They then went on to the great dervish, who is the greatest prophet of the Turks; he explained to them the questions of Zaire and Osman. "Master," said Pangloss, "come to the aid of the best of worlds." "What does it matter," said the dervish, "whether there is evil or good? When His Highness sends a ship to Egypt, does he trouble himself whether the mice aboard are comfortable or not?" "What can this mean?" said Pangloss. "Be silent," said the dervish. "I would be tempted," said Pangloss, "to tell them that there is a chain of all events for the best of all possible worlds; for after all, if you had not been driven from a fine castle by great kicks in the rear for the love of Miss Cunegonde, if you had not been excommunicated and made to run the gauntlet of the Inquisition, if you had not traveled through America in good faith, if you had not killed the Baron with those great blows of the sword, if you had not lost all your sheep from the good land of Eldorado, you would not be eating here candied citrons and pistachios." "All that is well said," replied Candide, "but we must cultivate our garden." "Be silent," said the inquisitor; "you talk too much." Then Pangloss said: "The world was made to reach its end." "That may be," said the dervish, "but there is no need to say so." "Do you think," said Pangloss, "that men have always given themselves preachers and valets, and have always been mad?" "Look," said the dervish, "at that fool Diogenes, who walked about in broad daylight with a lantern, crying: I am looking for a man! If he had found one, what would he have done with him?" "I should dearly like," said Pangloss, "to know what a man in every way perfect is like." Candide, without saying a word, raised his hands to heaven; he saw that the dervish did not share his view. They went back to Candide's house... but above all, we must cultivate our garden.

Returning to his house, Candide passed a good old man sitting at his door, on the threshold, in the sun; and asking him to tell him which sect was the best, the worthy old man said: "Be silent, my son; I do not know what your sect is; but I believe that what is, is well." "What, sir," said Candide, "is that well? It cannot be." They drank; the old woman said: "Do you greatly love the dervishes?" "No," said Candide, "I do not love them at all; I find that they say foolish things every day; and elsewhere I do not find in the world the one thing that is necessary." They drank again, and returned home.

This honest old man seemed never to have tasted the blandishments of life; he said nothing about the events of which he had been witness, and he had kept silence for some time; at last he said to Candide: "I have only twenty acres; we cultivate them; my children work upon them; work keeps from us three great evils: boredom, vice, and need." Candide, on returning to his farm, reflected deeply upon the old man's words; and he said nothing to Pangloss, to Martin, and to the faithful Cunegonde.

They drank, and they ate; business resumed. Pangloss confessed that his doctrine was very perplexing; but Candide had withdrawn into a course of meditations and reflections. The next day, Candide and Pangloss went out into the neighborhood; they saw dogs, cats, thrushes; the beasts, the men, all was well; the old dervish passed by in a chain; Pangloss recounted his misfortunes and his disasters.

Pangloss sometimes said to Candide: "All events are linked together in the best of all possible worlds; for after all, if you had not been driven from a fine castle by great kicks in the rear for the love of Miss Cunegonde, if you had not been excommunicated and made to run the gauntlet of the Inquisition, if you had not traveled through America in good faith, if you had not killed the Baron with those great blows of the sword, if you had not lost all your sheep from the good land of Eldorado, you would not be eating here candied citrons and pistachios." "That is well said," replied Candide, "but we must cultivate our garden." "You are right," said Pangloss; "for when man was placed in the garden of Eden, he was placed there ut operaretur eum, that he might work; the fact is proved." "Let us work without reasoning," said Martin; "it is the only way to make life bearable.

The whole little society entered into this laudable design; each set to work according to his talents. The small plot of land yielded much. Cunegonde was, in truth, very ugly; but she became an excellent pastrycook; Paquette embroidered; the old woman took care of the linen. Even Brother Giroflée was useful: he became a very good carpenter, and became an honest man. Pangloss sometimes said to Candide: "All events form a link in the best of all possible worlds." "That is well said," replied Candide, "but we must cultivate our garden.