themselves with their own venom; a pamphlet-monger.”

“A pamphlet-manger!” said Candide, “what is that?”

“Why, a pamphlet-manger,” replied the abbe, “is a writer of pamphlets-a fool.”

Candide, Martin, and the abbe of Perigord argued thus on the staircase, while they stood to see the people go out of the playhouse.

“Though I am very anxious to see Miss Cunegund again,” said Candide, “yet I have a great inclination to sup with Miss Clairon, for I am really much taken with her.”

The abbe was not a person to show his face at this lady's house, which was frequented by none but the best company.