There had been a great dispute in Babylon which had lasted for 1,500 years and had divided the empire into two rival sects. One held that you must never enter the temple of Mithras except on the left foot; the other held this practice in abomination and never entered except on the right. Everyone waited for the solemn festival of the sacred fire, to see which sect Zadig belonged to. The world had its eyes fixed on his two feet, and the whole town waited in great suspense. Zadig leapt into the temple, both feet together, and he proceeded to prove in an eloquent sermon that the God of Heaven and Earth has no favourites and cares no more for the left leg than the right. Green Eyes and his wife maintained that his sermon was weak in figures of speech, that he had not made the mountains and the little hills dance enough. ‘His manner is dry and unimaginative,’ they said. ‘With him you cannot see the ocean put to flight, the stars fall, or the sun melt like wax. He does not command a good Oriental style.’ Zadig was content with a style based on good sense. Everyone was on his side; not because he was getting on well, nor because he was a sensible and likable man, but because he was Grand Vizier.
He was equally successful in bringing to an end the great dispute between the White and the Black Mages. The White Mages maintained that it was irreverent at times of prayer to turn towards the east in winter. The Black Mages were confident that God detested the prayers of those who turned towards the setting sun in summer. Zadig decided that a man could turn which way he pleased.
He discovered the secret of transacting his public and private business in the morning, and thus he was able to devote the rest of the day to the cultural improvement of Babylon. He had tragedies produced which excited tears, and comedies which provoked laughter. They had long been out of date; but he revived them because he had good taste. He did not pretend to know better than the actors, but rewarded them with favours and distinctions, and cherished no secret jealousy of their talents. In the evenings he entertained the King and Queen – the Queen particularly. The King used to exclaim, ‘What a fine statesman he is!’; the Queen would murmur, ‘Isn’t he charming!’; and both would add, ‘It would have been a great pity if he had been hanged!’
Never had a statesman been obliged to give so many audiences to the ladies. Most of them came to talk to him about non-existent affairs, so as to have one with him. Madam Green Eyes was one of the first to seek an audience. She swore by Mithras, Vesta, and the sacred flame that she loathed her husband’s conduct, and she then revealed how jealous and brutal he was. She even gave him to understand that the Gods had punished Green Eyes by refusing him the precious consequences of that vestal flame by which alone man can make himself one of the immortals. As she finished speaking, she dropped her garter. Zadig picked it up with his customary politeness, but he did not replace it above the lady’s knee; and this little mistake, if it can be called a mistake, was the cause of terrible misfortunes. Zadig never gave it a thought, but Madam Green Eyes pondered it deeply.
Other ladies sought audience every day. The secret annals of Babylon claim that he once succumbed, but that he was surprised to find that he enjoyed his mistress without pleasure, and embraced her absentmindedly. The lady on whom he almost unwittingly bestowed his favour was one of Queen Astarte’s maids of honour. The poor little thing consoled herself by reflecting that the great man must be deeply engrossed with affairs of state to brood upon them even when making love. At a moment when most people say nothing and others only murmur a few sacred words, Zadig blurted out, ‘The Queen.’ His partner fancied that the pleasures of the moment had at last brought him to his senses, and that what he had said to her was: ‘My Queen.’ But Zadig, still absentminded, uttered the name Astarte. The lady construed everything to her own advantage at this blissful juncture, and supposed that what he meant was: ‘You are more beautiful than Queen Astarte.’ She left Zadig’s seraglio loaded with beautiful gifts, and went to recount her adventures to Madam Green Eyes, who was her close friend. That lady was deeply offended at Zadig’s preference: ‘He did not even replace this garter for me. I won’t use it any more.’
‘Oh, look!’ said the more fortunate lady. ‘You have the same garters as the Queen! You must go to the same maker, then?’
This set Madam Green Eyes thinking. She made no reply, and went off to talk with her husband.
In the meanwhile Zadig found that his attention used to wander when he gave audiences, and in the seat of justice. He did not know how to account for it; that was his only trouble. He had a dream in which he seemed to be lying on a bed of dry grass, some of which pricked him and made him uncomfortable; then he was lying softly on a bed of roses, from which a serpent issued and stung him to the heart with its sharp and venomous fang.
‘Yes,’ said he to himself, ‘for long enough my bed was dry and prickly, and now it is as soft as roses. But what will the serpent turn out to be?’
CHAPTER 8
JEALOUSY
ZADIG’s misfortunes arose partly from his good fortune, but even more from his attainments. Every day he had an audience with the King and with Astarte his peerless consort. The charm of his conversation was increased by an ambition to please, which is to wit what ornament is to beauty. His youth and natural charm gradually made an impression upon Astarte, which at first she did not recognize. Passion flourished in her innocent breast; she gave herself up without reflexion and without fear to the pleasure of seeing and listening to a man favoured by her husband as well as by the state. She was never tired of commending him to the King; and she talked about him to her ladies, who were even more extravagant in their praises. All this served to bury within her heart the arrow she did not feel. The presents she gave to Zadig smacked of flirtation more than she was aware. She fancied that she spoke to him only as a Queen grateful for his services, but sometimes her expression was that of a woman in love.
Astarte was much more beautiful than that Semira who had so strongly disliked one-eyed men, or the other woman who had wanted to cut off her husband’s nose. The intimacy which Astarte permitted, the tender words which raised a blush in her cheeks, the glances which she vainly tried to avert from his – all this kindled in Zadig’s heart a flame which surprised him. He fought against it. He summoned to his aid the philosophy which had always helped him. But philosophy could only shed light; it could not provide relief. Duty, Gratitude, Offended Majesty, all appeared in his eyes like Avenging Furies. He continued to struggle, and he triumphed; but the victory which he had to maintain unceasingly cost him some groans and tears. He no longer dared to address the Queen with that gentle freedom which held such charms for both of them. His eyes no longer sparkled; his speech was constrained and disjointed, and his gaze was fixed upon the ground. But sometimes he could not help stealing a glance at Astarte, and found that her eyes, though wet with tears, still sparkled with affection. They seemed to say: ‘We adore each other, and are afraid of our love; we are the slaves of a passion of which we disapprove.’
Zadig left the Queen’s presence with a mind bewildered and distracted, and a heart weighed down by a burden he could no longer bear. Swept by the force of these emotions, he betrayed his secret to his friend Cador, as a man might do who has long suffered attacks of pain and at last reveals his suffering by crying out at some excruciating spasm, and by the cold sweat pouring from his forehead.
Cador said to him: ‘I have already discerned those feelings which you would like to hide even from yourself, for the passions show signs which cannot be misinterpreted. Consider, my dear Zadig; if I can read your heart, will not the King read it also and discover feelings which are sure to offend him? He has only one fault; but that is that he’s the most jealous man alive. You control your passion with more strength than the Queen can muster against hers, because you are a philosopher, and because you are Zadig. Astarte is a woman; she lets her eyes speak all the more imprudently, in that she is as yet unaware of guilt. She is convinced of her own innocence, and unfortunately she does not preserve appearances. I shall tremble for her as long
as she has nothing to reproach herself with. If you were both agreed, you could deceive us all. A newborn passion will manifest itself, especially if it is resisted; but love which is satisfied knows how to conceal itself.’
Zadig shuddered at the notion of betraying the King his benefactor; and never was he more faithful to his prince than when guilty of an involuntary crime. But the Queen so often uttered the name of Zadig, and blushed so profusely as she did so; she was alternately so animated and so confused when speaking to him in the King’s presence; she became so deeply engrossed in thought when he retired, that the King was disturbed. He believed all he saw; and what he did not see he imagined. He noticed in particular that his wife’s slippers were blue, and that Zadig’s slippers were blue; he also noticed that his wife’s ribbons were yellow, and that Zadig’s cap was yellow also. Terrible indications, these, for a touchy prince. Suspicion changed to certainty in his embittered mind.
As every slave in a royal household is also engaged in spying upon the hearts of his master and mistress, it was soon recognized that Astarte was in love, and that Moabdar was jealous. Green Eyes persuaded Madam Green Eyes to send the King that garter of hers which looked like the Queen’s. To make matters worse the garter was blue. The Monarch’s only thought was of revenge. One night he decided to poison the Queen, and to have Zadig strangled, at day-break. The order was given to a pitiless eunuch, always employed to execute the King’s vengeance.
In the King’s chamber there was a little dwarf, who was dumb but not deaf. Everyone tolerated him, and he was a witness of the most secret proceedings, as though he were a domestic animal. This little dumb creature was very fond of the Queen and of Zadig. His horror was as great as his surprise when he heard the order given for their death. But what could he do to prevent this terrible order, which was to be put into effect within a few hours? He did not know how to write; but he had learned to paint, and he was especially good at catching a likeness. He spent part of the night drawing what he wanted the Queen to understand. His sketch showed the King transfigured with rage in one corner of the picture, giving orders to his eunuch; a blue rope and a jug stood on a table, with blue garters and yellow ribbons; in the middle of the picture the Queen was dying in the arms of her women, and Zadig lay strangled at her feet. The horizon showed the sun rising, to indicate that this horrible execution was due to take place at dawn. As soon as he had finished he ran to the apartment of Astarte’s waiting-woman, woke her up, and made her understand that this picture was to be taken to the Queen that very instant.
In the middle of the night there was a knock at Zadig’s door. He was awakened and given a note from the Queen. Zadig opened the letter with trembling hands, wondering whether he was dreaming. It is impossible to express his surprise, his consternation, the utter despair which overcame him, on reading these words:
Fly this instant, or you will lose your life. Fly, Zadig, I command you, in the name of our love and of my yellow ribbons. I am quite innocent, but I fear that I shall die the death of a criminal.
Zadig had scarcely strength enough to speak. He sent for Cador, and without saying a word handed him the Queen’s note. Cador urged him to obey its instructions and to set out immediately for Memphis.
‘If you dare to go and find the Queen,’ said he, ‘you will hasten her death. If you speak to the King, you will certainly lose her. I will take charge of her destiny : follow your own. I will spread the rumour that you have set out for India. I shall soon come and find you, and tell you what has happened in Babylon.’
At the same time, Cador ordered two of the swiftest dromedaries to be brought to a secret door of the palace. He placed Zadig in the saddle; indeed he had had to carry him, for he was almost ready to expire. One servant accompanied him, and he was soon lost to his friend’s sight. Cador then retraced his steps, overcome with astonishment and grief.
When he reached the brow of a hill from which Babylon could be seen, the illustrious fugitive turned his eyes towards the Queen’s palace, and fainted. He came to his senses only to shed tears and to wish for death. At last, after brooding upon the pitiful fate of the most amiable of women and the most eminent of Queens, he began to reflect upon his own condition, and exclaimed :
‘What then is human life? And of what use has virtue been to me? Two women have basely deceived me. The third, who is innocent, and more beautiful than either, is about to die. All the good I have done has brought curses upon me, and I have been raised to the summit of grandeur only to fall into the most horrible pit of misfortune. If I had been wicked, as so many others are, I should have been happy like them.’
Overwhelmed by these melancholy reflexions, his eyes clouded with grief, the pallor of death upon his face, his spirit dejected by sombre despair, he resumed his journey towards Egypt.
CHAPTER 9
THE BEATEN WOMAN
ZADIG took his course by the stars. The constellation of Orion and the brilliance of Sirius directed his steps towards Canopus. He was lost in admiration for these vast spheres of light, which look to our eyes like feeble sparks only because the Earth, which is in reality a mere imperceptible point in the Universe, appears to our greedy outlook something noble and grand. Then he pictured to himself men as they really are, insects devouring one another on a tiny fragment of mud. The truth of this conception seemed to annihilate his misfortunes as he recalled to mind the utter nothingness of his own being and of Babylon too. His spirit soared into space; and with the grossness of the senses left behind, he meditated upon the unchangeable laws of the heavenly universe. But when he returned to himself a moment later, and looked into his heart, and thought that Astarte had perhaps perished for his sake, the Universe disappeared from his view, and all he saw in the whole range of Nature was Astarte dying and his ill-fated self.
While surrendering himself alternately to sublime philosophy and overwhelming grief, he drew near to the frontiers of Egypt; his faithful servant had already reached the first settlement, and was looking for lodgings there. Meanwhile Zadig took a walk towards the gardens at the edge of the village. Not far from the road he saw a woman in tears, crying aloud to Heaven and Earth for help, and pursued by a man in a violent temper. She had just been overtaken by the man, and had thrown herself at his feet, with her arms round his knees; but the fellow loaded her with blows and re proaches. Judging by the Egyptian’s violence and by the lady’s repeated appeals for pardon, Zadig took the one to be jealous and the other unfaithful; but when he regarded the lady, who was strikingly beautiful and even bore some resemblance to the unfortunate Astarte, he felt moved by compassion for her, and was horrified at the Egyptian.
‘Help me,’ she cried to Zadig amidst her sobs. ‘Deliver me from the hands of the most barbarous of men, and save my life!’
At this appeal he ran and threw himself between her and the cruel wretch. He had some knowledge of the Egyptian tongue; and addressing him in that language, he said:
‘If you have any humanity, I conjure you to be merciful to weakness and beauty. How could you treat this masterpiece of nature so cruelly! She is at your feet, and she has no defence but her tears!’
‘Oho!’ said the fellow, in a transport of rage. ‘So you are sweet upon her too! I’ll have my revenge on you, then.’
With those words; he let go the lady, whom he was holding by the hair, and tried to stab the stranger with his lance. Zadig, whose temper was cool, had no difficulty in avoiding an angry man’s attack, and seized the lance by its iron tip. While the one tried to snatch it away and the other tried to get possession of it, the lance broke in their hands. At that, the Egyptian drew his sword; Zadig did likewise, and they fell upon each other. The former dealt a hundred violent blows, which the latter skilfully parried. Meanwhile the lady sat down on the grass, tidied her hair, and watched them. The Egyptian was more robust than his adversary, but Zadig was more adroit. He fought skilfully, his brain guiding his arm, while the other fought like a maniac whose blind rage directs his movements at random. Zad
ig made a pass at him, and disarmed him. This made the Egyptian more furious; but while trying to fling himself upon his opponent, he was seized by Zadig, who pressed home the attack and brought him to the ground. Then, with a sword at the Egyptian’s breast, Zadig offered him his life. The Egyptian was beside himself with rage; drawing his dagger, he wounded Zadig with it at the moment when his victor was offering him mercy. Roused to indignation, Zadig plunged his sword into the man’s breast, and the Egyptian, uttering a horrible cry, fell back and died. Zadig then approached the lady, and gently said to her:
‘He forced me to kill him. I have avenged you, and you are delivered from the most violent man I ever saw. What would you have of me now, madam?’
‘Your death, you villain!’ she replied, ‘your death! You have slain my lover. I could tear your heart out!’
‘Indeed, madam,’ replied Zadig, ‘that’s a strange man to have for a lover. He was beating you as hard as he could, and he wanted to take my life because you begged me to come to your help.’
‘I wish he were still alive to beat me,’ cried the lady. ‘I deserved it, for I had given him cause to be jealous. Would to God he were beating me, and you were in his place!’
Zadig was more surprised and angry than he had ever been in his life. ‘Madam,’ said he, ‘beautiful as you are, it would serve you right if I were to beat you now myself, since you talk so absurdly. But I shall not give myself the trouble.’
Thereupon he remounted his camel and set off for the town. He had not gone far before he turned round on hearing the noise of four horsemen, couriers from Babylon, who were riding at full speed. One of them noticed the woman, and cried, ‘That’s her. She is just like the description we’ve been given.’ They took no heed of the dead man, and unceremoniously laid hold of the lady, whereupon she kept calling to Zadig: ‘Help me once more, generous stranger! Forgive me for reproaching you. Help me, and I am yours till death.’