Standing at the door of the arbor, Cacambo had observed all this. He came running to his master's side and told him that they must sell their lives dearly. He remained his calm self; after all, he had seen much violence before. Cacambo put the robe of the Jesuit baron on Candide, gave him the dead man's head gear, and had him mount one of the horses. As they dashed away, the clever servant cried out: "Make way, make way for the Reverend Father Colonel!"
The two rode safely beyond the barriers that had been erected for the defense of Paraguay. Cacambo had taken care to bring along provisions, and, after riding deep into the unknown country, the two dismounted. Beginning to eat some of the food, Cacambo urged his master to do likewise. But Candide exclaimed that he could not be expected to eat ham since he had just killed the son of the first baron and now knew that he would never see Cunégonde again. He was sure that remorse and despair were his lot for the rest of his days. And what, he asked, will the Journal de Trévoux say? (The reference is to the Jesuit publication that was founded in 1701.) But nevertheless he did eat.
Hearing some cries uttered by young women, the two jumped to their feet in alarm. The sound, they discovered, came from two naked girls who were pursued by monkeys that bit at them as they ran. Candide, moved by compassion, killed both animals with his double-barreled Spanish gun. God be praised, he said to Cacambo; this good deed would make up for the sin of killing an Inquisitor, a Jew, and the Jesuit baron. And perhaps this action would win them advantages in this strange country. But the girls did not rush forward to thank their rescuer; instead they wept and tenderly embraced the two dead monkeys. "I was not expecting such goodness of soul," said Candide, and then he was informed that he had killed the girls' lovers. He was incredulous, but once more Cacambo enlightened him: after all, monkeys were one-quarter men. Why should it be strange that in some countries the ladies became emotionally attached to monkeys? Then Candide recalled that Pangloss had told him of such unions, but he had believed that all he had been told belonged to the realm of fable. As Cacambo remarked, now he knew better.
The two next retired into the woods, where they ate and slept. They could not move when they awoke, for during the night the native Oreillons had bound them with ropes of bark. Fifty naked Oreillons, armed with arrows, stone clubs, and hatchets, surrounded them. Nearby other natives attended a great caldron of boiling water, while still others prepared spits. All shouted that they would be avenged by eating a Jesuit. Cacambo blamed the girls for their sad plight. Candide, looking at the caldron and spits, knew that they were about to be roasted or boiled, and he wondered what Doctor Pangloss would have said if he saw what the pure state of nature was like.
Cacambo, as we have seen, never lost his head. He consoled his master, saying that he knew a bit of the native's language and would talk with them. And so he did, most reasonably. He argued with the Oreillons that a Jesuit should be devoured, for national law taught us to kill our neighbors, and all people behave accordingly. But, he continued, the natives would not want to eat their friends. He then convinced them that they should verify the facts before deciding to treat him and Candide as enemies. And the facts were verified, whereupon Candide and his servant were treated most hospitably. At last the Oreillons conducted the two to the border of their country, shouting joyfully: "He's not a Jesuit!" Candide, wondering about this latest experience, decided that the pure state of nature must be good since his life had been spared once his captors learned that he was not a Jesuit.
