"Chut then,—I asked only for the hero. It is Candide who shall tell us who is the dragon."
Every one looked at Candide, who, for her part, looked at the ceiling, as if seeking inspiration there.
"The dragon is—is—
"Come then, my child, thou knowest."
"Is he not a dragon, then?" said Candide, opening eyes as blue as the sky, and quite as devoid of intelligence.
"Little stupid one,—and the times I have told thee! What is it, then, that the glorious Revolution has destroyed?"
She paused, and half a dozen arms went up eagerly, whilst as many voices clamoured:
"I know!"—"No, ask me!"—"No, me, Citoyenne!"—"No, me!"—"Me!"
"What! Jeanne knows? Little Jeanne Marie, who cried? She shall say. Tell us, then, my child,—who is the dragon?"
Jeanne looked wonderfully serious.