after dinner, as they went from table, cunegonde and candide found themselves behind a screen; cunegonde let fall her handkerchief, candide picked it up, she took him innocently by the hand, the youth as innocently kissed the young lady's hand with particular vivacity, sensibility, and grace; their lips met, their eyes sparkled, their knees trembled, their hands strayed. baron thunder-ten-tronckh passed near the screen and beholding this cause and effect chased candide from the castle with great kicks on the backside; cunegonde fainted away; she was boxed on the ears by the baroness, as soon as she came to herself; and all was consternation in this most magnificent and most agreeable of all possible castles. ii what became of candide among the bulgarians. candide, driven from terrestrial paradise, walked a long while without knowing where, weeping, raising his eyes to heaven, turning them often towards the most magnificent of castles which imprisoned the purest of noble young ladies. he lay down to sleep without supper, in the middle of a field between two furrows. the snow fell in large flakes. next day candide, all benumbed, dragged himself towards the neighbouring town which was called waldberghofftrarbk-dikdorff, having no money, dying of hunger and fatigue, he stopped sorrowfully at the door of an inn. two men dressed in blue observed him. "comrade," said one, "here is a well-built young fellow, and of proper height." they went up to candide and very civilly invited him to dinner. "gentlemen," replied candide, with a most engaging modesty, "you do me great honour, but i have not wherewithal to pay my share." "oh, sir," said one of the blues to him, "people of your appearance and of your merit never pay anything: are you not five feet five inches high?" "yes, sir, that is my height," answered he, making a low bow. "come, sir, seat yourself; not only will we pay your reckoning, but we will never suffer such a man as you to want money; men are only born to assist one another." "you are right," said candide; "this is what i was always taught by mr. pangloss, and i see plainly that all is for the best." they begged of him to accept a few crowns. he took them, and wished to give them his note; they refused; they seated themselves at table. "love you not deeply?" "oh yes," answered he; "i deeply love miss cunegonde." "no," said one of the gentlemen, "we ask you if you do not deeply love the king of the bulgarians?" "not at all," said he; "for i have never seen him." "what! he is the best of kings, and we must drink his health." "oh! very willingly, gentlemen," and he drank. "that is enough," they tell him. "now you are the help, the support, the defender, the hero of the bulgarians. your fortune is made, and your glory is assured." instantly they fettered him, and carried him away to the regiment. there he was made to wheel about to the right, and to the left, to draw his rammer, to return his rammer, to present, to fire, to march, and they gave him thirty blows with a cudgel. the next day he did his exercise a little less badly, and he received but twenty blows. the day following they gave him only ten, and he was regarded by his comrades as a prodigy. candide, all stupefied, could not yet very well realise how he was a hero. he resolved one fine day in spring to go for a walk, marching straight before him, believing that it was a privilege of the human as well as of the animal species to make use of their legs as they pleased. he had advanced two leagues when he was overtaken by four others, heroes of six feet, who bound him and carried him to a dungeon. he was asked which he would like the best, to be whipped six-and-thirty times through all the regiment, or to receive at once twelve balls of lead in his brain. he vainly said that human will is free, and that he chose neither the one nor the other. he was forced to make a choice; he determined, in virtue of that gift of god called liberty, to run the gauntlet six-and-thirty times. he bore this twice. the regiment was composed of two thousand men; that composed for him four thousand strokes, which laid bare all his muscles and nerves, from the nape of his neck quite down to his rump. as they were going to proceed to a third whipping, candide, able to bear no more, begged as a favour that they would be so good as to shoot him. he obtained this favour; they bandaged his eyes, and bade him kneel down. the king of the bulgarians passed at this moment and ascertained the nature of the crime. as he had great talent, he understood from all that he learnt of candide that he was a young metaphysician, extremely ignorant of the things of this world, and he accorded him his pardon with a clemency which will bring him praise in all the journals, and throughout all ages. an able surgeon cured candide in three weeks by means of emollients taught by dioscorides. he had already a little skin, and was able to march when the king of the bulgarians gave battle to the king of the abares.[2] iii how candide made his escape from the bulgarians, and what afterwards became of him. there was never anything so gallant, so spruce, so brilliant, and so well disposed as the two armies. trumpets, fifes, hautboys, drums, and cannon made music such as hell itself had never heard. the cannons first of all laid flat about six thousand men on each side; the muskets swept away from this best of worlds nine or ten thousand ruffians who infested its surface. the bayonet was also a _sufficient reason_ for the death of several thousands. the whole might amount to thirty thousand souls. candide, who trembled like a philosopher, hid himself as well as he could during this heroic butchery. at length, while the two kings were causing te deum to be sung each in his own camp, candide resolved to go and reason elsewhere on effects and causes. he passed over heaps of dead and dying, and first reached a neighbouring village; it was in cinders, it was an abare village which the bulgarians had burnt according to the laws of war. here, old men covered with wounds, beheld their wives, hugging their children to their bloody breasts, massacred before their faces; there, their daughters, disembowelled and breathing their last after having satisfied the natural wants of bulgarian heroes; while others, half burnt in the flames, begged to be despatched. the earth was strewed with brains, arms, and legs. candide fled quickly to another village; it belonged to the bulgarians; and the abarian heroes had treated it in the same way. candide, walking always over palpitating limbs or across ruins, arrived at last beyond the seat of war, with a few provisions in his knapsack, and miss cunegonde always in his heart. his provisions failed him when he arrived in holland; but having heard that everybody was rich in that country, and that they were christians, he did not doubt but he should meet with the same treatment from them as he had met with in the baron's castle, before miss cunegonde's bright eyes were the cause of his expulsion thence. he asked alms of several grave-looking people, who all answered him, that if he continued to follow this trade they would confine him to the house of correction, where he should be taught to get a living. the next he addressed was a man who had been haranguing a large assembly for a whole hour on the subject of charity. but the orator, looking askew, said: "what are you doing here? are you for the good cause?" "there can be no effect without a cause," modestly answered candide; "the whole is necessarily concatenated and arranged for the best. it was necessary for me to have been banished from the presence of miss cunegonde, to have afterwards run the gauntlet, and now it is necessary i should beg my bread until i learn to earn it; all this cannot be otherwise." "my friend," said the orator to him, "do you believe the pope to be anti-christ?" "i have not heard it," answered candide; "but whether he be, or whether he be not, i want bread." "thou dost not deserve to eat," said the other. "begone, rogue; begone, wretch; do not come near me again." the orator's wife, putting her head out of the window, and spying a man that doubted whether the pope was anti-christ, poured over him a full.... oh, heavens! to what excess does religious zeal carry the ladies. a man who had never been christened, a good anabaptist, named james, beheld the cruel and ignominious treatment shown to one of his brethren, an unfeathered biped with a rational soul, he took him home, cleaned him, gave him bread and beer, presented him with two florins, and even wished to teach him the manufacture of persian stuffs which they make in holland. candide, almost prostrating himself before him, cried: "master pangloss has well said that all is for the best in this world, for i am infinitely more touched by your extreme generosity than with the inhumanity of that gentleman in the black coat and his lady." the next day, as he took a walk, he met a beggar all covered with scabs, his eyes diseased, the end of his nose eaten away, his mouth distorted, his teeth black, choking in his throat, tormented with a violent cough, and spitting out a tooth at each effort. iv how candide found his old master pangloss, and what happened to them. candide, yet more moved with compassion than with horror, gave to this shocking beggar the two florins which he had received from the honest anabaptist james. the spectre looked at him very earnestly, dropped a few tears, and fell upon his neck. candide recoiled in disgust. "alas!" said one wretch to the other, "do you no longer know your dear pangloss?" "what do i hear? you, my dear master! you in this terrible plight! what misfortune has happened to you? why are you no longer in the most magnificent of castles? what has become of miss cunegonde, the pearl of girls, and nature's masterpiece?" "i am so weak that i cannot stand," said pangloss. upon which candide carried him to the anabaptist's stable, and gave him a crust of bread. as soon as pangloss had refreshed himself a little: "well," said candide, "cunegonde?" "she is dead," replied the other. candide fainted at this word; his friend recalled his senses with a little bad vinegar which he found by chance in the stable. candide reopened his eyes. "cunegonde is dead! ah, best of worlds, where art thou? but of what illness did she die? was it not for grief, upon seeing her father kick me out of his magnificent castle?" "no," said pangloss, "she was ripped open by the bulgarian soldiers, after having been violated by many; they broke the baron's head for attempting to defend her; my lady, her mother, was cut in pieces; my poor pupil was served just in the same manner as his sister; and as for the castle, they have not left one stone upon another, not a barn, nor a sheep, nor a duck, nor a tree; but we have had our revenge, for the abares have done the very same thing to a neighbouring barony, which belonged to a bulgarian lord." at this discourse candide fainted again; but coming to himself, and having said all that it became him to say, inquired into the cause and effect, as well as into the _sufficient reason_ that had reduced pangloss to so miserable a plight. "alas!" said the other, "it was love; love, the comfort of the human species, the preserver of the universe, the soul of all sensible beings, love, tender love." "alas!" said candide, "i know this love, that sovereign of hearts, that soul of our souls; yet it never cost me more than a kiss and twenty kicks on the backside. how could this beautiful cause produce in you an effect so abominable?" pangloss made answer in these terms: "oh, my dear candide, you remember paquette, that pretty wench who waited on our noble baroness; in her arms i tasted the delights of paradise, which produced in me those hell torments with which you see me devoured; she was infected with them, she is perhaps dead of them. this present paquette received of a learned grey friar, who had traced it to its source; he had had it of an old countess, who had received it from a cavalry captain, who owed it to a marchioness, who took it from a page, who had received it from a jesuit, who when a novice had it in a direct line from one of the companions of christopher columbus.[3] for my part i shall give it to nobody, i am dying." "oh, pangloss!" cried candide, "what a strange genealogy! is not the devil the original stock of it?" "not at all," replied this great man, "it was a thing unavoidable, a necessary ingredient in the best of worlds; for if columbus had not in an island of america caught this disease, which contaminates the source of life, frequently even hinders generation, and which is evidently opposed to the great end of nature, we should have neither chocolate nor cochineal. we are also to observe that upon our continent, this distemper is like religious controversy, confined to a particular spot. the turks, the indians, the persians, the chinese, the siamese, the japanese, know nothing of it; but there is a sufficient reason for believing that they will know it in their turn in a few centuries. in the meantime, it has made marvellous progress among us, especially in those great armies composed of honest well-disciplined hirelings, who decide the destiny of states; for we may safely affirm that when an army of thirty thousand men fights another of an equal number, there are about twenty thousand of them p-x-d on each side." "well, this is wonderful!" said candide, "but you must get cured." "alas! how can i?" said pangloss, "i have not a farthing, my friend, and all over the globe there is no letting of blood or taking a glister, without paying, or somebody paying for you." these last words determined candide; he went and flung himself at the feet of the charitable anabaptist james, and gave him so touching a picture of the state to which his friend was reduced, that the good man did not scruple to take dr. pangloss into his house, and had him cured at his expense. in the cure pangloss lost only an eye and an ear. he wrote well, and knew arithmetic perfectly. the anabaptist james made him his bookkeeper. at the end of two months, being obliged to go to lisbon about some mercantile affairs, he took the two philosophers with him in his ship. pangloss explained to him how everything was so constituted that it could not be better. james was not of this opinion. "it is more likely," said he, "mankind have a little corrupted nature, for they were not born wolves, and they have become wolves; god has given them neither cannon of four-and-twenty pounders, nor bayonets; and yet they have made cannon and bayonets to destroy one another. into this account i might throw not only bankrupts, but justice which seizes on the effects of bankrupts to cheat the creditors." "all this was indispensable," replied the one-eyed doctor, "for private misfortunes make the general good, so that the more private misfortunes there are the greater is the general good." while he reasoned, the sky darkened, the winds blew from the four quarters, and the ship was assailed by a most terrible tempest within sight of the port of lisbon. v tempest, shipwreck, earthquake, and what became of doctor pangloss, candide, and james the anabaptist. half dead of that inconceivable anguish which the rolling of a ship produces, one-half of the passengers were not even sensible of the danger. the other half shrieked and prayed. the sheets were rent, the masts broken, the vessel gaped. work who would, no one heard, no one commanded. the anabaptist being upon deck bore a hand; when a brutish sailor struck him roughly and laid him sprawling; but with the violence of the blow he himself tumbled head foremost overboard, and stuck upon a piece of the broken mast. honest james ran to his assistance, hauled him up, and from the effort he made was precipitated into the sea in sight of the sailor, who left him to perish, without deigning to look at him. candide drew near and saw his benefactor, who rose above the water one moment and was then swallowed up for ever. he was just going to jump after him, but was prevented by the philosopher pangloss, who demonstrated to him that the bay of lisbon had been made on purpose for the anabaptist to be drowned. while he was proving this _à priori_, the ship foundered; all perished except pangloss, candide, and that brutal sailor who had drowned the good anabaptist. the villain swam safely to the shore, while pangloss and candide were borne thither upon a plank. as soon as they recovered themselves a little they walked toward lisbon. they had some money left, with which they hoped to save themselves from starving, after they had escaped drowning. scarcely had they reached the city, lamenting the death of their benefactor, when they felt the earth tremble under their feet. the sea swelled and foamed in the harbour, and beat to pieces the vessels riding at anchor. whirlwinds of fire and ashes covered the streets and public places; houses fell, roofs were flung upon the pavements, and the pavements were scattered. thirty thousand inhabitants of all ages and sexes were crushed under the ruins.[4] the sailor, whistling and swearing, said there was booty to be gained here. "what can be the _sufficient reason_ of this phenomenon?" said pangloss. "this is the last day!" cried candide. the sailor ran among the ruins, facing death to find money; finding it, he took it, got drunk, and having slept himself sober, purchased the favours of the first good-natured wench whom he met on the ruins of the destroyed houses, and in the midst of the dying and the dead. pangloss pulled him by the sleeve. "my friend," said he, "this is not right. you sin against the _universal reason_; you choose your time badly." "s'blood and fury!" answered the other; "i am a sailor and born at batavia. four times have i trampled upon the crucifix in four voyages to japan[5]; a fig for thy universal reason." some falling stones had wounded candide. he lay stretched in the street covered with rubbish. "alas!" said he to pangloss, "get me a little wine and oil; i am dying." "this concussion of the earth is no new thing," answered pangloss. "the city of lima, in america, experienced the same convulsions last year; the same cause, the same effects; there is certainly a train of sulphur under ground from lima to lisbon." "nothing more probable," said candide; "but for the love of god a little oil and wine." "how, probable?" replied the philosopher. "i maintain that the point is capable of being demonstrated." candide fainted away, and pangloss fetched him some water from a neighbouring fountain. the following day they rummaged among the ruins and found provisions, with which they repaired their exhausted strength. after this they joined with others in relieving those inhabitants who had escaped death. some, whom they had succoured, gave them as good a dinner as they could in such disastrous circumstances; true, the repast was mournful, and the company moistened their bread with tears; but pangloss consoled them, assuring them that things could not be otherwise. "for," said he, "all that is is for the best. if there is a volcano at lisbon it cannot be elsewhere. it is impossible that things should be other than they are; for everything is right." a little man dressed in black, familiar of the inquisition, who sat by him, politely took up his word and said: "apparently, then, sir, you do not believe in original sin; for if all is for the best there has then been neither fall nor punishment." "i humbly ask your excellency's pardon," answered pangloss, still more politely; "for the fall and curse of man necessarily entered into the system of the best of worlds." "sir," said the familiar, "you do not then believe in liberty?" "your excellency will excuse me," said pangloss; "liberty is consistent with absolute necessity, for it was necessary we should be free; for, in short, the determinate will----" pangloss was in the middle of his sentence, when the familiar beckoned to his footman, who gave him a glass of wine from porto or opporto. vi how the portuguese made a beautiful auto-da-fé, to prevent any further earthquakes; and how candide was publicly whipped. after the earthquake had destroyed three-fourths of lisbon, the sages of that country could think of no means more effectual to prevent utter ruin than to give the people a beautiful _auto-da-fé_[6]; for it had been decided by the university of coimbra, that the burning of a few people alive by a slow fire, and with great ceremony, is an infallible secret to hinder the earth from quaking. in consequence hereof, they had seized on a biscayner, convicted of having married his godmother, and on two portuguese, for rejecting the bacon which larded a chicken they were eating[7]; after dinner, they came and secured dr. pangloss, and his disciple candide, the one for speaking his mind, the other for having listened with an air of approbation. they were conducted to separate apartments, extremely cold, as they were never incommoded by the sun. eight days after they were dressed in _san-benitos_[8] and their heads ornamented with paper mitres. the mitre and _san-benito_ belonging to candide were painted with reversed flames and with devils that had neither tails nor claws; but pangloss's devils had claws and tails and the flames were upright. they marched in procession thus habited and heard a very pathetic sermon, followed by fine church music. candide was whipped in cadence while they were singing; the biscayner, and the two men who had refused to eat bacon, were burnt; and pangloss was hanged, though that was not the custom. the same day the earth sustained a most violent concussion. candide, terrified, amazed, desperate, all bloody, all palpitating, said to himself: "if this is the best of possible worlds, what then are the others? well, if i had been only whipped i could put up with it, for i experienced that among the bulgarians; but oh, my dear pangloss! thou greatest of philosophers, that i should have seen you hanged, without knowing for what! oh, my dear anabaptist, thou best of men, that thou should'st have been drowned in the very harbour! oh, miss cunegonde, thou pearl of girls! that thou should'st have had thy belly ripped open!" thus he was musing, scarce able to stand, preached at, whipped, absolved, and blessed, when an old woman accosted him saying: "my son, take courage and follow me." vii how the old woman took care of candide, and how he found the object he loved. candide did not take courage, but followed the old woman to a decayed house, where she gave him a pot of pomatum to anoint his sores, showed him a very neat little bed, with a suit of clothes hanging up, and left him something to eat and drink. "eat, drink, sleep," said she, "and may our lady of atocha,[9] the great st. anthony of padua, and the great st. james of compostella, receive you under their protection. i shall be back to-morrow." candide, amazed at all he had suffered and still more with the charity of the old woman, wished to kiss her hand. "it is not my hand you must kiss," said the old woman; "i shall be back to-morrow. anoint yourself with the pomatum, eat and sleep." candide, notwithstanding so many disasters, ate and slept. the next morning the old woman brought him his breakfast, looked at his back, and rubbed it herself with another ointment: in like manner she brought him his dinner; and at night she returned with his supper. the day following she went through the very same ceremonies. "who are you?" said candide; "who has inspired you with so much goodness? what return can i make you?" the good woman made no answer; she returned in the evening, but brought no supper. "come with me," she said, "and say nothing." she took him by the arm, and walked with him about a quarter of a mile into the country; they arrived at a lonely house, surrounded with gardens and canals. the old woman knocked at a little door, it opened, she led candide up a private staircase into a small apartment richly furnished. she left him on a brocaded sofa, shut the door and went away. candide thought himself in a dream; indeed, that he had been dreaming unluckily all his life, and that the present moment was the only agreeable part of it all. the old woman returned very soon, supporting with difficulty a trembling woman of a majestic figure, brilliant with jewels, and covered with a veil. "take off that veil," said the old woman to candide. the young man approaches, he raises the veil with a timid hand. oh! what a moment! what surprise! he believes he beholds miss cunegonde? he really sees her! it is herself! his strength fails him, he cannot utter a word, but drops at her feet. cunegonde falls upon the sofa. the old woman supplies a smelling bottle; they come to themselves and recover their speech. as they began with broken accents, with questions and answers interchangeably interrupted with sighs, with tears, and cries. the old woman desired they would make less noise and then she left them to themselves. "what, is it you?" said candide, "you live? i find you again in portugal? then you have not been ravished? then they did not rip open your belly as doctor pangloss informed me?" "yes, they did," said the beautiful cunegonde; "but those two accidents are not always mortal." "but were your father and mother killed?" "it is but too true," answered cunegonde, in tears. "and your brother?" "my brother also was killed." "and why are you in portugal? and how did you know of my being here? and by what strange adventure did you contrive to bring me to this house?" "i will tell you all that," replied the lady, "but first of all let me know your history, since the innocent kiss you gave me and the kicks which you received." candide respectfully obeyed her, and though he was still in a surprise, though his voice was feeble and trembling, though his back still pained him, yet he gave her a most ingenuous account of everything that had befallen him since the moment of their separation. cunegonde lifted up her eyes to heaven; shed tears upon hearing of the death of the good anabaptist and of pangloss; after which she spoke as follows to candide, who did not lose a word and devoured her with his eyes. viii the history of cunegonde. "i was in bed and fast asleep when it pleased god to send the bulgarians to our delightful castle of thunder-ten-tronckh; they slew my father and brother, and cut my mother in pieces. a tall bulgarian, six feet high, perceiving that i had fainted away at this sight, began to ravish me; this made me recover; i regained my senses, i cried, i struggled, i bit, i scratched, i wanted to tear out the tall bulgarian's eyes--not knowing that what happened at my father's house was the usual practice of war. the brute gave me a cut in the left side with his hanger, and the mark is still upon me." "ah! i hope i shall see it," said honest candide. "you shall," said cunegonde, "but let us continue." "do so," replied candide. thus she resumed the thread of her story: "a bulgarian captain came in, saw me all bleeding, and the soldier not in the least disconcerted. the captain flew into a passion at the disrespectful behaviour of the brute, and slew him on my body. he ordered my wounds to be dressed, and took me to his quarters as a prisoner of war. i washed the few shirts that he had, i did his cooking; he thought me very pretty--he avowed it; on the other hand, i must own he had a good shape, and a soft and white skin; but he had little or no mind or philosophy, and you might see plainly that he had never been instructed by doctor pangloss. in three months time, having lost all his money, and being grown tired of my company, he sold me to a jew, named don issachar, who traded to holland and portugal, and had a strong passion for women. this jew was much attached to my person, but could not triumph over it; i resisted him better than the bulgarian soldier. a modest woman may be ravished once, but her virtue is strengthened by it. in order to render me more tractable, he brought me to this country house. hitherto i had imagined that nothing could equal the beauty of thunder-ten-tronckh castle; but i found i was mistaken. "the grand inquisitor, seeing me one day at mass, stared long at me, and sent to tell me that he wished to speak on private matters. i was conducted to his palace, where i acquainted him with the history of my family, and he represented to me how much it was beneath my rank to belong to an israelite. a proposal was then made to don issachar that he should resign me to my lord. don issachar, being the court banker, and a man of credit, would hear nothing of it. the inquisitor threatened him with an _auto-da-fé_. at last my jew, intimidated, concluded a bargain, by which the house and myself should belong to both in common; the jew should have for himself monday, wednesday, and saturday, and the inquisitor should have the rest of the week. it is now six months since this agreement was made. quarrels have not been wanting, for they could not decide whether the night from saturday to sunday belonged to the old law or to the new. for my part, i have so far held out against both, and i verily believe that this is the reason why i am still beloved. "at length, to avert the scourge of earthquakes, and to intimidate don issachar, my lord inquisitor was pleased to celebrate an _auto-da-fé_. he did me the honour to invite me to the ceremony. i had a very good seat, and the ladies were served with refreshments between mass and the execution. i was in truth seized with horror at the burning of those two jews, and of the honest biscayner who had married his godmother; but what was my surprise, my fright, my trouble, when i saw in a _san-benito_ and mitre a figure which resembled that of pangloss! i rubbed my eyes, i looked at him attentively, i saw him hung; i fainted. scarcely had i recovered my senses than i saw you stripped, stark naked, and this was the height of my horror, consternation, grief, and despair. i tell you, truthfully, that your skin is yet whiter and of a more perfect colour than that of my bulgarian captain. this spectacle redoubled all the feelings which overwhelmed and devoured me. i screamed out, and would have said, 'stop, barbarians!' but my voice failed me, and my cries would have been useless after you had been severely whipped. how is it possible, said i, that the beloved candide and the wise pangloss should both be at lisbon, the one to receive a hundred lashes, and the other to be hanged by the grand inquisitor, of whom i am the well-beloved? pangloss most cruelly deceived me when he said that everything in the world is for the best. "agitated, lost, sometimes beside myself, and sometimes ready to die of weakness, my mind was filled with the massacre of my father, mother, and brother, with the insolence of the ugly bulgarian soldier, with the stab that he gave me, with my servitude under the bulgarian captain, with my hideous don issachar, with my abominable inquisitor, with the execution of doctor pangloss, with the grand miserere to which they whipped you, and especially with the kiss i gave you behind the screen the day that i had last seen you. i praised god for bringing you back to me after so many trials, and i charged my old woman to take care of you, and to conduct you hither as soon as possible. she has executed her commission perfectly well; i have tasted the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you again, of hearing you, of speaking with you. but you must be hungry, for myself, i am famished; let us have supper." they both sat down to table, and, when supper was over, they placed themselves once more on the sofa; where they were when signor don issachar arrived. it was the jewish sabbath, and issachar had come to enjoy his rights, and to explain his tender love. ix what became of cunegonde, candide, the grand inquisitor, and the jew. this issachar was the most choleric hebrew that had ever been seen in israel since the captivity in babylon. "what!" said he, "thou bitch of a galilean, was not the inquisitor enough for thee? must this rascal also share with me?" in saying this he drew a long poniard which he always carried about him; and not imagining that his adversary had any arms he threw himself upon candide: but our honest westphalian had received a handsome sword from the old woman along with the suit of clothes. he drew his rapier, despite his gentleness, and laid the israelite stone dead upon the cushions at cunegonde's feet. "holy virgin!" cried she, "what will become of us? a man killed in my apartment! if the officers of justice come, we are lost!" "had not pangloss been hanged," said candide, "he would give us good counsel in this emergency, for he was a profound philosopher. failing him let us consult the old woman." she was very prudent and commenced to give her opinion when suddenly another little door opened. it was an hour after midnight, it was the beginning of sunday. this day belonged to my lord the inquisitor. he entered, and saw the whipped candide, sword in hand, a dead man upon the floor, cunegonde aghast, and the old woman giving counsel. at this moment, the following is what passed in the soul of candide, and how he reasoned: if this holy man call in assistance, he will surely have me burnt; and cunegonde will perhaps be served in the same manner; he was the cause of my being cruelly whipped; he is my rival; and, as i have now begun to kill, i will kill away, for there is no time to hesitate. this reasoning was clear and instantaneous; so that without giving time to the inquisitor to recover from his surprise, he pierced him through and through, and cast him beside the jew. "yet again!" said cunegonde, "now there is no mercy for us, we are excommunicated, our last hour has come. how could you do it? you, naturally so gentle, to slay a jew and a prelate in two minutes!" "my beautiful young lady," responded candide, "when one is a lover, jealous and whipped by the inquisition, one stops at nothing." the old woman then put in her word, saying: "there are three andalusian horses in the stable with bridles and saddles, let the brave candide get them ready; madame has money, jewels; let us therefore mount quickly on horseback, though i can sit only on one buttock; let us set out for cadiz, it is the finest weather in the world, and there is great pleasure in travelling in the cool of the night." immediately candide saddled the three horses, and cunegonde, the old woman and he, travelled thirty miles at a stretch. while they were journeying, the holy brotherhood entered the house; my lord the inquisitor was interred in a handsome church, and issachar's body was thrown upon a dunghill. candide, cunegonde, and the old woman, had now reached the little town of avacena in the midst of the mountains of the sierra morena, and were speaking as follows in a public inn. x in what distress candide, cunegonde, and the old woman arrived at cadiz; and of their embarkation. "who was it that robbed me of my money and jewels?" said cunegonde, all bathed in tears. "how shall we live? what shall we do? where find inquisitors or jews who will give me more?" "alas!" said the old woman, "i have a shrewd suspicion of a reverend grey friar, who stayed last night in the same inn with us at badajos. god preserve me from judging rashly, but he came into our room twice, and he set out upon his journey long before us." "alas!" said candide, "dear pangloss has often demonstrated to me that the goods of this world are common to all men, and that each has an equal right to them. but according to these principles the grey friar ought to have left us enough to carry us through our journey. have you nothing at all left, my dear cunegonde?" "not a farthing," said she. "what then must we do?" said candide. "sell one of the horses," replied the old woman. "i will ride behind miss cunegonde, though i can hold myself only on one buttock, and we shall reach cadiz." in the same inn there was a benedictine prior who bought the horse for a cheap price. candide, cunegonde, and the old woman, having passed through lucena, chillas, and lebrixa, arrived at length at cadiz. a fleet was there getting ready, and troops assembling to bring to reason the reverend jesuit fathers of paraguay, accused of having made one of the native tribes in the neighborhood of san sacrament revolt against the kings of spain and portugal. candide having been in the bulgarian service, performed the military exercise before the general of this little army with so graceful an address, with so intrepid an air, and with such agility and expedition, that he was given the command of a company of foot. now, he was a captain! he set sail with miss cunegonde, the old woman, two valets, and the two andalusian horses, which had belonged to the grand inquisitor of portugal. during their voyage they reasoned a good deal on the philosophy of poor pangloss. "we are going into another world," said candide; "and surely it must be there that all is for the best. for i must confess there is reason to complain a little of what passeth in our world in regard to both natural and moral philosophy." "i love you with all my heart," said cunegonde; "but my soul is still full of fright at that which i have seen and experienced." "all will be well," replied candide; "the sea of this new world is already better than our european sea; it is calmer, the winds more regular. it is certainly the new world which is the best of all possible worlds." "god grant it," said cunegonde; "but i have been so horribly unhappy there that my heart is almost closed to hope." "you complain," said the old woman; "alas! you have not known such misfortunes as mine." cunegonde almost broke out laughing, finding the good woman very amusing, for pretending to have been as unfortunate as she. "alas!" said cunegonde, "my good mother, unless you have been ravished by two bulgarians, have received two deep wounds in your belly, have had two castles demolished, have had two mothers cut to pieces before your eyes, and two of your lovers whipped at an _auto-da-fé_, i do not conceive how you could be more unfortunate than i. add that i was born a baroness of seventy-two quarterings--and have been a cook!" "miss," replied the old woman, "you do not know my birth; and were i to show you my backside, you would not talk in that manner, but would suspend your judgment." this speech having raised extreme curiosity in the minds of cunegonde and candide, the old woman spoke to them as follows. xi history of the old woman. "i had not always bleared eyes and red eyelids; neither did my nose always touch my chin; nor was i always a servant. i am the daughter of pope urban x,[10] and of the princess of palestrina. until the age of fourteen i was brought up in a palace, to which all the castles of your german barons would scarcely have served for stables; and one of my robes was worth more than all the magnificence of westphalia. as i grew up i improved in beauty, wit, and every graceful accomplishment, in the midst of pleasures, hopes, and respectful homage. already i inspired love. my throat was formed, and such a throat! white, firm, and shaped like that of the venus of medici; and what eyes! what eyelids! what black eyebrows! such flames darted from my dark pupils that they eclipsed the scintillation of the stars--as i was told by the poets in our part of the world. my waiting women, when dressing and undressing me, used to fall into an ecstasy, whether they viewed me before or behind; how glad would the gentlemen have been to perform that office for them! "i was affianced to the most excellent prince of massa carara. such a prince! as handsome as myself, sweet-tempered, agreeable, brilliantly witty, and sparkling with love. i loved him as one loves for the first time--with idolatry, with transport. the nuptials were prepared. there was surprising pomp and magnificence; there were _fêtes_, carousals, continual _opera bouffe_; and all italy composed sonnets in my praise, though not one of them was passable. i was just upon the point of reaching the summit of bliss, when an old marchioness who had been mistress to the prince, my husband, invited him to drink chocolate with her. he died in less than two hours of most terrible convulsions. but this is only a bagatelle. my mother, in despair, and scarcely less afflicted than myself, determined to absent herself for some time from so fatal a place. she had a very fine estate in the neighbourhood of gaeta. we embarked on board a galley of the country which was gilded like the great altar of st. peter's at rome. a sallee corsair swooped down and boarded us. our men defended themselves like the pope's soldiers; they flung themselves upon their knees, and threw down their arms, begging of the corsair an absolution _in articulo mortis_. "instantly they were stripped as bare as monkeys; my mother, our maids of honour, and myself were all served in the same manner. it is amazing with what expedition those gentry undress people. but what surprised me most was, that they thrust their fingers into the part of our bodies which the generality of women suffer no other instrument but--pipes to enter. it appeared to me a very strange kind of ceremony; but thus one judges of things when one has not seen the world. i afterwards learnt that it was to try whether we had concealed any diamonds. this is the practice established from time immemorial, among civilised nations that scour the seas. i was informed that the very religious knights of malta never fail to make this search when they take any turkish prisoners of either sex. it is a law of nations from which they never deviate. "i need not tell _you_ how great a hardship it was for a young princess and her mother to be made slaves and carried to morocco. you may easily imagine all we had to suffer on board the pirate vessel. my mother was still very handsome; our maids of honour, and even our waiting women, had more charms than are to be found in all africa. as for myself, i was ravishing, was exquisite, grace itself, and i was a virgin! i did not remain so long; this flower, which had been reserved for the handsome prince of massa carara, was plucked by the corsair captain. he was an abominable negro, and yet believed that he did me a great deal of honour. certainly the princess of palestrina and myself must have been very strong to go through all that we experienced until our arrival at morocco. but let us pass on; these are such common things as not to be worth mentioning. "morocco swam in blood when we arrived. fifty sons of the emperor muley-ismael[11] had each their adherents; this produced fifty civil wars, of blacks against blacks, and blacks against tawnies, and tawnies against tawnies, and mulattoes against mulattoes. in short it was a continual carnage throughout the empire. "no sooner were we landed, than the blacks of a contrary faction to that of my captain attempted to rob him of his booty. next to jewels and gold we were the most valuable things he had. i was witness to such a battle as you have never seen in your european climates. the northern nations have not that heat in their blood, nor that raging lust for women, so common in africa. it seems that you europeans have only milk in your veins; but it is vitriol, it is fire which runs in those of the inhabitants of mount atlas and the neighbouring countries. they fought with the fury of the lions, tigers, and serpents of the country, to see who should have us. a moor seized my mother by the right arm, while my captain's lieutenant held her by the left; a moorish soldier had hold of her by one leg, and one of our corsairs held her by the other. thus almost all our women were drawn in quarters by four men. my captain concealed me behind him; and with his drawn scimitar cut and slashed every one that opposed his fury. at length i saw all our italian women, and my mother herself, torn, mangled, massacred, by the monsters who disputed over them. the slaves, my companions, those who had taken them, soldiers, sailors, blacks, whites, mulattoes, and at last my captain, all were killed, and i remained dying on a heap of dead. such scenes as this were transacted through an extent of three hundred leagues--and yet they never missed the five prayers a day ordained by mahomet. "with difficulty i disengaged myself from such a heap of slaughtered bodies, and crawled to a large orange tree on the bank of a neighbouring rivulet, where i fell, oppressed with fright, fatigue, horror, despair, and hunger. immediately after, my senses, overpowered, gave themselves up to sleep, which was yet more swooning than repose. i was in this state of weakness and insensibility, between life and death, when i felt myself pressed by something that moved upon my body. i opened my eyes, and saw a white man, of good countenance, who sighed, and who said between his teeth: '_o che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni!_'"[12] xii the adventures of the old woman continued. "astonished and delighted to hear my native language, and no less surprised at what this man said, i made answer that there were much greater misfortunes than that of which he complained. i told him in a few words of the horrors which i had endured, and fainted a second time. he carried me to a neighbouring house, put me to bed, gave me food, waited upon me, consoled me, flattered me; he told me that he had never seen any one so beautiful as i, and that he never so much regretted the loss of what it was impossible to recover. "'i was born at naples,' said he, 'there they geld two or three thousand children every year; some die of the operation, others acquire a voice more beautiful than that of women, and others are raised to offices of state.[13] this operation was performed on me with great success and i was chapel musician to madam, the princess of palestrina.' "'to my mother!' cried i. "'your mother!' cried he, weeping. 'what! can you be that young princess whom i brought up until the age of six years, and who promised so early to be as beautiful as you?' "'it is i, indeed; but my mother lies four hundred yards hence, torn in quarters, under a heap of dead bodies.' "i told him all my adventures, and he made me acquainted with his; telling me that he had been sent to the emperor of morocco by a christian power, to conclude a treaty with that prince, in consequence of which he was to be furnished with military stores and ships to help to demolish the commerce of other christian governments. "'my mission is done,' said this honest eunuch; 'i go to embark for ceuta, and will take you to italy. _ma che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni!_' "i thanked him with tears of commiseration; and instead of taking me to italy he conducted me to algiers, where he sold me to the dey. scarcely was i sold, than the plague which had made the tour of africa, asia, and europe, broke out with great malignancy in algiers. you have seen earthquakes; but pray, miss, have you ever had the plague?" "never," answered cunegonde. "if you had," said the old woman, "you would acknowledge that it is far more terrible than an earthquake. it is common in africa, and i caught it. imagine to yourself the distressed situation of the daughter of a pope, only fifteen years old, who, in less than three months, had felt the miseries of poverty and slavery, had been ravished almost every day, had beheld her mother drawn in quarters, had experienced famine and war, and was dying of the plague in algiers. i did not die, however, but my eunuch, and the dey, and almost the whole seraglio of algiers perished. "as soon as the first fury of this terrible pestilence was over, a sale was made of the dey's slaves; i was purchased by a merchant, and carried to tunis; this man sold me to another merchant, who sold me again to another at tripoli; from tripoli i was sold to alexandria, from alexandria to smyrna, and from smyrna to constantinople. at length i became the property of an aga of the janissaries, who was soon ordered away to the defence of azof, then besieged by the russians. "the aga, who was a very gallant man, took his whole seraglio with him, and lodged us in a small fort on the palus méotides, guarded by two black eunuchs and twenty soldiers. the turks killed prodigious numbers of the russians, but the latter had their revenge. azof was destroyed by fire, the inhabitants put to the sword, neither sex nor age was spared; until there remained only our little fort, and the enemy wanted to starve us out. the twenty janissaries had sworn they would never surrender. the extremities of famine to which they were reduced, obliged them to eat our two eunuchs, for fear of violating their oath. and at the end of a few days they resolved also to devour the women. "we had a very pious and humane iman, who preached an excellent sermon, exhorting them not to kill us all at once. "'only cut off a buttock of each of those ladies,' said he, 'and you'll fare extremely well; if you must go to it again, there will be the same entertainment a few days hence; heaven will accept of so charitable an action, and send you relief.' "he had great eloquence; he persuaded them; we underwent this terrible operation. the iman applied the same balsam to us, as he does to children after circumcision; and we all nearly died. "scarcely had the janissaries finished the repast with which we had furnished them, than the russians came in flat-bottomed boats; not a janissary escaped. the russians paid no attention to the condition we were in. there are french surgeons in all parts of the world; one of them who was very clever took us under his care--he cured us; and as long as i live i shall remember that as soon as my wounds were healed he made proposals to me. he bid us all be of good cheer, telling us that the like had happened in many sieges, and that it was according to the laws of war. "as soon as my companions could walk, they were obliged to set out for moscow. i fell to the share of a boyard who made me his gardener, and gave me twenty lashes a day. but this nobleman having in two years' time been broke upon the wheel along with thirty more boyards for some broils at court, i profited by that event; i fled. i traversed all russia; i was a long time an inn-holder's servant at riga, the same at rostock, at vismar, at leipzig, at cassel, at utrecht, at leyden, at the hague, at rotterdam. i waxed old in misery and disgrace, having only one-half of my posteriors, and always remembering i was a pope's daughter. a hundred times i was upon the point of killing myself; but still i loved life. this ridiculous foible is perhaps one of our most fatal characteristics; for is there anything more absurd than to wish to carry continually a burden which one can always throw down? to detest existence and yet to cling to one's existence? in brief, to caress the serpent which devours us, till he has eaten our very heart? "in the different countries which it has been my lot to traverse, and the numerous inns where i have been servant, i have taken notice of a vast number of people who held their own existence in abhorrence, and yet i never knew of more than eight who voluntarily put an end to their misery; three negroes, four englishmen, and a german professor named robek.[14] i ended by being servant to the jew, don issachar, who placed me near your presence, my fair lady. i am determined to share your fate, and have been much more affected with your misfortunes than with my own. i would never even have spoken to you of my misfortunes, had you not piqued me a little, and if it were not customary to tell stories on board a ship in order to pass away the time. in short, miss cunegonde, i have had experience, i know the world; therefore i advise you to divert yourself, and prevail upon each passenger to tell his story; and if there be one of them all, that has not cursed his life many a time, that has not frequently looked upon himself as the unhappiest of mortals, i give you leave to throw me headforemost into the sea." xiii how candide was forced away from his fair cunegonde and the old woman. the beautiful cunegonde having heard the old woman's history, paid her all the civilities due to a person of her rank and merit. she likewise accepted her proposal, and engaged all the passengers, one after the other, to relate their adventures; and then both she and candide allowed that the old woman was in the right. "it is a great pity," said candide, "that the sage pangloss was hanged contrary to custom at an _auto-da-fé_; he would tell us most amazing things in regard to the physical and moral evils that overspread earth and sea, and i should be able, with due respect, to make a few objections." while each passenger was recounting his story, the ship made her way. they landed at buenos ayres. cunegonde, captain candide, and the old woman, waited on the governor, don fernando d'ibaraa, y figueora, y mascarenes, y lampourdos, y souza. this nobleman had a stateliness becoming a person who bore so many names. he spoke to men with so noble a disdain, carried his nose so loftily, raised his voice so unmercifully, assumed so imperious an air, and stalked with such intolerable pride, that those who saluted him were strongly inclined to give him a good drubbing. cunegonde appeared to him the most beautiful he had ever met. the first thing he did was to ask whether she was not the captain's wife. the manner in which he asked the question alarmed candide; he durst not say she was his wife, because indeed she was not; neither durst he say she was his sister, because it was not so; and although this obliging lie had been formerly much in favour among the ancients, and although it could be useful to the moderns, his soul was too pure to betray the truth. "miss cunegonde," said he, "is to do me the honour to marry me, and we beseech your excellency to deign to sanction our marriage." don fernando d'ibaraa, y figueora, y mascarenes, y lampourdos, y souza, turning up his moustachios, smiled mockingly, and ordered captain candide to go and review his company. candide obeyed, and the governor remained alone with miss cunegonde. he declared his passion, protesting he would marry her the next day in the face of the church, or otherwise, just as should be agreeable to herself. cunegonde asked a quarter of an hour to consider of it, to consult the old woman, and to take her resolution. the old woman spoke thus to cunegonde: "miss, you have seventy-two quarterings, and not a farthing; it is now in your power to be wife to the greatest lord in south america, who has very beautiful moustachios. is it for you to pique yourself upon inviolable fidelity? you have been ravished by bulgarians; a jew and an inquisitor have enjoyed your favours. misfortune gives sufficient excuse. i own, that if i were in your place, i should have no scruple in marrying the governor and in making the fortune of captain candide." while the old woman spoke with all the prudence which age and experience gave, a small ship entered the port on board of which were an alcalde and his alguazils, and this was what had happened. as the old woman had shrewdly guessed, it was a grey friar who stole cunegonde's money and jewels in the town of badajos, when she and candide were escaping. the friar wanted to sell some of the diamonds to a jeweller; the jeweller knew them to be the grand inquisitor's. the friar before he was hanged confessed he had stolen them. he described the persons, and the route they had taken. the flight of cunegonde and candide was already known. they were traced to cadiz. a vessel was immediately sent in pursuit of them. the vessel was already in the port of buenos ayres. the report spread that the alcalde was going to land, and that he was in pursuit of the murderers of my lord the grand inquisitor. the prudent old woman saw at once what was to be done. "you cannot run away," said she to cunegonde, "and you have nothing to fear, for it was not you that killed my lord; besides the governor who loves you will not suffer you to be ill-treated; therefore stay." she then ran immediately to candide. "fly," said she, "or in an hour you will be burnt." there was not a moment to lose; but how could he part from cunegonde, and where could he flee for shelter? xiv how candide and cacambo were received by the jesuits of paraguay. candide had brought such a valet with him from cadiz, as one often meets with on the coasts of spain and in the american colonies. he was a quarter spaniard, born of a mongrel in tucuman; he had been singing-boy, sacristan, sailor, monk, pedlar, soldier, and lackey. his name was cacambo, and he loved his master, because his master was a very good man. he quickly saddled the two andalusian horses. "come, master, let us follow the old woman's advice; let us start, and run without looking behind us." candide shed tears. "oh! my dear cunegonde! must i leave you just at a time when the governor was going to sanction our nuptials? cunegonde, brought to such a distance what will become of you?" "she will do as well as she can," said cacambo; "the women are never at a loss, god provides for them, let us run." "whither art thou carrying me? where shall we go? what shall we do without cunegonde?" said candide. "by st. james of compostella," said cacambo, "you were going to fight against the jesuits; let us go to fight for them; i know the road well, i'll conduct you to their kingdom, where they will be charmed to have a captain that understands the bulgarian exercise. you'll make a prodigious fortune; if we cannot find our account in one world we shall in another. it is a great pleasure to see and do new things." "you have before been in paraguay, then?" said candide. "ay, sure," answered cacambo, "i was servant in the college of the assumption, and am acquainted with the government of the good fathers as well as i am with the streets of cadiz. it is an admirable government. the kingdom is upwards of three hundred leagues in diameter, and divided into thirty provinces; there the fathers possess all, and the people nothing; it is a masterpiece of reason and justice. for my part i see nothing so divine as the fathers who here make war upon the kings of spain and portugal, and in europe confess those kings; who here kill spaniards, and in madrid send them to heaven; this delights me, let us push forward. you are going to be the happiest of mortals. what pleasure will it be to those fathers to hear that a captain who knows the bulgarian exercise has come to them!" as soon as they reached the first barrier, cacambo told the advanced guard that a captain wanted to speak with my lord the commandant. notice was given to the main guard, and immediately a paraguayan officer ran and laid himself at the feet of the commandant, to impart this news to him. candide and cacambo were disarmed, and their two andalusian horses seized. the strangers were introduced between two files of musketeers; the commandant was at the further end, with the three-cornered cap on his head, his gown tucked up, a sword by his side, and a spontoon[15] in his hand. he beckoned, and straightway the new-comers were encompassed by four-and-twenty soldiers. a sergeant told them they must wait, that the commandant could not speak to them, and that the reverend father provincial does not suffer any spaniard to open his mouth but in his presence, or to stay above three hours in the province. "and where is the reverend father provincial?" said cacambo. "he is upon the parade just after celebrating mass," answered the sergeant, "and you cannot kiss his spurs till three hours hence." "however," said cacambo, "the captain is not a spaniard, but a german, he is ready to perish with hunger as well as myself; cannot we have something for breakfast, while we wait for his reverence?" the sergeant went immediately to acquaint the commandant with what he had heard. "god be praised!" said the reverend commandant, "since he is a german, i may speak to him; take him to my arbour." candide was at once conducted to a beautiful summer-house, ornamented with a very pretty colonnade of green and gold marble, and with trellises, enclosing parraquets, humming-birds, fly-birds, guinea-hens, and all other rare birds. an excellent breakfast was provided in vessels of gold; and while the paraguayans were eating maize out of wooden dishes, in the open fields and exposed to the heat of the sun, the reverend father commandant retired to his arbour. he was a very handsome young man, with a full face, white skin but high in colour; he had an arched eyebrow, a lively eye, red ears, vermilion lips, a bold air, but such a boldness as neither belonged to a spaniard nor a jesuit. they returned their arms to candide and cacambo, and also the two andalusian horses; to whom cacambo gave some oats to eat just by the arbour, having an eye upon them all the while for fear of a surprise. candide first kissed the hem of the commandant's robe, then they sat down to table. "you are, then, a german?" said the jesuit to him in that language. "yes, reverend father," answered candide. as they pronounced these words they looked at each other with great amazement, and with such an emotion as they could not conceal. "and from what part of germany do you come?" said the jesuit. "i am from the dirty province of westphalia," answered candide; "i was born in the castle of thunder-ten-tronckh." "oh! heavens! is it possible?" cried the commandant. "what a miracle!" cried candide. "is it really you?" said the commandant. "it is not possible!" said candide. they drew back; they embraced; they shed rivulets of tears. "what, is it you, reverend father? you, the brother of the fair cunegonde! you, that was slain by the bulgarians! you, the baron's son! you, a jesuit in paraguay! i must confess this is a strange world that we live in. oh, pangloss! pangloss! how glad you would be if you had not been hanged!" the commandant sent away the negro slaves and the paraguayans, who served them with liquors in goblets of rock-crystal. he thanked god and st. ignatius a thousand times; he clasped candide in his arms; and their faces were all bathed with tears. "you will be more surprised, more affected, and transported," said candide, "when i tell you that cunegonde, your sister, whom you believe to have been ripped open, is in perfect health." "where?" "in your neighbourhood, with the governor of buenos ayres; and i was going to fight against you." every word which they uttered in this long conversation but added wonder to wonder. their souls fluttered on their tongues, listened in their ears, and sparkled in their eyes. as they were germans, they sat a good while at table, waiting for the reverend father provincial, and the commandant spoke to his dear candide as follows. xv how candide killed the brother of his dear cunegonde. "i shall have ever present to my memory the dreadful day, on which i saw my father and mother killed, and my sister ravished. when the bulgarians retired, my dear sister could not be found; but my mother, my father, and myself, with two maid-servants and three little boys all of whom had been slain, were put in a hearse, to be conveyed for interment to a chapel belonging to the jesuits, within two leagues of our family seat. a jesuit sprinkled us with some holy water; it was horribly salt; a few drops of it fell into my eyes; the father perceived that my eyelids stirred a little; he put his hand upon my heart and felt it beat. i received assistance, and at the end of three weeks i recovered. you know, my dear candide, i was very pretty; but i grew much prettier, and the reverend father didrie,[16] superior of that house, conceived the tenderest friendship for me; he gave me the habit of the order, some years after i was sent to rome. the father-general needed new levies of young german-jesuits. the sovereigns of paraguay admit as few spanish jesuits as possible; they prefer those of other nations as being more subordinate to their commands. i was judged fit by the reverend father-general to go and work in this vineyard. we set out--a pole, a tyrolese, and myself. upon my arrival i was honoured with a sub-deaconship and a lieutenancy. i am to-day colonel and priest. we shall give a warm reception to the king of spain's troops; i will answer for it that they shall be excommunicated and well beaten. providence sends you here to assist us. but is it, indeed, true that my dear sister cunegonde is in the neighbourhood, with the governor of buenos ayres?" candide assured him on oath that nothing was more true, and their tears began afresh. the baron could not refrain from embracing candide; he called him his brother, his saviour. "ah! perhaps," said he, "we shall together, my dear candide, enter the town as conquerors, and recover my sister cunegonde." "that is all i want," said candide, "for i intended to marry her, and i still hope to do so." "you insolent!" replied the baron, "would you have the impudence to marry my sister who has seventy-two quarterings! i find thou hast the most consummate effrontery to dare to mention so presumptuous a design!" candide, petrified at this speech, made answer: "reverend father, all the quarterings in the world signify nothing; i rescued your sister from the arms of a jew and of an inquisitor; she has great obligations to me, she wishes to marry me; master pangloss always told me that all men are equal, and certainly i will marry her." "we shall see that, thou scoundrel!" said the jesuit baron de thunder-ten-tronckh, and that instant struck him across the face with the flat of his sword. candide in an instant drew his rapier, and plunged it up to the hilt in the jesuit's belly; but in pulling it out reeking hot, he burst into tears. "good god!" said he, "i have killed my old master, my friend, my brother-in-law! i am the best-natured creature in the world, and yet i have already killed three men, and of these three two were priests." cacambo, who stood sentry by the door of the arbour, ran to him. "we have nothing more for it than to sell our lives as dearly as we can," said his master to him, "without doubt some one will soon enter the arbour, and we must die sword in hand." cacambo, who had been in a great many scrapes in his lifetime, did not lose his head; he took the baron's jesuit habit, put it on candide, gave him the square cap, and made him mount on horseback. all this was done in the twinkling of an eye. "let us gallop fast, master, everybody will take you for a jesuit, going to give directions to your men, and we shall have passed the frontiers before they will be able to overtake us." he flew as he spoke these words, crying out aloud in spanish: "make way, make way, for the reverend father colonel." xvi adventures of the two travellers, with two girls, two monkeys, and the savages called oreillons. candide and his valet had got beyond the barrier, before it was known in the camp that the german jesuit was dead. the wary cacambo had taken care to fill his wallet with bread, chocolate, bacon, fruit, and a few bottles of wine. with their andalusian horses they penetrated into an unknown country, where they perceived no beaten track. at length they came to a beautiful meadow intersected with purling rills. here our two adventurers fed their horses. cacambo proposed to his master to take some food, and he set him an example. "how can you ask me to eat ham," said candide, "after killing the baron's son, and being doomed never more to see the beautiful cunegonde? what will it avail me to spin out my wretched days and drag them far from her in remorse and despair? and what will the _journal of trevoux_[17] say?" while he was thus lamenting his fate, he went on eating. the sun went down. the two wanderers heard some little cries which seemed to be uttered by women. they did not know whether they were cries of pain or joy; but they started up precipitately with that inquietude and alarm which every little thing inspires in an unknown country. the noise was made by two naked girls, who tripped along the mead, while two monkeys were pursuing them and biting their buttocks. candide was moved with pity; he had learned to fire a gun in the bulgarian service, and he was so clever at it, that he could hit a filbert in a hedge without touching a leaf of the tree. he took up his double-barrelled spanish fusil, let it off, and killed the two monkeys. "god be praised! my dear cacambo, i have rescued those two poor creatures from a most perilous situation. if i have committed a sin in killing an inquisitor and a jesuit, i have made ample amends by saving the lives of these girls. perhaps they are young ladies of family; and this adventure may procure us great advantages in this country." he was continuing, but stopped short when he saw the two girls tenderly embracing the monkeys, bathing their bodies in tears, and rending the air with the most dismal lamentations. "little did i expect to see such good-nature," said he at length to cacambo; who made answer: "master, you have done a fine thing now; you have slain the sweethearts of those two young ladies." "the sweethearts! is it possible? you are jesting, cacambo, i can never believe it!" "dear master," replied cacambo; "you are surprised at everything. why should you think it so strange that in some countries there are monkeys which insinuate themselves into the good graces of the ladies; they are a fourth part human, as i am a fourth part spaniard." "alas!" replied candide, "i remember to have heard master pangloss say, that formerly such accidents used to happen; that these mixtures were productive of centaurs, fauns, and satyrs; and that many of the ancients had seen such monsters, but i looked upon the whole as fabulous." "you ought now to be convinced," said cacambo, "that it is the truth, and you see what use is made of those creatures, by persons that have not had a proper education; all i fear is that those ladies will play us some ugly trick." these sound reflections induced candide to leave the meadow and to plunge into a wood. he supped there with cacambo; and after cursing the portuguese inquisitor, the governor of buenos ayres, and the baron, they fell asleep on moss. on awaking they felt that they could not move; for during the night the oreillons, who inhabited that country, and to whom the ladies had denounced them, had bound them with cords made of the bark of trees. they were encompassed by fifty naked oreillons, armed with bows and arrows, with clubs and flint hatchets. some were making a large cauldron boil, others were preparing spits, and all cried: "a jesuit! a jesuit! we shall be revenged, we shall have excellent cheer, let us eat the jesuit, let us eat him up!" "i told you, my dear master," cried cacambo sadly, "that those two girls would play us some ugly trick." candide seeing the cauldron and the spits, cried: "we are certainly going to be either roasted or boiled. ah! what would master pangloss say, were he to see how pure nature is formed? everything is right, may be, but i declare it is very hard to have lost miss cunegonde and to be put upon a spit by oreillons." cacambo never lost his head. "do not despair," said he to the disconsolate candide, "i understand a little of the jargon of these people, i will speak to them." "be sure," said candide, "to represent to them how frightfully inhuman it is to cook men, and how very un-christian." "gentlemen," said cacambo, "you reckon you are to-day going to feast upon a jesuit. it is all very well, nothing is more unjust than thus to treat your enemies. indeed, the law of nature teaches us to kill our neighbour, and such is the practice all over the world. if we do not accustom ourselves to eating them, it is because we have better fare. but you have not the same resources as we; certainly it is much better to devour your enemies than to resign to the crows and rooks the fruits of your victory. but, gentlemen, surely you would not choose to eat your friends. you believe that you are going to spit a jesuit, and he is your defender. it is the enemy of your enemies that you are going to roast. as for myself, i was born in your country; this gentleman is my master, and, far from being a jesuit, he has just killed one, whose spoils he wears; and thence comes your mistake. to convince you of the truth of what i say, take his habit and carry it to the first barrier of the jesuit kingdom, and inform yourselves whether my master did not kill a jesuit officer. it will not take you long, and you can always eat us if you find that i have lied to you. but i have told you the truth. you are too well acquainted with the principles of public law, humanity, and justice not to pardon us." the oreillons found this speech very reasonable. they deputed two of their principal people with all expedition to inquire into the truth of the matter; these executed their commission like men of sense, and soon returned with good news. the oreillons untied their prisoners, showed them all sorts of civilities, offered them girls, gave them refreshment, and reconducted them to the confines of their territories, proclaiming with great joy: "he is no jesuit! he is no jesuit!" candide could not help being surprised at the cause of his deliverance. "what people!" said he; "what men! what manners! if i had not been so lucky as to run miss cunegonde's brother through the body, i should have been devoured without redemption. but, after all, pure nature is good, since these people, instead of feasting upon my flesh, have shown me a thousand civilities, when then i was not a jesuit." xvii arrival of candide and his valet at el dorado, and what they saw there. "you see," said cacambo to candide, as soon as they had reached the frontiers of the oreillons, "that this hemisphere is not better than the others, take my word for it; let us go back to europe by the shortest way." "how go back?" said candide, "and where shall we go? to my own country? the bulgarians and the abares are slaying all; to portugal? there i shall be burnt; and if we abide here we are every moment in danger of being spitted. but how can i resolve to quit a part of the world where my dear cunegonde resides?" "let us turn towards cayenne," said cacambo, "there we shall find frenchmen, who wander all over the world; they may assist us; god will perhaps have pity on us." it was not easy to get to cayenne; they knew vaguely in which direction to go, but rivers, precipices, robbers, savages, obstructed them all the way. their horses died of fatigue. their provisions were consumed; they fed a whole month upon wild fruits, and found themselves at last near a little river bordered with cocoa trees, which sustained their lives and their hopes. cacambo, who was as good a counsellor as the old woman, said to candide: "we are able to hold out no longer; we have walked enough. i see an empty canoe near the river-side; let us fill it with cocoanuts, throw ourselves into it, and go with the current; a river always leads to some inhabited spot. if we do not find pleasant things we shall at least find new things." "with all my heart," said candide, "let us recommend ourselves to providence." they rowed a few leagues, between banks, in some places flowery, in others barren; in some parts smooth, in others rugged. the stream ever widened, and at length lost itself under an arch of frightful rocks which reached to the sky. the two travellers had the courage to commit themselves to the current. the river, suddenly contracting at this place, whirled them along with a dreadful noise and rapidity. at the end of four-and-twenty hours they saw daylight again, but their canoe was dashed to pieces against the rocks. for a league they had to creep from rock to rock, until at length they discovered an extensive plain, bounded by inaccessible mountains. the country was cultivated as much for pleasure as for necessity. on all sides the useful was also the beautiful. the roads were covered, or rather adorned, with carriages of a glittering form and substance, in which were men and women of surprising beauty, drawn by large red sheep which surpassed in fleetness the finest coursers of andalusia, tetuan, and mequinez.[18] "here, however, is a country," said candide, "which is better than westphalia." he stepped out with cacambo towards the first village which he saw. some children dressed in tattered brocades played at quoits on the outskirts. our travellers from the other world amused themselves by looking on. the quoits were large round pieces, yellow, red, and green, which cast a singular lustre! the travellers picked a few of them off the ground; this was of gold, that of emeralds, the other of rubies--the least of them would have been the greatest ornament on the mogul's throne. "without doubt," said cacambo, "these children must be the king's sons that are playing at quoits!" the village schoolmaster appeared at this moment and called them to school. "there," said candide, "is the preceptor of the royal family." the little truants immediately quitted their game, leaving the quoits on the ground with all their other playthings. candide gathered them up, ran to the master, and presented them to him in a most humble manner, giving him to understand by signs that their royal highnesses had forgotten their gold and jewels. the schoolmaster, smiling, flung them upon the ground; then, looking at candide with a good deal of surprise, went about his business. the travellers, however, took care to gather up the gold, the rubies, and the emeralds. "where are we?" cried candide. "the king's children in this country must be well brought up, since they are taught to despise gold and precious stones." cacambo was as much surprised as candide. at length they drew near the first house in the village. it was built like an european palace. a crowd of people pressed about the door, and there were still more in the house. they heard most agreeable music, and were aware of a delicious odour of cooking. cacambo went up to the door and heard they were talking peruvian; it was his mother tongue, for it is well known that cacambo was born in tucuman, in a village where no other language was spoken. "i will be your interpreter here," said he to candide; "let us go in, it is a public-house." immediately two waiters and two girls, dressed in cloth of gold, and their hair tied up with ribbons, invited them to sit down to table with the landlord. they served four dishes of soup, each garnished with two young parrots; a boiled condor[19] which weighed two hundred pounds; two roasted monkeys, of excellent flavour; three hundred humming-birds in one dish, and six hundred fly-birds in another; exquisite ragouts; delicious pastries; the whole served up in dishes of a kind of rock-crystal. the waiters and girls poured out several liqueurs drawn from the sugar-cane. most of the company were chapmen and waggoners, all extremely polite; they asked cacambo a few questions with the greatest circumspection, and answered his in the most obliging manner. as soon as dinner was over, cacambo believed as well as candide that they might well pay their reckoning by laying down two of those large gold pieces which they had picked up. the landlord and landlady shouted with laughter and held their sides. when the fit was over: "gentlemen," said the landlord, "it is plain you are strangers, and such guests we are not accustomed to see; pardon us therefore for laughing when you offered us the pebbles from our highroads in payment of your reckoning. you doubtless have not the money of the country; but it is not necessary to have any money at all to dine in this house. all hostelries established for the convenience of commerce are paid by the government. you have fared but very indifferently because this is a poor village; but everywhere else, you will be received as you deserve." cacambo explained this whole discourse with great astonishment to candide, who was as greatly astonished to hear it. "what sort of a country then is this," said they to one another; "a country unknown to all the rest of the world, and where nature is of a kind so different from ours? it is probably the country where all is well; for there absolutely must be one such place. and, whatever master pangloss might say, i often found that things went very ill in westphalia." xviii what they saw in the country of el dorado. cacambo expressed his curiosity to the landlord, who made answer: "i am very ignorant, but not the worse on that account. however, we have in this neighbourhood an old man retired from court who is the most learned and most communicative person in the kingdom." at once he took cacambo to the old man. candide acted now only a second character, and accompanied his valet. they entered a very plain house, for the door was only of silver, and the ceilings were only of gold, but wrought in so elegant a taste as to vie with the richest. the antechamber, indeed, was only encrusted with rubies and emeralds, but the order in which everything was arranged made amends for this great simplicity. the old man received the strangers on his sofa, which was stuffed with humming-birds' feathers, and ordered his servants to present them with liqueurs in diamond goblets; after which he satisfied their curiosity in the following terms: "i am now one hundred and seventy-two years old, and i learnt of my late father, master of the horse to the king, the amazing revolutions of peru, of which he had been an eyewitness. the kingdom we now inhabit is the ancient country of the incas, who quitted it very imprudently to conquer another part of the world, and were at length destroyed by the spaniards. "more wise by far were the princes of their family, who remained in their native country; and they ordained, with the consent of the whole nation, that none of the inhabitants should ever be permitted to quit this little kingdom; and this has preserved our innocence and happiness. the spaniards have had a confused notion of this country, and have called it _el dorado_; and an englishman, whose name was sir walter raleigh, came very near it about a hundred years ago; but being surrounded by inaccessible rocks and precipices, we have hitherto been sheltered from the rapaciousness of european nations, who have an inconceivable passion for the pebbles and dirt of our land, for the sake of which they would murder us to the last man." the conversation was long: it turned chiefly on their form of government, their manners, their women, their public entertainments, and the arts. at length candide, having always had a taste for metaphysics, made cacambo ask whether there was any religion in that country. the old man reddened a little. "how then," said he, "can you doubt it? do you take us for ungrateful wretches?" cacambo humbly asked, "what was the religion in el dorado?" the old man reddened again. "can there be two religions?" said he. "we have, i believe, the religion of all the world: we worship god night and morning." "do you worship but one god?" said cacambo, who still acted as interpreter in representing candide's doubts. "surely," said the old man, "there are not two, nor three, nor four. i must confess the people from your side of the world ask very extraordinary questions." candide was not yet tired of interrogating the good old man; he wanted to know in what manner they prayed to god in el dorado. "we do not pray to him," said the worthy sage; "we have nothing to ask of him; he has given us all we need, and we return him thanks without ceasing." candide having a curiosity to see the priests asked where they were. the good old man smiled. "my friend," said he, "we are all priests. the king and all the heads of families sing solemn canticles of thanksgiving every morning, accompanied by five or six thousand musicians." "what! have you no monks who teach, who dispute, who govern, who cabal, and who burn people that are not of their opinion?" "we must be mad, indeed, if that were the case," said the old man; "here we are all of one opinion, and we know not what you mean by monks." during this whole discourse candide was in raptures, and he said to himself: "this is vastly different from westphalia and the baron's castle. had our friend pangloss seen el dorado he would no longer have said that the castle of thunder-ten-tronckh was the finest upon earth. it is evident that one must travel." after this long conversation the old man ordered a coach and six sheep to be got ready, and twelve of his domestics to conduct the travellers to court. "excuse me," said he, "if my age deprives me of the honour of accompanying you. the king will receive you in a manner that cannot displease you; and no doubt you will make an allowance for the customs of the country, if some things should not be to your liking." candide and cacambo got into the coach, the six sheep flew, and in less than four hours they reached the king's palace situated at the extremity of the capital. the portal was two hundred and twenty feet high, and one hundred wide; but words are wanting to express the materials of which it was built. it is plain such materials must have prodigious superiority over those pebbles and sand which we call gold and precious stones. twenty beautiful damsels of the king's guard received candide and cacambo as they alighted from the coach, conducted them to the bath, and dressed them in robes woven of the down of humming-birds; after which the great crown officers, of both sexes, led them to the king's apartment, between two files of musicians, a thousand on each side. when they drew near to the audience chamber cacambo asked one of the great officers in what way he should pay his obeisance to his majesty; whether they should throw themselves upon their knees or on their stomachs; whether they should put their hands upon their heads or behind their backs; whether they should lick the dust off the floor; in a word, what was the ceremony? "the custom," said the great officer, "is to embrace the king, and to kiss him on each cheek." candide and cacambo threw themselves round his majesty's neck. he received them with all the goodness imaginable, and politely invited them to supper. while waiting they were shown the city, and saw the public edifices raised as high as the clouds, the market places ornamented with a thousand columns, the fountains of spring water, those of rose water, those of liqueurs drawn from sugar-cane, incessantly flowing into the great squares, which were paved with a kind of precious stone, which gave off a delicious fragrancy like that of cloves and cinnamon. candide asked to see the court of justice, the parliament. they told him they had none, and that they were strangers to lawsuits. he asked if they had any prisons, and they answered no. but what surprised him most and gave him the greatest pleasure was the palace of sciences, where he saw a gallery two thousand feet long, and filled with instruments employed in mathematics and physics. after rambling about the city the whole afternoon, and seeing but a thousandth part of it, they were reconducted to the royal palace, where candide sat down to table with his majesty, his valet cacambo, and several ladies. never was there a better entertainment, and never was more wit shown at a table than that which fell from his majesty. cacambo explained the king's _bon-mots_ to candide, and notwithstanding they were translated they still appeared to be _bon-mots_. of all the things that surprised candide this was not the least. they spent a month in this hospitable place. candide frequently said to cacambo: "i own, my friend, once more that the castle where i was born is nothing in comparison with this; but, after all, miss cunegonde is not here, and you have, without doubt, some mistress in europe. if we abide here we shall only be upon a footing with the rest, whereas, if we return to our old world, only with twelve sheep laden with the pebbles of el dorado, we shall be richer than all the kings in europe. we shall have no more inquisitors to fear, and we may easily recover miss cunegonde." this speech was agreeable to cacambo; mankind are so fond of roving, of making a figure in their own country, and of boasting of what they have seen in their travels, that the two happy ones resolved to be no longer so, but to ask his majesty's leave to quit the country. "you are foolish," said the king. "i am sensible that my kingdom is but a small place, but when a person is comfortably settled in any part he should abide there. i have not the right to detain strangers. it is a tyranny which neither our manners nor our laws permit. all men are free. go when you wish, but the going will be very difficult. it is impossible to ascend that rapid river on which you came as by a miracle, and which runs under vaulted rocks. the mountains which surround my kingdom are ten thousand feet high, and as steep as walls; they are each over ten leagues in breadth, and there is no other way to descend them than by precipices. however, since you absolutely wish to depart, i shall give orders to my engineers to construct a machine that will convey you very safely. when we have conducted you over the mountains no one can accompany you further, for my subjects have made a vow never to quit the kingdom, and they are too wise to break it. ask me besides anything that you please." "we desire nothing of your majesty," says candide, "but a few sheep laden with provisions, pebbles, and the earth of this country." the king laughed. "i cannot conceive," said he, "what pleasure you europeans find in our yellow clay, but take as much as you like, and great good may it do you." at once he gave directions that his engineers should construct a machine to hoist up these two extraordinary men out of the kingdom. three thousand good mathematicians went to work; it was ready in fifteen days, and did not cost more than twenty million sterling in the specie of that country. they placed candide and cacambo on the machine. there were two great red sheep saddled and bridled to ride upon as soon as they were beyond the mountains, twenty pack-sheep laden with provisions, thirty with presents of the curiosities of the country, and fifty with gold, diamonds, and precious stones. the king embraced the two wanderers very tenderly. their departure, with the ingenious manner in which they and their sheep were hoisted over the mountains, was a splendid spectacle. the mathematicians took their leave after conveying them to a place of safety, and candide had no other desire, no other aim, than to present his sheep to miss cunegonde. "now," said he, "we are able to pay the governor of buenos ayres if miss cunegonde can be ransomed. let us journey towards cayenne. let us embark, and we will afterwards see what kingdom we shall be able to purchase." xix what happened to them at surinam and how candide got acquainted with martin. our travellers spent the first day very agreeably. they were delighted with possessing more treasure than all asia, europe, and africa could scrape together. candide, in his raptures, cut cunegonde's name on the trees. the second day two of their sheep plunged into a morass, where they and their burdens were lost; two more died of fatigue a few days after; seven or eight perished with hunger in a desert; and others subsequently fell down precipices. at length, after travelling a hundred days, only two sheep remained. said candide to cacambo: "my friend, you see how perishable are the riches of this world; there is nothing solid but virtue, and the happiness of seeing cunegonde once more." "i grant all you say," said cacambo, "but we have still two sheep remaining, with more treasure than the king of spain will ever have; and i see a town which i take to be surinam, belonging to the dutch. we are at the end of all our troubles, and at the beginning of happiness." as they drew near the town, they saw a negro stretched upon the ground, with only one moiety of his clothes, that is, of his blue linen drawers; the poor man had lost his left leg and his right hand. "good god!" said candide in dutch, "what art thou doing there, friend, in that shocking condition?" "i am waiting for my master, mynheer vanderdendur, the famous merchant," answered the negro. "was it mynheer vanderdendur," said candide, "that treated thee thus?" "yes, sir," said the negro, "it is the custom. they give us a pair of linen drawers for our whole garment twice a year. when we work at the sugar-canes, and the mill snatches hold of a finger, they cut off the hand; and when we attempt to run away, they cut off the leg; both cases have happened to me. this is the price at which you eat sugar in europe. yet when my mother sold me for ten patagons[20] on the coast of guinea, she said to me: 'my dear child, bless our fetiches, adore them for ever; they will make thee live happily; thou hast the honour of being the slave of our lords, the whites, which is making the fortune of thy father and mother.' alas! i know not whether i have made their fortunes; this i know, that they have not made mine. dogs, monkeys, and parrots are a thousand times less wretched than i. the dutch fetiches, who have converted me, declare every sunday that we are all of us children of adam--blacks as well as whites. i am not a genealogist, but if these preachers tell truth, we are all second cousins. now, you must agree, that it is impossible to treat one's relations in a more barbarous manner." "oh, pangloss!" cried candide, "thou hadst not guessed at this abomination; it is the end. i must at last renounce thy optimism." "what is this optimism?" said cacambo. "alas!" said candide, "it is the madness of maintaining that everything is right when it is wrong." looking at the negro, he shed tears, and weeping, he entered surinam. the first thing they inquired after was whether there was a vessel in the harbour which could be sent to buenos ayres. the person to whom they applied was a spanish sea-captain, who offered to agree with them upon reasonable terms. he appointed to meet them at a public-house, whither candide and the faithful cacambo went with their two sheep, and awaited his coming. candide, who had his heart upon his lips, told the spaniard all his adventures, and avowed that he intended to elope with miss cunegonde. "then i will take good care not to carry you to buenos ayres," said the seaman. "i should be hanged, and so would you. the fair cunegonde is my lord's favourite mistress." this was a thunderclap for candide: he wept for a long while. at last he drew cacambo aside. "here, my dear friend," said he to him, "this thou must do. we have, each of us in his pocket, five or six millions in diamonds; you are more clever than i; you must go and bring miss cunegonde from buenos ayres. if the governor makes any difficulty, give him a million; if he will not relinquish her, give him two; as you have not killed an inquisitor, they will have no suspicion of you; i'll get another ship, and go and wait for you at venice; that's a free country, where there is no danger either from bulgarians, abares, jews, or inquisitors." cacambo applauded this wise resolution. he despaired at parting from so good a master, who had become his intimate friend; but the pleasure of serving him prevailed over the pain of leaving him. they embraced with tears; candide charged him not to forget the good old woman. cacambo set out that very same day. this cacambo was a very honest fellow. candide stayed some time longer in surinam, waiting for another captain to carry him and the two remaining sheep to italy. after he had hired domestics, and purchased everything necessary for a long voyage, mynheer vanderdendur, captain of a large vessel, came and offered his services. "how much will you charge," said he to this man, "to carry me straight to venice--me, my servants, my baggage, and these two sheep?" the skipper asked ten thousand piastres. candide did not hesitate. "oh! oh!" said the prudent vanderdendur to himself, "this stranger gives ten thousand piastres unhesitatingly! he must be very rich." returning a little while after, he let him know that upon second consideration, he could not undertake the voyage for less than twenty thousand piastres. "well, you shall have them," said candide. "ay!" said the skipper to himself, "this man agrees to pay twenty thousand piastres with as much ease as ten." he went back to him again, and declared that he could not carry him to venice for less than thirty thousand piastres. "then you shall have thirty thousand," replied candide. "oh! oh!" said the dutch skipper once more to himself, "thirty thousand piastres are a trifle to this man; surely these sheep must be laden with an immense treasure; let us say no more about it. first of all, let him pay down the thirty thousand piastres; then we shall see." candide sold two small diamonds, the least of which was worth more than what the skipper asked for his freight. he paid him in advance. the two sheep were put on board. candide followed in a little boat to join the vessel in the roads. the skipper seized his opportunity, set sail, and put out to sea, the wind favouring him. candide, dismayed and stupefied, soon lost sight of the vessel. "alas!" said he, "this is a trick worthy of the old world!" he put back, overwhelmed with sorrow, for indeed he had lost sufficient to make the fortune of twenty monarchs. he waited upon the dutch magistrate, and in his distress he knocked over loudly at the door. he entered and told his adventure, raising his voice with unnecessary vehemence. the magistrate began by fining him ten thousand piastres for making a noise; then he listened patiently, promised to examine into his affair at the skipper's return, and ordered him to pay ten thousand piastres for the expense of the hearing. this drove candide to despair; he had, indeed, endured misfortunes a thousand times worse; the coolness of the magistrate and of the skipper who had robbed him, roused his choler and flung him into a deep melancholy. the villainy of mankind presented itself before his imagination in all its deformity, and his mind was filled with gloomy ideas. at length hearing that a french vessel was ready to set sail for bordeaux, as he had no sheep laden with diamonds to take along with him he hired a cabin at the usual price. he made it known in the town that he would pay the passage and board and give two thousand piastres to any honest man who would make the voyage with him, upon condition that this man was the most dissatisfied with his state, and the most unfortunate in the whole province. such a crowd of candidates presented themselves that a fleet of ships could hardly have held them. candide being desirous of selecting from among the best, marked out about one-twentieth of them who seemed to be sociable men, and who all pretended to merit his preference. he assembled them at his inn, and gave them a supper on condition that each took an oath to relate his history faithfully, promising to choose him who appeared to be most justly discontented with his state, and to bestow some presents upon the rest. they sat until four o'clock in the morning. candide, in listening to all their adventures, was reminded of what the old woman had said to him in their voyage to buenos ayres, and of her wager that there was not a person on board the ship but had met with very great misfortunes. he dreamed of pangloss at every adventure told to him. "this pangloss," said he, "would be puzzled to demonstrate his system. i wish that he were here. certainly, if all things are good, it is in el dorado and not in the rest of the world." at length he made choice of a poor man of letters, who had worked ten years for the booksellers of amsterdam. he judged that there was not in the whole world a trade which could disgust one more. this philosopher was an honest man; but he had been robbed by his wife, beaten by his son, and abandoned by his daughter who got a portuguese to run away with her. he had just been deprived of a small employment, on which he subsisted; and he was persecuted by the preachers of surinam, who took him for a socinian. we must allow that the others were at least as wretched as he; but candide hoped that the philosopher would entertain him during the voyage. all the other candidates complained that candide had done them great injustice; but he appeased them by giving one hundred piastres to each. xx what happened at sea to candide and martin. the old philosopher, whose name was martin, embarked then with candide for bordeaux. they had both seen and suffered a great deal; and if the vessel had sailed from surinam to japan, by the cape of good hope, the subject of moral and natural evil would have enabled them to entertain one another during the whole voyage. candide, however, had one great advantage over martin, in that he always hoped to see miss cunegonde; whereas martin had nothing at all to hope. besides, candide was possessed of money and jewels, and though he had lost one hundred large red sheep, laden with the greatest treasure upon earth; though the knavery of the dutch skipper still sat heavy upon his mind; yet when he reflected upon what he had still left, and when he mentioned the name of cunegonde, especially towards the latter end of a repast, he inclined to pangloss's doctrine. "but you, mr. martin," said he to the philosopher, "what do you think of all this? what are your ideas on moral and natural evil?" "sir," answered martin, "our priests accused me of being a socinian, but the real fact is i am a manichean."[21] "you jest," said candide; "there are no longer manicheans in the world." "i am one," said martin. "i cannot help it; i know not how to think otherwise." "surely you must be possessed by the devil," said candide. "he is so deeply concerned in the affairs of this world," answered martin, "that he may very well be in me, as well as in everybody else; but i own to you that when i cast an eye on this globe, or rather on this little ball, i cannot help thinking that god has abandoned it to some malignant being. i except, always, el dorado. i scarcely ever knew a city that did not desire the destruction of a neighbouring city, nor a family that did not wish to exterminate some other family. everywhere the weak execrate the powerful, before whom they cringe; and the powerful beat them like sheep whose wool and flesh they sell. a million regimented assassins, from one extremity of europe to the other, get their bread by disciplined depredation and murder, for want of more honest employment. even in those cities which seem to enjoy peace, and where the arts flourish, the inhabitants are devoured by more envy, care, and uneasiness than are experienced by a besieged town. secret griefs are more cruel than public calamities. in a word i have seen so much, and experienced so much that i am a manichean." "there are, however, some things good," said candide. "that may be," said martin; "but i know them not." in the middle of this dispute they heard the report of cannon; it redoubled every instant. each took out his glass. they saw two ships in close fight about three miles off. the wind brought both so near to the french vessel that our travellers had the pleasure of seeing the fight at their ease. at length one let off a broadside, so low and so truly aimed, that the other sank to the bottom. candide and martin could plainly perceive a hundred men on the deck of the sinking vessel; they raised their hands to heaven and uttered terrible outcries, and the next moment were swallowed up by the sea. "well," said martin, "this is how men treat one another." "it is true," said candide; "there is something diabolical in this affair." while speaking, he saw he knew not what, of a shining red, swimming close to the vessel. they put out the long-boat to see what it could be: it was one of his sheep! candide was more rejoiced at the recovery of this one sheep than he had been grieved at the loss of the hundred laden with the large diamonds of el dorado. the french captain soon saw that the captain of the victorious vessel was a spaniard, and that the other was a dutch pirate, and the very same one who had robbed candide. the immense plunder which this villain had amassed, was buried with him in the sea, and out of the whole only one sheep was saved. "you see," said candide to martin, "that crime is sometimes punished. this rogue of a dutch skipper has met with the fate he deserved." "yes," said martin; "but why should the passengers be doomed also to destruction? god has punished the knave, and the devil has drowned the rest." the french and spanish ships continued their course, and candide continued his conversation with martin. they disputed fifteen successive days, and on the last of those fifteen days, they were as far advanced as on the first. but, however, they chatted, they communicated ideas, they consoled each other. candide caressed his sheep. "since i have found thee again," said he, "i may likewise chance to find my cunegonde." xxi candide and martin, reasoning, draw near the coast of france. at length they descried the coast of france. "were you ever in france, mr. martin?" said candide. "yes," said martin, "i have been in several provinces. in some one-half of the people are fools, in others they are too cunning; in some they are weak and simple, in others they affect to be witty; in all, the principal occupation is love, the next is slander, and the third is talking nonsense." "but, mr. martin, have you seen paris?" "yes, i have. all these kinds are found there. it is a chaos--a confused multitude, where everybody seeks pleasure and scarcely any one finds it, at least as it appeared to me. i made a short stay there. on my arrival i was robbed of all i had by pickpockets at the fair of st. germain. i myself was taken for a robber and was imprisoned for eight days, after which i served as corrector of the press to gain the money necessary for my return to holland on foot. i knew the whole scribbling rabble, the party rabble, the fanatic rabble. it is said that there are very polite people in that city, and i wish to believe it." "for my part, i have no curiosity to see france," said candide. "you may easily imagine that after spending a month at el dorado i can desire to behold nothing upon earth but miss cunegonde. i go to await her at venice. we shall pass through france on our way to italy. will you bear me company?" "with all my heart," said martin. "it is said that venice is fit only for its own nobility, but that strangers meet with a very good reception if they have a good deal of money. i have none of it; you have, therefore i will follow you all over the world." "but do you believe," said candide, "that the earth was originally a sea, as we find it asserted in that large book belonging to the captain?" "i do not believe a word of it," said martin, "any more than i do of the many ravings which have been published lately." "but for what end, then, has this world been formed?" said candide. "to plague us to death," answered martin. "are you not greatly surprised," continued candide, "at the love which these two girls of the oreillons had for those monkeys, of which i have already told you?" "not at all," said martin. "i do not see that that passion was strange. i have seen so many extraordinary things that i have ceased to be surprised." "do you believe," said candide, "that men have always massacred each other as they do to-day, that they have always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, idiots, thieves, scoundrels, gluttons, drunkards, misers, envious, ambitious, bloody-minded, calumniators, debauchees, fanatics, hypocrites, and fools?" "do you believe," said martin, "that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they have found them?" "yes, without doubt," said candide. "well, then," said martin, "if hawks have always had the same character why should you imagine that men may have changed theirs?" "oh!" said candide, "there is a vast deal of difference, for free will----" and reasoning thus they arrived at bordeaux. xxii what happened in france to candide and martin. candide stayed in bordeaux no longer than was necessary for the selling of a few of the pebbles of el dorado, and for hiring a good chaise to hold two passengers; for he could not travel without his philosopher martin. he was only vexed at parting with his sheep, which he left to the bordeaux academy of sciences, who set as a subject for that year's prize, "to find why this sheep's wool was red;" and the prize was awarded to a learned man of the north, who demonstrated by a plus b minus c divided by z, that the sheep must be red, and die of the rot. meanwhile, all the travellers whom candide met in the inns along his route, said to him, "we go to paris." this general eagerness at length gave him, too, a desire to see this capital; and it was not so very great a _détour_ from the road to venice. he entered paris by the suburb of st. marceau, and fancied that he was in the dirtiest village of westphalia. scarcely was candide arrived at his inn, than he found himself attacked by a slight illness, caused by fatigue. as he had a very large diamond on his finger, and the people of the inn had taken notice of a prodigiously heavy box among his baggage, there were two physicians to attend him, though he had never sent for them, and two devotees who warmed his broths. "i remember," martin said, "also to have been sick at paris in my first voyage; i was very poor, thus i had neither friends, devotees, nor doctors, and i recovered." however, what with physic and bleeding, candide's illness became serious. a parson of the neighborhood came with great meekness to ask for a bill for the other world payable to the bearer. candide would do nothing for him; but the devotees assured him it was the new fashion. he answered that he was not a man of fashion. martin wished to throw the priest out of the window. the priest swore that they would not bury candide. martin swore that he would bury the priest if he continued to be troublesome. the quarrel grew heated. martin took him by the shoulders and roughly turned him out of doors; which occasioned great scandal and a law-suit. candide got well again, and during his convalescence he had very good company to sup with him. they played high. candide wondered why it was that the ace never came to him; but martin was not at all astonished. among those who did him the honours of the town was a little abbé of perigord, one of those busybodies who are ever alert, officious, forward, fawning, and complaisant; who watch for strangers in their passage through the capital, tell them the scandalous history of the town, and offer them pleasure at all prices. he first took candide and martin to la comédie, where they played a new tragedy. candide happened to be seated near some of the fashionable wits. this did not prevent his shedding tears at the well-acted scenes. one of these critics at his side said to him between the acts: "your tears are misplaced; that is a shocking actress; the actor who plays with her is yet worse; and the play is still worse than the actors. the author does not know a word of arabic, yet the scene is in arabia; moreover he is a man that does not believe in innate ideas; and i will bring you, to-morrow, twenty pamphlets written against him."[22] "how many dramas have you in france, sir?" said candide to the abbé. "five or six thousand." "what a number!" said candide. "how many good?" "fifteen or sixteen," replied the other. "what a number!" said martin. candide was very pleased with an actress who played queen elizabeth in a somewhat insipid tragedy[23] sometimes acted. "that actress," said he to martin, "pleases me much; she has a likeness to miss cunegonde; i should be very glad to wait upon her." the perigordian abbé offered to introduce him. candide, brought up in germany, asked what was the etiquette, and how they treated queens of england in france. "it is necessary to make distinctions," said the abbé. "in the provinces one takes them to the inn; in paris, one respects them when they are beautiful, and throws them on the highway when they are dead."[24] "queens on the highway!" said candide. "yes, truly," said martin, "the abbé is right. i was in paris when miss monime passed, as the saying is, from this life to the other. she was refused what people call the _honours of sepulture_--that is to say, of rotting with all the beggars of the neighbourhood in an ugly cemetery; she was interred all alone by her company at the corner of the rue de bourgogne, which ought to trouble her much, for she thought nobly." "that was very uncivil," said candide. "what would you have?" said martin; "these people are made thus. imagine all contradictions, all possible incompatibilities--you will find them in the government, in the law-courts, in the churches, in the public shows of this droll nation." "is it true that they always laugh in paris?" said candide. "yes," said the abbé, "but it means nothing, for they complain of everything with great fits of laughter; they even do the most detestable things while laughing." "who," said candide, "is that great pig who spoke so ill of the piece at which i wept, and of the actors who gave me so much pleasure?" "he is a bad character," answered the abbé, "who gains his livelihood by saying evil of all plays and of all books. he hates whatever succeeds, as the eunuchs hate those who enjoy; he is one of the serpents of literature who nourish themselves on dirt and spite; he is a _folliculaire_." "what is a _folliculaire_?" said candide. "it is," said the abbé, "a pamphleteer--a fréron."[25] thus candide, martin, and the perigordian conversed on the staircase, while watching every one go out after the performance. "although i am eager to see cunegonde again," said candide, "i should like to sup with miss clairon, for she appears to me admirable." the abbé was not the man to approach miss clairon, who saw only good company. "she is engaged for this evening," he said, "but i shall have the honour to take you to the house of a lady of quality, and there you will know paris as if you had lived in it for years." candide, who was naturally curious, let himself be taken to this lady's house, at the end of the faubourg st. honoré. the company was occupied in playing faro; a dozen melancholy punters held each in his hand a little pack of cards; a bad record of his misfortunes. profound silence reigned; pallor was on the faces of the punters, anxiety on that of the banker, and the hostess, sitting near the unpitying banker, noticed with lynx-eyes all the doubled and other increased stakes, as each player dog's-eared his cards; she made them turn down the edges again with severe, but polite attention; she showed no vexation for fear of losing her customers. the lady insisted upon being called the marchioness of parolignac. her daughter, aged fifteen, was among the punters, and notified with a covert glance the cheatings of the poor people who tried to repair the cruelties of fate. the perigordian abbé, candide and martin entered; no one rose, no one saluted them, no one looked at them; all were profoundly occupied with their cards. "the baroness of thunder-ten-tronckh was more polite," said candide. however, the abbé whispered to the marchioness, who half rose, honoured candide with a gracious smile, and martin with a condescending nod; she gave a seat and a pack of cards to candide, who lost fifty thousand francs in two deals, after which they supped very gaily, and every one was astonished that candide was not moved by his loss; the servants said among themselves, in the language of servants:-"some english lord is here this evening." the supper passed at first like most parisian suppers, in silence, followed by a noise of words which could not be distinguished, then with pleasantries of which most were insipid, with false news, with bad reasoning, a little politics, and much evil speaking; they also discussed new books. "have you seen," said the perigordian abbé, "the romance of sieur gauchat, doctor of divinity?"[26] "yes," answered one of the guests, "but i have not been able to finish it. we have a crowd of silly writings, but all together do not approach the impertinence of 'gauchat, doctor of divinity.' i am so satiated with the great number of detestable books with which we are inundated that i am reduced to punting at faro." "and the _mélanges_ of archdeacon trublet,[27] what do you say of that?" said the abbé. "ah!" said the marchioness of parolignac, "the wearisome mortal! how curiously he repeats to you all that the world knows! how heavily he discusses that which is not worth the trouble of lightly remarking upon! how, without wit, he appropriates the wit of others! how he spoils what he steals! how he disgusts me! but he will disgust me no longer--it is enough to have read a few of the archdeacon's pages." there was at table a wise man of taste, who supported the marchioness. they spoke afterwards of tragedies; the lady asked why there were tragedies which were sometimes played and which could not be read. the man of taste explained very well how a piece could have some interest, and have almost no merit; he proved in few words that it was not enough to introduce one or two of those situations which one finds in all romances, and which always seduce the spectator, but that it was necessary to be new without being odd, often sublime and always natural, to know the human heart and to make it speak; to be a great poet without allowing any person in the piece to appear to be a poet; to know language perfectly--to speak it with purity, with continuous harmony and without rhythm ever taking anything from sense. "whoever," added he, "does not observe all these rules can produce one or two tragedies, applauded at a theatre, but he will never be counted in the ranks of good writers. there are very few good tragedies; some are idylls in dialogue, well written and well rhymed, others political reasonings which lull to sleep, or amplifications which repel; others demoniac dreams in barbarous style, interrupted in sequence, with long apostrophes to the gods, because they do not know how to speak to men, with false maxims, with bombastic commonplaces!" candide listened with attention to this discourse, and conceived a great idea of the speaker, and as the marchioness had taken care to place him beside her, he leaned towards her and took the liberty of asking who was the man who had spoken so well. "he is a scholar," said the lady, "who does not play, whom the abbé sometimes brings to supper; he is perfectly at home among tragedies and books, and he has written a tragedy which was hissed, and a book of which nothing has ever been seen outside his bookseller's shop excepting the copy which he dedicated to me." "the great man!" said candide. "he is another pangloss!" then, turning towards him, he said: "sir, you think doubtless that all is for the best in the moral and physical world, and that nothing could be otherwise than it is?" "i, sir!" answered the scholar, "i know nothing of all that; i find that all goes awry with me; that no one knows either what is his rank, nor what is his condition, what he does nor what he ought to do; and that except supper, which is always gay, and where there appears to be enough concord, all the rest of the time is passed in impertinent quarrels; jansenist against molinist, parliament against the church, men of letters against men of letters, courtesans against courtesans, financiers against the people, wives against husbands, relatives against relatives--it is eternal war." "i have seen the worst," candide replied. "but a wise man, who since has had the misfortune to be hanged, taught me that all is marvellously well; these are but the shadows on a beautiful picture." "your hanged man mocked the world," said martin. "the shadows are horrible blots." "they are men who make the blots," said candide, "and they cannot be dispensed with." "it is not their fault then," said martin. most of the punters, who understood nothing of this language, drank, and martin reasoned with the scholar, and candide related some of his adventures to his hostess. after supper the marchioness took candide into her boudoir, and made him sit upon a sofa. "ah, well!" said she to him, "you love desperately miss cunegonde of thunder-ten-tronckh?" "yes, madame," answered candide. the marchioness replied to him with a tender smile: "you answer me like a young man from westphalia. a frenchman would have said, 'it is true that i have loved miss cunegonde, but seeing you, madame, i think i no longer love her.'" "alas! madame," said candide, "i will answer you as you wish." "your passion for her," said the marchioness, "commenced by picking up her handkerchief. i wish that you would pick up my garter." "with all my heart," said candide. and he picked it up. "but i wish that you would put it on," said the lady. and candide put it on. "you see," said she, "you are a foreigner. i sometimes make my parisian lovers languish for fifteen days, but i give myself to you the first night because one must do the honours of one's country to a young man from westphalia." the lady having perceived two enormous diamonds upon the hands of the young foreigner praised them with such good faith that from candide's fingers they passed to her own. candide, returning with the perigordian abbé, felt some remorse in having been unfaithful to miss cunegonde. the abbé sympathised in his trouble; he had had but a light part of the fifty thousand francs lost at play and of the value of the two brilliants, half given, half extorted. his design was to profit as much as he could by the advantages which the acquaintance of candide could procure for him. he spoke much of cunegonde, and candide told him that he should ask forgiveness of that beautiful one for his infidelity when he should see her in venice. the abbé redoubled his politeness and attentions, and took a tender interest in all that candide said, in all that he did, in all that he wished to do. "and so, sir, you have a rendezvous at venice?" "yes, monsieur abbé," answered candide. "it is absolutely necessary that i go to meet miss cunegonde." and then the pleasure of talking of that which he loved induced him to relate, according to his custom, part of his adventures with the fair westphalian. "i believe," said the abbé, "that miss cunegonde has a great deal of wit, and that she writes charming letters?" "i have never received any from her," said candide, "for being expelled from the castle on her account i had not an opportunity for writing to her. soon after that i heard she was dead; then i found her alive; then i lost her again; and last of all, i sent an express to her two thousand five hundred leagues from here, and i wait for an answer." the abbé listened attentively, and seemed to be in a brown study. he soon took his leave of the two foreigners after a most tender embrace. the following day candide received, on awaking, a letter couched in these terms: "my very dear love, for eight days i have been ill in this town. i learn that you are here. i would fly to your arms if i could but move. i was informed of your passage at bordeaux, where i left faithful cacambo and the old woman, who are to follow me very soon. the governor of buenos ayres has taken all, but there remains to me your heart. come! your presence will either give me life or kill me with pleasure." this charming, this unhoped-for letter transported candide with an inexpressible joy, and the illness of his dear cunegonde overwhelmed him with grief. divided between those two passions, he took his gold and his diamonds and hurried away, with martin, to the hotel where miss cunegonde was lodged. he entered her room trembling, his heart palpitating, his voice sobbing; he wished to open the curtains of the bed, and asked for a light. "take care what you do," said the servant-maid; "the light hurts her," and immediately she drew the curtain again. "my dear cunegonde," said candide, weeping, "how are you? if you cannot see me, at least speak to me." "she cannot speak," said the maid. the lady then put a plump hand out from the bed, and candide bathed it with his tears and afterwards filled it with diamonds, leaving a bag of gold upon the easy chair. in the midst of these transports in came an officer, followed by the abbé and a file of soldiers. "there," said he, "are the two suspected foreigners," and at the same time he ordered them to be seized and carried to prison. "travellers are not treated thus in el dorado," said candide. "i am more a manichean now than ever," said martin. "but pray, sir, where are you going to carry us?" said candide. "to a dungeon," answered the officer. martin, having recovered himself a little, judged that the lady who acted the part of cunegonde was a cheat, that the perigordian abbé was a knave who had imposed upon the honest simplicity of candide, and that the officer was another knave whom they might easily silence. candide, advised by martin and impatient to see the real cunegonde, rather than expose himself before a court of justice, proposed to the officer to give him three small diamonds, each worth about three thousand pistoles. "ah, sir," said the man with the ivory baton, "had you committed all the imaginable crimes you would be to me the most honest man in the world. three diamonds! each worth three thousand pistoles! sir, instead of carrying you to jail i would lose my life to serve you. there are orders for arresting all foreigners, but leave it to me. i have a brother at dieppe in normandy! i'll conduct you thither, and if you have a diamond to give him he'll take as much care of you as i would." "and why," said candide, "should all foreigners be arrested?" "it is," the perigordian abbé then made answer, "because a poor beggar of the country of atrébatie[28] heard some foolish things said. this induced him to commit a parricide, not such as that of 1610 in the month of may,[29] but such as that of 1594 in the month of december,[30] and such as others which have been committed in other years and other months by other poor devils who had heard nonsense spoken." the officer then explained what the abbé meant. "ah, the monsters!" cried candide. "what horrors among a people who dance and sing! is there no way of getting quickly out of this country where monkeys provoke tigers? i have seen no bears in my country, but _men_ i have beheld nowhere except in el dorado. in the name of god, sir, conduct me to venice, where i am to await miss cunegonde." "i can conduct you no further than lower normandy," said the officer. immediately he ordered his irons to be struck off, acknowledged himself mistaken, sent away his men, set out with candide and martin for dieppe, and left them in the care of his brother. there was then a small dutch ship in the harbour. the norman, who by the virtue of three more diamonds had become the most subservient of men, put candide and his attendants on board a vessel that was just ready to set sail for portsmouth in england. this was not the way to venice, but candide thought he had made his way out of hell, and reckoned that he would soon have an opportunity for resuming his journey. xxiii candide and martin touched upon the coast of england, and what they saw there. "ah, pangloss! pangloss! ah, martin! martin! ah, my dear cunegonde, what sort of a world is this?" said candide on board the dutch ship. "something very foolish and abominable," said martin. "you know england? are they as foolish there as in france?" "it is another kind of folly," said martin. "you know that these two nations are at war for a few acres of snow in canada,[31] and that they spend over this beautiful war much more than canada is worth. to tell you exactly, whether there are more people fit to send to a madhouse in one country than the other, is what my imperfect intelligence will not permit. i only know in general that the people we are going to see are very atrabilious." talking thus they arrived at portsmouth. the coast was lined with crowds of people, whose eyes were fixed on a fine man kneeling, with his eyes bandaged, on board one of the men of war in the harbour. four soldiers stood opposite to this man; each of them fired three balls at his head, with all the calmness in the world; and the whole assembly went away very well satisfied. "what is all this?" said candide; "and what demon is it that exercises his empire in this country?" he then asked who was that fine man who had been killed with so much ceremony. they answered, he was an admiral.[32] "and why kill this admiral?" "it is because he did not kill a sufficient number of men himself. he gave battle to a french admiral; and it has been proved that he was not near enough to him." "but," replied candide, "the french admiral was as far from the english admiral." "there is no doubt of it; but in this country it is found good, from time to time, to kill one admiral to encourage the others." candide was so shocked and bewildered by what he saw and heard, that he would not set foot on shore, and he made a bargain with the dutch skipper (were he even to rob him like the surinam captain) to conduct him without delay to venice. the skipper was ready in two days. they coasted france; they passed in sight of lisbon, and candide trembled. they passed through the straits, and entered the mediterranean. at last they landed at venice. "god be praised!" said candide, embracing martin. "it is here that i shall see again my beautiful cunegonde. i trust cacambo as myself. all is well, all will be well, all goes as well as possible." xxiv of paquette and friar giroflée. upon their arrival at venice, candide went to search for cacambo at every inn and coffee-house, and among all the ladies of pleasure, but to no purpose. he sent every day to inquire on all the ships that came in. but there was no news of cacambo. "what!" said he to martin, "i have had time to voyage from surinam to bordeaux, to go from bordeaux to paris, from paris to dieppe, from dieppe to portsmouth, to coast along portugal and spain, to cross the whole mediterranean, to spend some months, and yet the beautiful cunegonde has not arrived! instead of her i have only met a parisian wench and a perigordian abbé. cunegonde is dead without doubt, and there is nothing for me but to die. alas! how much better it would have been for me to have remained in the paradise of el dorado than to come back to this cursed europe! you are in the right, my dear martin: all is misery and illusion." he fell into a deep melancholy, and neither went to see the opera, nor any of the other diversions of the carnival; nay, he was proof against the temptations of all the ladies. "you are in truth very simple," said martin to him, "if you imagine that a mongrel valet, who has five or six millions in his pocket, will go to the other end of the world to seek your mistress and bring her to you to venice. if he find her, he will keep her to himself; if he do not find her he will get another. i advise you to forget your valet cacambo and your mistress cunegonde." martin was not consoling. candide's melancholy increased; and martin continued to prove to him that there was very little virtue or happiness upon earth, except perhaps in el dorado, where nobody could gain admittance. while they were disputing on this important subject and waiting for cunegonde, candide saw a young theatin friar in st. mark's piazza, holding a girl on his arm. the theatin looked fresh coloured, plump, and vigorous; his eyes were sparkling, his air assured, his look lofty, and his step bold. the girl was very pretty, and sang; she looked amorously at her theatin, and from time to time pinched his fat cheeks. "at least you will allow me," said candide to martin, "that these two are happy. hitherto i have met with none but unfortunate people in the whole habitable globe, except in el dorado; but as to this pair, i would venture to lay a wager that they are very happy." "i lay you they are not," said martin. "we need only ask them to dine with us," said candide, "and you will see whether i am mistaken." immediately he accosted them, presented his compliments, and invited them to his inn to eat some macaroni, with lombard partridges, and caviare, and to drink some montepulciano, lachrymæ christi, cyprus and samos wine. the girl blushed, the theatin accepted the invitation and she followed him, casting her eyes on candide with confusion and surprise, and dropping a few tears. no sooner had she set foot in candide's apartment than she cried out: "ah! mr. candide does not know paquette again." candide had not viewed her as yet with attention, his thoughts being entirely taken up with cunegonde; but recollecting her as she spoke. "alas!" said he, "my poor child, it is you who reduced doctor pangloss to the beautiful condition in which i saw him?" "alas! it was i, sir, indeed," answered paquette. "i see that you have heard all. i have been informed of the frightful disasters that befell the family of my lady baroness, and the fair cunegonde. i swear to you that my fate has been scarcely less sad. i was very innocent when you knew me. a grey friar, who was my confessor, easily seduced me. the consequences were terrible. i was obliged to quit the castle some time after the baron had sent you away with kicks on the backside. if a famous surgeon had not taken compassion on me, i should have died. for some time i was this surgeon's mistress, merely out of gratitude. his wife, who was mad with jealousy, beat me every day unmercifully; she was a fury. the surgeon was one of the ugliest of men, and i the most wretched of women, to be continually beaten for a man i did not love. you know, sir, what a dangerous thing it is for an ill-natured woman to be married to a doctor. incensed at the behaviour of his wife, he one day gave her so effectual a remedy to cure her of a slight cold, that she died two hours after, in most horrid convulsions. the wife's relations prosecuted the husband; he took flight, and i was thrown into jail. my innocence would not have saved me if i had not been good-looking. the judge set me free, on condition that he succeeded the surgeon. i was soon supplanted by a rival, turned out of doors quite destitute, and obliged to continue this abominable trade, which appears so pleasant to you men, while to us women it is the utmost abyss of misery. i have come to exercise the profession at venice. ah! sir, if you could only imagine what it is to be obliged to caress indifferently an old merchant, a lawyer, a monk, a gondolier, an abbé, to be exposed to abuse and insults; to be often reduced to borrowing a petticoat, only to go and have it raised by a disagreeable man; to be robbed by one of what one has earned from another; to be subject to the extortions of the officers of justice; and to have in prospect only a frightful old age, a hospital, and a dung-hill; you would conclude that i am one of the most unhappy creatures in the world."[33] paquette thus opened her heart to honest candide, in the presence of martin, who said to his friend: "you see that already i have won half the wager." friar giroflée stayed in the dining-room, and drank a glass or two of wine while he was waiting for dinner. "but," said candide to paquette, "you looked so gay and content when i met you; you sang and you behaved so lovingly to the theatin, that you seemed to me as happy as you pretend to be now the reverse." "ah! sir," answered paquette, "this is one of the miseries of the trade. yesterday i was robbed and beaten by an officer; yet to-day i must put on good humour to please a friar." candide wanted no more convincing; he owned that martin was in the right. they sat down to table with paquette and the theatin; the repast was entertaining; and towards the end they conversed with all confidence. "father," said candide to the friar, "you appear to me to enjoy a state that all the world might envy; the flower of health shines in your face, your expression makes plain your happiness; you have a very pretty girl for your recreation, and you seem well satisfied with your state as a theatin." "my faith, sir," said friar giroflée, "i wish that all the theatins were at the bottom of the sea. i have been tempted a hundred times to set fire to the convent, and go and become a turk. my parents forced me at the age of fifteen to put on this detestable habit, to increase the fortune of a cursed elder brother, whom god confound. jealousy, discord, and fury, dwell in the convent. it is true i have preached a few bad sermons that have brought me in a little money, of which the prior stole half, while the rest serves to maintain my girls; but when i return at night to the monastery, i am ready to dash my head against the walls of the dormitory; and all my fellows are in the same case." martin turned towards candide with his usual coolness. "well," said he, "have i not won the whole wager?" candide gave two thousand piastres to paquette, and one thousand to friar giroflée. "i'll answer for it," said he, "that with this they will be happy." "i do not believe it at all," said martin; "you will, perhaps, with these piastres only render them the more unhappy." "let that be as it may," said candide, "but one thing consoles me. i see that we often meet with those whom we expected never to see more; so that, perhaps, as i have found my red sheep and paquette, it may well be that i shall also find cunegonde." "i wish," said martin, "she may one day make you very happy; but i doubt it very much." "you are very hard of belief," said candide. "i have lived," said martin. "you see those gondoliers," said candide, "are they not perpetually singing?" "you do not see them," said martin, "at home with their wives and brats. the doge has his troubles, the gondoliers have theirs. it is true that, all things considered, the life of a gondolier is preferable to that of a doge; but i believe the difference to be so trifling that it is not worth the trouble of examining." "people talk," said candide, "of the senator pococurante, who lives in that fine palace on the brenta, where he entertains foreigners in the politest manner. they pretend that this man has never felt any uneasiness." "i should be glad to see such a rarity," said martin. candide immediately sent to ask the lord pococurante permission to wait upon him the next day. xxv the visit to lord pococurante, a noble venetian. candide and martin went in a gondola on the brenta, and arrived at the palace of the noble signor pococurante. the gardens, laid out with taste, were adorned with fine marble statues. the palace was beautifully built. the master of the house was a man of sixty, and very rich. he received the two travellers with polite indifference, which put candide a little out of countenance, but was not at all disagreeable to martin. first, two pretty girls, very neatly dressed, served them with chocolate, which was frothed exceedingly well. candide could not refrain from commending their beauty, grace, and address. "they are good enough creatures," said the senator. "i make them lie with me sometimes, for i am very tired of the ladies of the town, of their coquetries, of their jealousies, of their quarrels, of their humours, of their pettinesses, of their prides, of their follies, and of the sonnets which one must make, or have made, for them. but after all, these two girls begin to weary me." after breakfast, candide walking into a long gallery was surprised by the beautiful pictures. he asked, by what master were the two first. "they are by raphael," said the senator. "i bought them at a great price, out of vanity, some years ago. they are said to be the finest things in italy, but they do not please me at all. the colours are too dark, the figures are not sufficiently rounded, nor in good relief; the draperies in no way resemble stuffs. in a word, whatever may be said, i do not find there a true imitation of nature. i only care for a picture when i think i see nature itself; and there are none of this sort. i have a great many pictures, but i prize them very little." while they were waiting for dinner pococurante ordered a concert. candide found the music delicious. "this noise," said the senator, "may amuse one for half an hour; but if it were to last longer it would grow tiresome to everybody, though they durst not own it. music, to-day, is only the art of executing difficult things, and that which is only difficult cannot please long. perhaps i should be fonder of the opera if they had not found the secret of making of it a monster which shocks me. let who will go to see bad tragedies set to music, where the scenes are contrived for no other end than to introduce two or three songs ridiculously out of place, to show off an actress's voice. let who will, or who can, die away with pleasure at the sight of an eunuch quavering the _rôle_ of cæsar, or of cato, and strutting awkwardly upon the stage. for my part i have long since renounced those paltry entertainments which constitute the glory of modern italy, and are purchased so dearly by sovereigns." candide disputed the point a little, but with discretion. martin was entirely of the senator's opinion. they sat down to table, and after an excellent dinner they went into the library. candide, seeing a homer magnificently bound, commended the virtuoso on his good taste. "there," said he, "is a book that was once the delight of the great pangloss, the best philosopher in germany." "it is not mine," answered pococurante coolly. "they used at one time to make me believe that i took a pleasure in reading him. but that continual repetition of battles, so extremely like one another; those gods that are always active without doing anything decisive; that helen who is the cause of the war, and who yet scarcely appears in the piece; that troy, so long besieged without being taken; all these together caused me great weariness. i have sometimes asked learned men whether they were not as weary as i of that work. those who were sincere have owned to me that the poem made them fall asleep; yet it was necessary to have it in their library as a monument of antiquity, or like those rusty medals which are no longer of use in commerce." "but your excellency does not think thus of virgil?" said candide. "i grant," said the senator, "that the second, fourth, and sixth books of his _æneid_ are excellent, but as for his pious æneas, his strong cloanthus, his friend achates, his little ascanius, his silly king latinus, his bourgeois amata, his insipid lavinia, i think there can be nothing more flat and disagreeable. i prefer tasso a good deal, or even the soporific tales of ariosto." "may i presume to ask you, sir," said candide, "whether you do not receive a great deal of pleasure from reading horace?" "there are maxims in this writer," answered pococurante, "from which a man of the world may reap great benefit, and being written in energetic verse they are more easily impressed upon the memory. but i care little for his journey to brundusium, and his account of a bad dinner, or of his low quarrel between one rupilius whose words he says were full of poisonous filth, and another whose language was imbued with vinegar. i have read with much distaste his indelicate verses against old women and witches; nor do i see any merit in telling his friend mæcenas that if he will but rank him in the choir of lyric poets, his lofty head shall touch the stars. fools admire everything in an author of reputation. for my part, i read only to please myself. i like only that which serves my purpose." candide, having been educated never to judge for himself, was much surprised at what he heard. martin found there was a good deal of reason in pococurante's remarks. "oh! here is cicero," said candide. "here is the great man whom i fancy you are never tired of reading." "i never read him," replied the venetian. "what is it to me whether he pleads for rabirius or cluentius? i try causes enough myself; his philosophical works seem to me better, but when i found that he doubted of everything, i concluded that i knew as much as he, and that i had no need of a guide to learn ignorance." "ha! here are four-score volumes of the academy of sciences," cried martin. "perhaps there is something valuable in this collection." "there might be," said pococurante, "if only one of those rakers of rubbish had shown how to make pins; but in all these volumes there is nothing but chimerical systems, and not a single useful thing." "and what dramatic works i see here," said candide, "in italian, spanish, and french." "yes," replied the senator, "there are three thousand, and not three dozen of them good for anything. as to those collections of sermons, which altogether are not worth a single page of seneca, and those huge volumes of theology, you may well imagine that neither i nor any one else ever opens them." martin saw some shelves filled with english books. "i have a notion," said he, "that a republican must be greatly pleased with most of these books, which are written with a spirit of freedom." "yes," answered pococurante, "it is noble to write as one thinks; this is the privilege of humanity. in all our italy we write only what we do not think; those who inhabit the country of the cæsars and the antoninuses dare not acquire a single idea without the permission of a dominican friar. i should be pleased with the liberty which inspires the english genius if passion and party spirit did not corrupt all that is estimable in this precious liberty." candide, observing a milton, asked whether he did not look upon this author as a great man. "who?" said pococurante, "that barbarian, who writes a long commentary in ten books of harsh verse on the first chapter of genesis; that coarse imitator of the greeks, who disfigures the creation, and who, while moses represents the eternal producing the world by a word, makes the messiah take a great pair of compasses from the armoury of heaven to circumscribe his work? how can i have any esteem for a writer who has spoiled tasso's hell and the devil, who transforms lucifer sometimes into a toad and other times into a pigmy, who makes him repeat the same things a hundred times, who makes him dispute on theology, who, by a serious imitation of ariosto's comic invention of firearms, represents the devils cannonading in heaven? neither i nor any man in italy could take pleasure in those melancholy extravagances; and the marriage of sin and death, and the snakes brought forth by sin, are enough to turn the stomach of any one with the least taste, [and his long description of a pest-house is good only for a grave-digger]. this obscure, whimsical, and disagreeable poem was despised upon its first publication, and i only treat it now as it was treated in its own country by contemporaries. for the matter of that i say what i think, and i care very little whether others think as i do." candide was grieved at this speech, for he had a respect for homer and was fond of milton. "alas!" said he softly to martin, "i am afraid that this man holds our german poets in very great contempt." "there would not be much harm in that," said martin. "oh! what a superior man," said candide below his breath. "what a great genius is this pococurante! nothing can please him." after their survey of the library they went down into the garden, where candide praised its several beauties. "i know of nothing in so bad a taste," said the master. "all you see here is merely trifling. after to-morrow i will have it planted with a nobler design." "well," said candide to martin when they had taken their leave, "you will agree that this is the happiest of mortals, for he is above everything he possesses." "but do you not see," answered martin, "that he is disgusted with all he possesses? plato observed a long while ago that those stomachs are not the best that reject all sorts of food." "but is there not a pleasure," said candide, "in criticising everything, in pointing out faults where others see nothing but beauties?" "that is to say," replied martin, "that there is some pleasure in having no pleasure." "well, well," said candide, "i find that i shall be the only happy man when i am blessed with the sight of my dear cunegonde." "it is always well to hope," said martin. however, the days and the weeks passed. cacambo did not come, and candide was so overwhelmed with grief that he did not even reflect that paquette and friar giroflée did not return to thank him. xxvi of a supper which candide and martin took with six strangers, and who they were.[34] one evening that candide and martin were going to sit down to supper with some foreigners who lodged in the same inn, a man whose complexion was as black as soot, came behind candide, and taking him by the arm, said: "get yourself ready to go along with us; do not fail." upon this he turned round and saw--cacambo! nothing but the sight of cunegonde could have astonished and delighted him more. he was on the point of going mad with joy. he embraced his dear friend. "cunegonde is here, without doubt; where is she? take me to her that i may die of joy in her company." "cunegonde is not here," said cacambo, "she is at constantinople." "oh, heavens! at constantinople! but were she in china i would fly thither; let us be off." "we shall set out after supper," replied cacambo. "i can tell you nothing more; i am a slave, my master awaits me, i must serve him at table; speak not a word, eat, and then get ready." candide, distracted between joy and grief, delighted at seeing his faithful agent again, astonished at finding him a slave, filled with the fresh hope of recovering his mistress, his heart palpitating, his understanding confused, sat down to table with martin, who saw all these scenes quite unconcerned, and with six strangers who had come to spend the carnival at venice. cacambo waited at table upon one of the strangers; towards the end of the entertainment he drew near his master, and whispered in his ear: "sire, your majesty may start when you please, the vessel is ready." on saying these words he went out. the company in great surprise looked at one another without speaking a word, when another domestic approached his master and said to him: "sire, your majesty's chaise is at padua, and the boat is ready." the master gave a nod and the servant went away. the company all stared at one another again, and their surprise redoubled. a third valet came up to a third stranger, saying: "sire, believe me, your majesty ought not to stay here any longer. i am going to get everything ready." and immediately he disappeared. candide and martin did not doubt that this was a masquerade of the carnival. then a fourth domestic said to a fourth master: "your majesty may depart when you please." saying this he went away like the rest. the fifth valet said the same thing to the fifth master. but the sixth valet spoke differently to the sixth stranger, who sat near candide. he said to him: "faith, sire, they will no longer give credit to your majesty nor to me, and we may perhaps both of us be put in jail this very night. therefore i will take care of myself. adieu." the servants being all gone, the six strangers, with candide and martin, remained in a profound silence. at length candide broke it. "gentlemen," said he, "this is a very good joke indeed, but why should you all be kings? for me i own that neither martin nor i is a king." cacambo's master then gravely answered in italian: "i am not at all joking. my name is achmet iii. i was grand sultan many years. i dethroned my brother; my nephew dethroned me, my viziers were beheaded, and i am condemned to end my days in the old seraglio. my nephew, the great sultan mahmoud, permits me to travel sometimes for my health, and i am come to spend the carnival at venice." a young man who sat next to achmet, spoke then as follows: "my name is ivan. i was once emperor of all the russias, but was dethroned in my cradle. my parents were confined in prison and i was educated there; yet i am sometimes allowed to travel in company with persons who act as guards; and i am come to spend the carnival at venice." the third said: "i am charles edward, king of england; my father has resigned all his legal rights to me. i have fought in defence of them; and above eight hundred of my adherents have been hanged, drawn, and quartered. i have been confined in prison; i am going to rome, to pay a visit to the king, my father, who was dethroned as well as myself and my grandfather, and i am come to spend the carnival at venice." the fourth spoke thus in his turn: "i am the king of poland; the fortune of war has stripped me of my hereditary dominions; my father underwent the same vicissitudes; i resign myself to providence in the same manner as sultan achmet, the emperor ivan, and king charles edward, whom god long preserve; and i am come to the carnival at venice." the fifth said: "i am king of poland also; i have been twice dethroned; but providence has given me another country, where i have done more good than all the sarmatian kings were ever capable of doing on the banks of the vistula; i resign myself likewise to providence, and am come to pass the carnival at venice." it was now the sixth monarch's turn to speak: "gentlemen," said he, "i am not so great a prince as any of you; however, i am a king. i am theodore, elected king of corsica; i had the title of majesty, and now i am scarcely treated as a gentleman. i have coined money, and now am not worth a farthing; i have had two secretaries of state, and now i have scarce a valet; i have seen myself on a throne, and i have seen myself upon straw in a common jail in london. i am afraid that i shall meet with the same treatment here though, like your majesties, i am come to see the carnival at venice." the other five kings listened to this speech with generous compassion. each of them gave twenty sequins to king theodore to buy him clothes and linen; and candide made him a present of a diamond worth two thousand sequins. "who can this private person be," said the five kings to one another, "who is able to give, and really has given, a hundred times as much as any of us?" just as they rose from table, in came four serene highnesses, who had also been stripped of their territories by the fortune of war, and were come to spend the carnival at venice. but candide paid no regard to these newcomers, his thoughts were entirely employed on his voyage to constantinople, in search of his beloved cunegonde. xxvii candide's voyage to constantinople. the faithful cacambo had already prevailed upon the turkish skipper, who was to conduct the sultan achmet to constantinople, to receive candide and martin on his ship. they both embarked after having made their obeisance to his miserable highness. "you see," said candide to martin on the way, "we supped with six dethroned kings, and of those six there was one to whom i gave charity. perhaps there are many other princes yet more unfortunate. for my part, i have only lost a hundred sheep; and now i am flying into cunegonde's arms. my dear martin, yet once more pangloss was right: all is for the best." "i wish it," answered martin. "but," said candide, "it was a very strange adventure we met with at venice. it has never before been seen or heard that six dethroned kings have supped together at a public inn." "it is not more extraordinary," said martin, "than most of the things that have happened to us. it is a very common thing for kings to be dethroned; and as for the honour we have had of supping in their company, it is a trifle not worth our attention." no sooner had candide got on board the vessel than he flew to his old valet and friend cacambo, and tenderly embraced him. "well," said he, "what news of cunegonde? is she still a prodigy of beauty? does she love me still? how is she? thou hast doubtless bought her a palace at constantinople?" "my dear master," answered cacambo, "cunegonde washes dishes on the banks of the propontis, in the service of a prince, who has very few dishes to wash; she is a slave in the family of an ancient sovereign named ragotsky,[35] to whom the grand turk allows three crowns a day in his exile. but what is worse still is, that she has lost her beauty and has become horribly ugly." "well, handsome or ugly," replied candide, "i am a man of honour, and it is my duty to love her still. but how came she to be reduced to so abject a state with the five or six millions that you took to her?" "ah!" said cacambo, "was i not to give two millions to senor don fernando d'ibaraa, y figueora, y mascarenes, y lampourdos, y souza, governor of buenos ayres, for permitting miss cunegonde to come away? and did not a corsair bravely rob us of all the rest? did not this corsair carry us to cape matapan, to milo, to nicaria, to samos, to petra, to the dardanelles, to marmora, to scutari? cunegonde and the old woman serve the prince i now mentioned to you, and i am slave to the dethroned sultan." "what a series of shocking calamities!" cried candide. "but after all, i have some diamonds left; and i may easily pay cunegonde's ransom. yet it is a pity that she is grown so ugly." then, turning towards martin: "who do you think," said he, "is most to be pitied--the sultan achmet, the emperor ivan, king charles edward, or i?" "how should i know!" answered martin. "i must see into your hearts to be able to tell." "ah!" said candide, "if pangloss were here, he could tell." "i know not," said martin, "in what sort of scales your pangloss would weigh the misfortunes of mankind and set a just estimate on their sorrows. all that i can presume to say is, that there are millions of people upon earth who have a hundred times more to complain of than king charles edward, the emperor ivan, or the sultan achmet." "that may well be," said candide. in a few days they reached the bosphorus, and candide began by paying a very high ransom for cacambo. then without losing time, he and his companions went on board a galley, in order to search on the banks of the propontis for his cunegonde, however ugly she might have become. among the crew there were two slaves who rowed very badly, and to whose bare shoulders the levantine captain would now and then apply blows from a bull's pizzle. candide, from a natural impulse, looked at these two slaves more attentively than at the other oarsmen, and approached them with pity. their features though greatly disfigured, had a slight resemblance to those of pangloss and the unhappy jesuit and westphalian baron, brother to miss cunegonde. this moved and saddened him. he looked at them still more attentively. "indeed," said he to cacambo, "if i had not seen master pangloss hanged, and if i had not had the misfortune to kill the baron, i should think it was they that were rowing." at the names of the baron and of pangloss, the two galley-slaves uttered a loud cry, held fast by the seat, and let drop their oars. the captain ran up to them and redoubled his blows with the bull's pizzle. "stop! stop! sir," cried candide. "i will give you what money you please." "what! it is candide!" said one of the slaves. "what! it is candide!" said the other. "do i dream?" cried candide; "am i awake? or am i on board a galley? is this the baron whom i killed? is this master pangloss whom i saw hanged?" "it is we! it is we!" answered they. "well! is this the great philosopher?" said martin. "ah! captain," said candide, "what ransom will you take for monsieur de thunder-ten-tronckh, one of the first barons of the empire, and for monsieur pangloss, the profoundest metaphysician in germany?" "dog of a christian," answered the levantine captain, "since these two dogs of christian slaves are barons and metaphysicians, which i doubt not are high dignities in their country, you shall give me fifty thousand sequins." "you shall have them, sir. carry me back at once to constantinople, and you shall receive the money directly. but no; carry me first to miss cunegonde." upon the first proposal made by candide, however, the levantine captain had already tacked about, and made the crew ply their oars quicker than a bird cleaves the air. candide embraced the baron and pangloss a hundred times. "and how happened it, my dear baron, that i did not kill you? and, my dear pangloss, how came you to life again after being hanged? and why are you both in a turkish galley?" "and it is true that my dear sister is in this country?" said the baron. "yes," answered cacambo. "then i behold, once more, my dear candide," cried pangloss. candide presented martin and cacambo to them; they embraced each other, and all spoke at once. the galley flew; they were already in the port. instantly candide sent for a jew, to whom he sold for fifty thousand sequins a diamond worth a hundred thousand, though the fellow swore to him by abraham that he could give him no more. he immediately paid the ransom for the baron and pangloss. the latter threw himself at the feet of his deliverer, and bathed them with his tears; the former thanked him with a nod, and promised to return him the money on the first opportunity. "but is it indeed possible that my sister can be in turkey?" said he. "nothing is more possible," said cacambo, "since she scours the dishes in the service of a transylvanian prince." candide sent directly for two jews and sold them some more diamonds, and then they all set out together in another galley to deliver cunegonde from slavery. xxviii what happened to candide, cunegonde, pangloss, martin, etc. "i ask your pardon once more," said candide to the baron, "your pardon, reverend father, for having run you through the body." "say no more about it," answered the baron. "i was a little too hasty, i own, but since you wish to know by what fatality i came to be a galley-slave i will inform you. after i had been cured by the surgeon of the college of the wound you gave me, i was attacked and carried off by a party of spanish troops, who confined me in prison at buenos ayres at the very time my sister was setting out thence. i asked leave to return to rome to the general of my order. i was appointed chaplain to the french ambassador at constantinople. i had not been eight days in this employment when one evening i met with a young ichoglan, who was a very handsome fellow. the weather was warm. the young man wanted to bathe, and i took this opportunity of bathing also. i did not know that it was a capital crime for a christian to be found naked with a young mussulman. a cadi ordered me a hundred blows on the soles of the feet, and condemned me to the galleys. i do not think there ever was a greater act of injustice. but i should be glad to know how my sister came to be scullion to a transylvanian prince who has taken shelter among the turks." "but you, my dear pangloss," said candide, "how can it be that i behold you again?" "it is true," said pangloss, "that you saw me hanged. i should have been burnt, but you may remember it rained exceedingly hard when they were going to roast me; the storm was so violent that they despaired of lighting the fire, so i was hanged because they could do no better. a surgeon purchased my body, carried me home, and dissected me. he began with making a crucial incision on me from the navel to the clavicula. one could not have been worse hanged than i was. the executioner of the holy inquisition was a sub-deacon, and knew how to burn people marvellously well, but he was not accustomed to hanging. the cord was wet and did not slip properly, and besides it was badly tied; in short, i still drew my breath, when the crucial incision made me give such a frightful scream that my surgeon fell flat upon his back, and imagining that he had been dissecting the devil he ran away, dying with fear, and fell down the staircase in his flight. his wife, hearing the noise, flew from the next room. she saw me stretched out upon the table with my crucial incision. she was seized with yet greater fear than her husband, fled, and tumbled over him. when they came to themselves a little, i heard the wife say to her husband: 'my dear, how could you take it into your head to dissect a heretic? do you not know that these people always have the devil in their bodies? i will go and fetch a priest this minute to exorcise him.' at this proposal i shuddered, and mustering up what little courage i had still remaining i cried out aloud, 'have mercy on me!' at length the portuguese barber plucked up his spirits. he sewed up my wounds; his wife even nursed me. i was upon my legs at the end of fifteen days. the barber found me a place as lackey to a knight of malta who was going to venice, but finding that my master had no money to pay me my wages i entered the service of a venetian merchant, and went with him to constantinople. one day i took it into my head to step into a mosque, where i saw an old iman and a very pretty young devotee who was saying her paternosters. her bosom was uncovered, and between her breasts she had a beautiful bouquet of tulips, roses, anemones, ranunculus, hyacinths, and auriculas. she dropped her bouquet; i picked it up, and presented it to her with a profound reverence. i was so long in delivering it that the iman began to get angry, and seeing that i was a christian he called out for help. they carried me before the cadi, who ordered me a hundred lashes on the soles of the feet and sent me to the galleys. i was chained to the very same galley and the same bench as the young baron. on board this galley there were four young men from marseilles, five neapolitan priests, and two monks from corfu, who told us similar adventures happened daily. the baron maintained that he had suffered greater injustice than i, and i insisted that it was far more innocent to take up a bouquet and place it again on a woman's bosom than to be found stark naked with an ichoglan. we were continually disputing, and received twenty lashes with a bull's pizzle when the concatenation of universal events brought you to our galley, and you were good enough to ransom us." "well, my dear pangloss," said candide to him, "when you had been hanged, dissected, whipped, and were tugging at the oar, did you always think that everything happens for the best?" "i am still of my first opinion," answered pangloss, "for i am a philosopher and i cannot retract, especially as leibnitz could never be wrong; and besides, the pre-established harmony is the finest thing in the world, and so is his _plenum_ and _materia subtilis_." xxix how candide found cunegonde and the old woman again. while candide, the baron, pangloss, martin, and cacambo were relating their several adventures, were reasoning on the contingent or non-contingent events of the universe, disputing on effects and causes, on moral and physical evil, on liberty and necessity, and on the consolations a slave may feel even on a turkish galley, they arrived at the house of the transylvanian prince on the banks of the propontis. the first objects which met their sight were cunegonde and the old woman hanging towels out to dry. the baron paled at this sight. the tender, loving candide, seeing his beautiful cunegonde embrowned, with blood-shot eyes, withered neck, wrinkled cheeks, and rough, red arms, recoiled three paces, seized with horror, and then advanced out of good manners. she embraced candide and her brother; they embraced the old woman, and candide ransomed them both. there was a small farm in the neighbourhood which the old woman proposed to candide to make a shift with till the company could be provided for in a better manner. cunegonde did not know she had grown ugly, for nobody had told her of it; and she reminded candide of his promise in so positive a tone that the good man durst not refuse her. he therefore intimated to the baron that he intended marrying his sister. "i will not suffer," said the baron, "such meanness on her part, and such insolence on yours; i will never be reproached with this scandalous thing; my sister's children would never be able to enter the church in germany. no; my sister shall only marry a baron of the empire." cunegonde flung herself at his feet, and bathed them with her tears; still he was inflexible. "thou foolish fellow," said candide; "i have delivered thee out of the galleys, i have paid thy ransom, and thy sister's also; she was a scullion, and is very ugly, yet i am so condescending as to marry her; and dost thou pretend to oppose the match? i should kill thee again, were i only to consult my anger." "thou mayest kill me again," said the baron, "but thou shalt not marry my sister, at least whilst i am living." xxx the conclusion. at the bottom of his heart candide had no wish to marry cunegonde. but the extreme impertinence of the baron determined him to conclude the match, and cunegonde pressed him so strongly that he could not go from his word. he consulted pangloss, martin, and the faithful cacambo. pangloss drew up an excellent memorial, wherein he proved that the baron had no right over his sister, and that according to all the laws of the empire, she might marry candide with her left hand. martin was for throwing the baron into the sea; cacambo decided that it would be better to deliver him up again to the captain of the galley, after which they thought to send him back to the general father of the order at rome by the first ship. this advice was well received, the old woman approved it; they said not a word to his sister; the thing was executed for a little money, and they had the double pleasure of entrapping a jesuit, and punishing the pride of a german baron. it is natural to imagine that after so many disasters candide married, and living with the philosopher pangloss, the philosopher martin, the prudent cacambo, and the old woman, having besides brought so many diamonds from the country of the ancient incas, must have led a very happy life. but he was so much imposed upon by the jews that he had nothing left except his small farm; his wife became uglier every day, more peevish and unsupportable; the old woman was infirm and even more fretful than cunegonde. cacambo, who worked in the garden, and took vegetables for sale to constantinople, was fatigued with hard work, and cursed his destiny. pangloss was in despair at not shining in some german university. for martin, he was firmly persuaded that he would be as badly off elsewhere, and therefore bore things patiently. candide, martin, and pangloss sometimes disputed about morals and metaphysics. they often saw passing under the windows of their farm boats full of effendis, pashas, and cadis, who were going into banishment to lemnos, mitylene, or erzeroum. and they saw other cadis, pashas, and effendis coming to supply the place of the exiles, and afterwards exiled in their turn. they saw heads decently impaled for presentation to the sublime porte. such spectacles as these increased the number of their dissertations; and when they did not dispute time hung so heavily upon their hands, that one day the old woman ventured to say to them: "i want to know which is worse, to be ravished a hundred times by negro pirates, to have a buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an _auto-da-fé_, to be dissected, to row in the galleys--in short, to go through all the miseries we have undergone, or to stay here and have nothing to do?" "it is a great question," said candide. this discourse gave rise to new reflections, and martin especially concluded that man was born to live either in a state of distracting inquietude or of lethargic disgust. candide did not quite agree to that, but he affirmed nothing. pangloss owned that he had always suffered horribly, but as he had once asserted that everything went wonderfully well, he asserted it still, though he no longer believed it. what helped to confirm martin in his detestable principles, to stagger candide more than ever, and to puzzle pangloss, was that one day they saw paquette and friar giroflée land at the farm in extreme misery. they had soon squandered their three thousand piastres, parted, were reconciled, quarrelled again, were thrown into gaol, had escaped, and friar giroflée had at length become turk. paquette continued her trade wherever she went, but made nothing of it. "i foresaw," said martin to candide, "that your presents would soon be dissipated, and only make them the more miserable. you have rolled in millions of money, you and cacambo; and yet you are not happier than friar giroflée and paquette." "ha!" said pangloss to paquette, "providence has then brought you amongst us again, my poor child! do you know that you cost me the tip of my nose, an eye, and an ear, as you may see? what a world is this!" and now this new adventure set them philosophising more than ever. in the neighbourhood there lived a very famous dervish who was esteemed the best philosopher in all turkey, and they went to consult him. pangloss was the speaker. "master," said he, "we come to beg you to tell why so strange an animal as man was made." "with what meddlest thou?" said the dervish; "is it thy business?" "but, reverend father," said candide, "there is horrible evil in this world." "what signifies it," said the dervish, "whether there be evil or good? when his highness sends a ship to egypt, does he trouble his head whether the mice on board are at their ease or not?" "what, then, must we do?" said pangloss. "hold your tongue," answered the dervish. "i was in hopes," said pangloss, "that i should reason with you a little about causes and effects, about the best of possible worlds, the origin of evil, the nature of the soul, and the pre-established harmony." at these words, the dervish shut the door in their faces. during this conversation, the news was spread that two viziers and the mufti had been strangled at constantinople, and that several of their friends had been impaled. this catastrophe made a great noise for some hours. pangloss, candide, and martin, returning to the little farm, saw a good old man taking the fresh air at his door under an orange bower. pangloss, who was as inquisitive as he was argumentative, asked the old man what was the name of the strangled mufti. "i do not know," answered the worthy man, "and i have not known the name of any mufti, nor of any vizier. i am entirely ignorant of the event you mention; i presume in general that they who meddle with the administration of public affairs die sometimes miserably, and that they deserve it; but i never trouble my head about what is transacting at constantinople; i content myself with sending there for sale the fruits of the garden which i cultivate." having said these words, he invited the strangers into his house; his two sons and two daughters presented them with several sorts of sherbet, which they made themselves, with kaimak enriched with the candied-peel of citrons, with oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and mocha coffee unadulterated with the bad coffee of batavia or the american islands. after which the two daughters of the honest mussulman perfumed the strangers' beards. "you must have a vast and magnificent estate," said candide to the turk. "i have only twenty acres," replied the old man; "i and my children cultivate them; our labour preserves us from three great evils--weariness, vice, and want." candide, on his way home, made profound reflections on the old man's conversation. "this honest turk," said he to pangloss and martin, "seems to be in a situation far preferable to that of the six kings with whom we had the honour of supping." "grandeur," said pangloss, "is extremely dangerous according to the testimony of philosophers. for, in short, eglon, king of moab, was assassinated by ehud; absalom was hung by his hair, and pierced with three darts; king nadab, the son of jeroboam, was killed by baasa; king ela by zimri; ahaziah by jehu; athaliah by jehoiada; the kings jehoiakim, jeconiah, and zedekiah, were led into captivity. you know how perished croesus, astyages, darius, dionysius of syracuse, pyrrhus, perseus, hannibal, jugurtha, ariovistus, cæsar, pompey, nero, otho, vitellius, domitian, richard ii. of england, edward ii., henry vi., richard iii., mary stuart, charles i., the three henrys of france, the emperor henry iv.! you know----" "i know also," said candide, "that we must cultivate our garden." "you are right," said pangloss, "for when man was first placed in the garden of eden, he was put there _ut operaretur eum_, that he might cultivate it; which shows that man was not born to be idle." "let us work," said martin, "without disputing; it is the only way to render life tolerable." the whole little society entered into this laudable design, according to their different abilities. their little plot of land produced plentiful crops. cunegonde was, indeed, very ugly, but she became an excellent pastry cook; paquette worked at embroidery; the old woman looked after the linen. they were all, not excepting friar giroflée, of some service or other; for he made a good joiner, and became a very honest man. pangloss sometimes said to candide: "there is a concatenation of events in this best of all possible worlds: for if you had not been kicked out of a magnificent castle for love of miss cunegonde: if you had not been put into the inquisition: if you had not walked over america: if you had not stabbed the baron: if you had not lost all your sheep from the fine country of el dorado: you would not be here eating preserved citrons and pistachio-nuts." "all that is very well," answered candide, "but let us cultivate our garden." footnotes: [1] p. 2. the name pangloss is derived from two greek words signifying "all" and "language." [2] p. 8. the abares were a tribe of tartars settled on the shores of the danube, who later dwelt in part of circassia. [3] p. 15. venereal disease was said to have been first brought from hispaniola, in the west indies, by some followers of columbus who were later employed in the siege of naples. from this latter circumstance it was at one time known as the neapolitan disease. [4] p. 19. the great earthquake of lisbon happened on the first of november, 1755. [5] p. 20. such was the aversion of the japanese to the christian faith that they compelled europeans trading with their islands to trample on the cross, renounce all marks of christianity, and swear that it was not their religion. see chap. xi. of the voyage to laputa in swift's _gulliver's travels_. [6] p. 23. this _auto-da-fé_ actually took place, some months after the earthquake, on june 20, 1756. [7] p. 23. the rejection of bacon convicting them, of course, of being jews, and therefore fitting victims for an _auto-da-fé_. [8] p. 24. the _san-benito_ was a kind of loose over-garment painted with flames, figures of devils, the victim's own portrait, etc., worn by persons condemned to death by the inquisition when going to the stake on the occasion of an _auto-da-fé_. those who expressed repentance for their errors wore a garment of the same kind covered with flames directed downwards, while that worn by jews, sorcerers, and renegades bore a st. andrew's cross before and behind. [9] p. 26. "this notre-dame is of wood; every year she weeps on the day of her _fête_, and the people weep also. one day the preacher, seeing a carpenter with dry eyes, asked him how it was that he did not dissolve in tears when the holy virgin wept. 'ah, my reverend father,' replied he, 'it is i who refastened her in her niche yesterday. i drove three great nails through her behind; it is then she would have wept if she had been able.'"--voltaire, _mélanges_. [10] p. 42. the following posthumous note of voltaire's was first added to m. beuchot's edition of his works issued in 1829; "see the extreme discretion of the author; there has not been up to the present any pope named urban x.; he feared to give a bastard to a known pope. what circumspection! what delicacy of conscience!" the last pope urban was the eighth, and he died in 1644. [11] p. 45. muley-ismael was emperor of morocco from 1672 to 1727, and was a notoriously cruel tyrant. [12] p. 47. "oh, what a misfortune to be an eunuch!" [13] p. 48. carlo broschi, called farinelli, an italian singer, born at naples in 1705, without being exactly minister, governed spain under ferdinand vi.; he died in 1782. he has been made one of the chief persons in one of the comic operas of mm. auber and scribe. [14] p. 53. jean robeck, a swede, who was born in 1672, will be found mentioned in rousseau's _nouvelle héloïse_. he drowned himself in the weser at bremen in 1729, and was the author of a latin treatise on voluntary death, first printed in 1735. [15] p. 60. a spontoon was a kind of half-pike, a military weapon carried by officers of infantry and used as a medium for signalling orders to the regiment. [16] p. 64. later voltaire substituted the name of the father croust for that of didrie. of croust he said in the _dictionnaire philosophique_ that he was "the most brutal of the society." [17] p. 68. by the _journal of trevoux_ voltaire meant a critical periodical printed by the jesuits at trevoux under the title of _mémoires pour servir à l'historie des sciences et des beaux-arts_. it existed from 1701 until 1767, during which period its title underwent many changes. [18] p. 76. it has been suggested that voltaire, in speaking of red sheep, referred to the llama, a south american ruminant allied to the camel. these animals are sometimes of a reddish colour, and were notable as pack-carriers and for their fleetness. [19] p. 78. the first english translator curiously gives "a tourene of bouilli that weighed two hundred pounds," as the equivalent of "_un contour bouilli qui pesait deux cent livres_." the french editor of the 1869 reprint points out that the south american vulture, or condor, is meant; the name of this bird, it may be added, is taken from "_cuntur_," that given it by the aborigines. [20] p. 90. spanish half-crowns. [21] p. 99. _socinians_; followers of the teaching of lalius and faustus socinus (16th century), which denied the doctrine of the trinity, the deity of christ, the personality of the devil, the native and total depravity of man, the vicarious atonement and eternal punishment. the socinians are now represented by the unitarians. _manicheans_; followers of manes or manichæus (3rd century), a persian who maintained that there are two principles, the one good and the other evil, each equally powerful in the government of the world. [22] p. 107. in the 1759 editions, in place of the long passage in brackets from here to page 215, there was only the following: "'sir,' said the perigordian abbé to him, 'have you noticed that young person who has so roguish a face and so fine a figure? you may have her for ten thousand francs a month, and fifty thousand crowns in diamonds.' 'i have only a day or two to give her,' answered candide, 'because i have a rendezvous at venice.' in the evening after supper the insinuating perigordian redoubled his politeness and attentions." [23] p. 108. the play referred to is supposed to be "le comte d'essex," by thomas corneille. [24] p. 108. in france actors were at one time looked upon as excommunicated persons, not worthy of burial in holy ground or with christian rites. in 1730 the "honours of sepulture" were refused to mademoiselle lecouvreur (doubtless the miss monime of this passage). voltaire's miscellaneous works contain a paper on the matter. [25] p. 109. élie-catherine fréron was a french critic (1719-1776) who incurred the enmity of voltaire. in 1752 fréron, in _lettres sur quelques écrits du temps_, wrote pointedly of voltaire as one who chose to be all things to all men, and voltaire retaliated by references such as these in _candide_. [26] p. 111. gabriel gauchat (1709-1779), french ecclesiastical writer, was author of a number of works on religious subjects. [27] p. 112. nicholas charles joseph trublet (1697-1770) was a french writer whose criticism of voltaire was revenged in passages such as this one in _candide_, and one in the _pauvre diable_ beginning: l'abbé trublet avait alors le rage d'être à paris un petit personage. [28] p. 120. damiens, who attempted the life of louis xv. in 1757, was born at arras, capital of artois (atrébatie). [29] p. 120. on may 14, 1610, ravaillac assassinated henry vi. [30] p. 120. on december 27, 1594, jean châtel attempted to assassinate henry iv. [31] p. 122. this same curiously inept criticism of the war which cost france her american provinces occurs in voltaire's _memoirs_, wherein he says, "in 1756 england made a piratical war upon france for some acres of snow." see also his _précis du siècle de louis_ xv. [32] p. 123. admiral byng was shot on march 14, 1757. [33] p. 129. commenting upon this passage, m. sarcey says admirably: "all is there! in those ten lines voltaire has gathered all the griefs and all the terrors of these creatures; the picture is admirable for its truth and power! but do you not feel the pity and sympathy of the painter? here irony becomes sad, and in a way an avenger. voltaire cries out with horror against the society which throws some of its members into such an abyss. he has his 'bartholomew' fever; we tremble with him through contagion." [34] p. 142. the following particulars of the six monarchs may prove not uninteresting. achmet iii. (_b._ 1673, _d._ 1739) was dethroned in 1730. ivan vi. (_b._ 1740, _d._ 1762) was dethroned in 1741. charles edward stuart, the pretender (_b._ 1720, _d._ 1788). auguste iii. (_b._ 1696, _d._ 1763). stanislaus (_b._ 1682, _d._ 1766). theodore (_b._ 1690, _d._ 1755). it will be observed that, although quite impossible for the six kings ever to have met, five of them might have been made to do so without any anachronism. [35] p. 149. françois leopold ragotsky (1676-1735). * * * * * +------------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page xiv: chapter xiii heading in table of contents | | amended to match chapter heading on page 54. | | page 2: metaphysicotheo-logico-cosmolo-nigology | | amended to metaphysico-theologico-cosmolo-nigology. | | page 158: liebnitz amended to leibnitz. | | page 168: perserved amended to preserved. | | page 172: rougish amended to roguish; crows amended to | | crowns. | | | | where there is an equal number of instances of a word | | being hyphenated and unhyphenated, both versions | | of the word have been retained: dung-hill/dunghill; | | and new-comers/newcomers. | | | | a single footnote on page 90 has been moved | | to the endnotes, and the notes numbers re-indexed. a | | page reference was added to the moved footnote to | | match the format of other endnotes. | | | | modern library blurb: "mail complete list of titles" left | | as is. | | | | there are two instances of massa carara (pp. 43 and 45) | | and one instance of massa-carrara (page ix). as this | | latter is in the introduction, i.e. distinct from the book | | proper, it has been retained. | | | | the different spellings of cunégonde (which occurs only | | in the introduction) and robeck (which occurs in the | | notes [p. 170]; spelt robek in the text [p. 53]) have | | been retained for the same reason. | | | +------------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * 