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‘That is well said,’ replied Candide, ‘but we must cultivate our garden.’

The next moment a pirate ship from Salé swept down and boarded us. Our men defended themselves as the Pope’s soldiers usually do: they all fell to their knees, threw down their weapons, and begged the pirates to absolve them of their sins in articulo mortis. They were promptly stripped naked as monkeys, as were my mother, and our maids of honour, and I myself.

‘There goes another one,’ said Cunégunde. ‘There will be no pardon now; we are excommunicate, our final hour is at hand. What on earth has got into you, who were born so gentle, to do away with a Jew and a prelate in the space of two minutes?’ – ‘My dear young lady,’ replied Candide, ‘when you are in love, and jealous, and have been flogged by the Inquisition, there’s no knowing what you may do.’