International Short Stories: French - Various
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26
THE COMBATS
The queen was received at Babylon with all those transports of joy which
are ever felt on the return of a beautiful princess who hath been involved
in calamities. Babylon was now in greater tranquillity. The Prince of
Hircania had been killed in battle. The victorious Babylonians declared
that the queen should marry the man whom they should choose for their
sovereign. They were resolved that the first place in the world, that of
being husband to Astarte and King of Babylon, should not depend on cabals
and intrigues. They swore to acknowledge for king the man who, upon trial,
should be found to be possessed of the greatest valor and the greatest
wisdom. Accordingly, at the distance of a few leagues from the city, a
spacious place was marked out for the list, surrounded with magnificent
amphitheaters. Thither the combatants were to repair in complete armor.
Each of them had a separate apartment behind the amphitheaters, where they
were neither to be seen nor known by anyone. Each was to encounter four
knights, and those that were so happy as to conquer four were then to
engage with one another; so that he who remained the last master of the
field would be proclaimed conqueror at the games.
Four days after he was to return with the same arms and to explain the
enigmas proposed by the magi. If he did not explain the enigmas he was not
king; and the running at the lances was to be begun afresh till a man
would be found who was conqueror in both these combats; for they were
absolutely determined to have a king possessed of the greatest wisdom and
the most invincible courage. The queen was all the while to be strictly
guarded: she was only allowed to be present at the games, and even there
she was to be covered with a veil; but was not permitted to speak to any
of the competitors, that so they might neither receive favor, nor suffer
injustice.
These particulars Astarte communicated to her lover, hoping that in order
to obtain her he would show himself possessed of greater courage and
wisdom than any other person. Zadig set out on his journey, beseeching
Venus to fortify his courage and enlighten his understanding. He arrived
on the banks of the Euphrates on the eve of this great day. He caused his
device to be inscribed among those of the combatants, concealing his face
and his name, as the law ordained; and then went to repose himself in the
apartment that fell to him by lot. His friend Cador, who, after the
fruitless search he had made for him in Egypt, was now returned to
Babylon, sent to his tent a complete suit of armor, which was a present
from the queen; as also, from himself, one of the finest horses in Persia.
Zadig presently perceived that these presents were sent by Astarte; and
from thence his courage derived fresh strength, and his love the most
animating hopes.
Next day, the queen being seated under a canopy of jewels, and the
amphitheaters filled with all the gentlemen and ladies of rank in Babylon,
the combatants appeared in the circus. Each of them came and laid his
device at the feet of the grand magi. They drew their devices by lot; and
that of Zadig was the last. The first who advanced was a certain lord,
named Itobad, very rich and very vain, but possessed of little courage, of
less address, and hardly of any judgment at all. His servants had
persuaded him that such a man as he ought to be king; he had said in
reply, "Such a man as I ought to reign"; and thus they had armed him
cap-a-pie. He wore an armor of gold enameled with green, a plume of green
feathers, and a lance adorned with green ribbons. It was instantly
perceived by the manner in which Itobad managed his horse, that it was not
for such a man as he that Heaven reserved the scepter of Babylon. The
first knight that ran against him threw him out of his saddle; the second
laid him flat on his horse's buttocks, with his legs in the air, and his
arms extended. Itobad recovered himself, but with so bad a grace that the
whole amphitheater burst out a-laughing. The third knight disdained to
make use of his lance; but, making a pass at him, took him by the right
leg and, wheeling him half round, laid him prostrate on the sand. The
squires of the game ran to him laughing, and replaced him in his saddle.
The fourth combatant took him by the left leg, and tumbled him down on the
other side. He was conducted back with scornful shouts to his tent, where,
according to the law, he was to pass the night; and as he climbed along
with great difficulty he said, "What an adventure for such a man as I!"
The other knights acquitted themselves with greater ability and success.
Some of them conquered two combatants; a few of them vanquished three; but
none but Prince Otamus conquered four. At last Zadig fought him in his
turn. He successively threw four knights off their saddles with all the
grace imaginable. It then remained to be seen who should be conqueror,
Otamus or Zadig. The arms of the first were gold and blue, with a plume of
the same color; those of the last were white. The wishes of all the
spectators were divided between the knight in blue and the knight in
white. The queen, whose heart was in a violent palpitation, offered
prayers to Heaven for the success of the white color.
The two champions made their passes and vaults with so much agility, they
mutually gave and received such dexterous blows with their lances, and sat
so firmly in their saddles, that everybody but the queen wished there
might be two kings in Babylon. At length, their horses being tired and
their lances broken, Zadig had recourse to this stratagem: He passes
behind the blue prince; springs upon the buttocks of his horse; seizes him
by the middle; throws him on the earth; places himself in the saddle; and
wheels around Otamus as he lay extended on the ground. All the
amphitheater cried out, "Victory to the white knight!"
Otamus rises in a violent passion, and draws his sword; Zadig leaps from
his horse with his saber in his hand. Both of them are now on the ground,
engaged in a new combat, where strength and agility triumph by turns. The
plumes of their helmets, the studs of their bracelets, the rings of their
armor, are driven to a great distance by the violence of a thousand
furious blows. They strike with the point and the edge; to the right, to
the left, on the head, on the breast; they retreat; they advance; they
measure swords; they close; they seize each other; they bend like
serpents; they attack like lions; and the fire every moment flashes from
their blows.
At last Zadig, having recovered his spirits, stops; makes a feint; leaps
upon Otamus; throws him on the ground and disarms him; and Otamus cries
out, "It is thou alone, O white knight, that oughtest to reign over
Babylon!" The queen was now at the height of her joy. The knight in blue
armor and the knight in white were conducted each to his own apartment, as
well as all the others, according to the intention of the law. Mutes came
to wait upon them and to serve them at table. It may be easily supposed
that the queen's little mute waited upon Zadig. They were then left to
themselves to enjoy the sweets of repose till next morning, at which time
the conqueror was to bring his device to the grand magi, to compare it
with that which he had left, and make himself known.
Zadig though deeply in love, was so much fatigued that he could not help
sleeping. Itobad, who lay near him, never closed his eyes. He arose in the
night, entered his apartment, took the white arms and the device of Zadig,
and put his green armor in their place. At break of day he went boldly to
the grand magi to declare that so great a man as he was conqueror. This
was little expected; however, he was proclaimed while Zadig was still
asleep. Astarte, surprised and filled with despair, returned to Babylon.
The amphitheater was almost empty when Zadig awoke; he sought for his
arms, but could find none but the green armor. With this he was obliged to
cover himself, having nothing else near him. Astonished and enraged, he
put it on in a furious passion, and advanced in this equipage.
The people that still remained in the amphitheater and the circus received
him with hoots and hisses. They surrounded him and insulted him to his
face. Never did man suffer such cruel mortifications. He lost his
patience; with his saber he dispersed such of the populace as dared to
affront him; but he knew not what course to take. He could not see the
queen; he could not claim the white armor she had sent him without
exposing her; and thus, while she was plunged in grief, he was filled with
fury and distraction. He walked on the banks of the Euphrates, fully
persuaded that his star had destined him to inevitable misery, and
resolving in his own mind all his misfortunes, from the adventure of the
woman who hated one-eyed men to that of his armor. "This," said he, "is
the consequence of my having slept too long. Had I slept less, I should
now have been King of Babylon and in possession of Astarte. Knowledge,
virtue, and courage have hitherto served only to make me miserable." He
then let fall some secret murmurings against Providence, and was tempted
to believe that the world was governed by a cruel destiny, which oppressed
the good and prospered knights in green armor. One of his greatest
mortifications was his being obliged to wear that green armor which had
exposed him to such contumelious treatment. A merchant happening to pass
by, he sold it to him for a trifle and bought a gown and a long bonnet. In
this garb he proceeded along the banks of the Euphrates, filled with
despair, and secretly accusing Providence, which thus continued to
persecute him with unremitting severity.
THE HERMIT
While he was thus sauntering he met a hermit, whose white and venerable
beard hung down to his girdle. He held a book in his hand, which he read
with great attention. Zadig stopped, and made him a profound obeisance.
The hermit returned the compliment with such a noble and engaging air,
that Zadig had the curiosity to enter into conversation with him. He asked
him what book it was that he had been reading? "It is the Book of
Destinies," said the hermit; "wouldst thou choose to look into it?" He put
the book into the hands of Zadig, who, thoroughly versed as he was in
several languages, could not decipher a single character of it. This only
redoubled his curiosity.
"Thou seemest," said this good father, "to be in great distress."
"Alas," replied Zadig, "I have but too much reason."
"If thou wilt permit me to accompany thee," resumed the old man, "perhaps
I may be of some service to thee. I have often poured the balm of
consolation into the bleeding heart of the unhappy."
Zadig felt himself inspired with respect for the air, the beard, and the
book of the hermit. He found, in the course of the conversation, that he
was possessed of superior degrees of knowledge. The hermit talked of fate,
of justice, of morals, of the chief good, of human weakness, and of virtue
and vice, with such a spirited and moving eloquence, that Zadig felt
himself drawn toward him by an irresistible charm. He earnestly entreated
the favor of his company till their return to Babylon.
"I ask the same favor of thee," said the old man; "swear to me by
Oromazes, that whatever I do, thou wilt not leave me for some days." Zadig
swore, and they set out together.
In the evening the two travelers arrived in a superb castle. The hermit
entreated a hospitable reception for himself and the young man who
accompanied him. The porter, whom one might have easily mistaken for a
great lord, introduced them with a kind of disdainful civility. He
presented them to a principal domestic, who showed them his master's
magnificent apartments. They were admitted to the lower end of the table,
without being honored with the least mark of regard by the lord of the
castle; but they were served, like the rest, with delicacy and profusion.
They were then presented with water to wash their hands, in a golden basin
adorned with emeralds and rubies. At last they were conducted to bed in a
beautiful apartment; and in the morning a domestic brought each of them a
piece of gold, after which they took their leave and departed.
"The master of the house," said Zadig, as they were proceeding on the
journey, "appears to be a generous man, though somewhat too proud; he
nobly performs the duties of hospitality." At that instant he observed
that a kind of large pocket, which the hermit had, was filled and
distended; and upon looking more narrowly he found that it contained the
golden basin adorned with precious stones, which the hermit had stolen. He
durst not take any notice of it, but he was filled with a strange
surprise.
About noon, the hermit came to the door of a paltry house inhabited by a
rich miser, and begged the favor of an hospitable reception for a few
hours. An old servant, in a tattered garb, received them with a blunt and
rude air, and led them into the stable, where he gave them some rotten
olives, moldy bread, and sour beer. The hermit ate and drank with as much
seeming satisfaction as he had done the evening before; and then
addressing himself to the old servant, who watched them both, to prevent
their stealing anything, and rudely pressed them to depart, he gave him
the two pieces of gold he had received in the morning, and thanked him for
his great civility.
"Pray," added he, "allow me to speak to thy master." The servant, filled
with astonishment, introduced the two travelers. "Magnificent lord," said
the hermit, "I cannot but return thee my most humble thanks for the noble
manner in which thou hast entertained us. Be pleased to accept this golden
basin as a small mark of my gratitude." The miser started, and was ready
to fall backward; but the hermit, without giving him time to recover from
his surprise, instantly departed with his young fellow traveler.
"Father," said Zadig, "what is the meaning of all this? Thou seemest to me
to be entirely different from other men; thou stealest a golden basin
adorned with precious stones from a lord who received thee magnificently,
and givest it to a miser who treats thee with indignity."
"Son," replied the old man, "this magnificent lord, who receives strangers
only from vanity and ostentation, will hereby be rendered more wise; and
the miser will learn to practice the duties of hospitality. Be surprised
at nothing, but follow me."
Zadig knew not as yet whether he was in company with the most foolish or
the most prudent of mankind; but the hermit spoke with such an ascendancy,
that Zadig, who was moreover bound by his oath, could not refuse to follow
him.
In the evening they arrived at a house built with equal elegance and
simplicity, where nothing savored either of prodigality or avarice. The
master of it was a philosopher, who had retired from the world, and who
cultivated in peace the study of virtue and wisdom, without any of that
rigid and morose severity so commonly to be found in men of his character.
He had chosen to build this country house, in which he received strangers
with a generosity free from ostentation. He went himself to meet the two
travelers, whom he led into a commodious apartment, where he desired them
to repose themselves a little. Soon after he came and invited them to a
decent and well-ordered repast during which he spoke with great judgment
of the last revolutions in Babylon. He seemed to be strongly attached to
the queen, and wished that Zadig had appeared in the lists to dispute the
crown. "But the people," added he, "do not deserve to have such a king as
Zadig."
Zadig blushed, and felt his griefs redoubled. They agreed, in the course
of the conversation, that the things of this world did not always answer
the wishes of the wise. The hermit still maintained that the ways of
Providence were inscrutable; and that men were in the wrong to judge of a
whole, of which they understood but the smallest part.
They talked of passions. "Ah," said Zadig, "how fatal are their effects!"
"They are in the winds," replied the hermit, "that swell the sails of the
ship; it is true, they sometimes sink her, but without them she could not
sail at all. The bile makes us sick and choleric; but without bile we
could not live. Everything in this world is dangerous, and yet everything
is necessary."
The conversation turned on pleasure; and the hermit proved that it was a
present bestowed by the Deity. "For," said he, "man cannot give himself
either sensations or ideas; he receives all; and pain and pleasure proceed
from a foreign cause as well as his being."
Zadig was surprised to see a man, who had been guilty of such extravagant
actions, capable of reasoning with so much judgment and propriety. At
last, after a conversation equally entertaining and instructive, the host
led back his two guests to their apartment, blessing Heaven for having
sent him two men possessed of so much wisdom and virtue. He offered them
money with such an easy and noble air as could not possibly give any
offense. The hermit refused it, and said that he must now take his leave
of him, as he set out for Babylon before it was light. Their parting Was
tender; Zadig especially felt himself filled with esteem and affection for
a man of such an amiable character.
When he and the hermit were alone in their apartment, they spent a long
time praising their host. At break of day the old man awakened his
companion. "We must now depart," said he, "but while all the family are
still asleep, I will leave this man a mark of my esteem and affection." So
saying, he took a candle and set fire to the house.
Zadig, struck with horror, cried aloud, and endeavored to hinder him from
committing such a barbarous action; but the hermit drew him away by a
superior force, and the house was soon in flames. The hermit, who, with
his companion, was already at a considerable distance, looked back to the
conflagration with great tranquillity.
"Thanks be to God," said he, "the house of my dear host is entirely
destroyed! Happy man!"
At these words Zadig was at once tempted to burst out a-laughing, to
reproach the reverend father, to beat him, and to run away. But he did
none of all of these, for still subdued by the powerful ascendancy of the
hermit, he followed him, in spite of himself, to the next stage.
This was at the house of a charitable and virtuous widow, who had a nephew
fourteen years of age, a handsome and promising youth, and her only hope.
She performed the honors of her house as well as she could. Next day, she
ordered her nephew to accompany the strangers to a bridge, which being
lately broken down, was become extremely dangerous in passing. The young
man walked before them with great alacrity. As they were crossing the
bridge, "Come" said the hermit to the youth, "I must show my gratitude to
thy aunt." He then took him by the hair and plunged him into the river.
The boy sunk, appeared again on the surface of the water, and was
swallowed up by the current.
"O monster! O thou most wicked of mankind!" cried Zadig.
"Thou promisedst to behave with greater patience," said the hermit,
interrupting him. "Know that under the ruins of that house which
Providence hath set on fire the master hath found an immense treasure.
Know that this young, man, whose life Providence hath shortened, would
have assassinated his aunt in the space of a year, and thee in that of
two."
"Who told thee so, barbarian?" cried Zadig; "and though thou hadst read
this event in thy Book of Destinies, art thou permitted to drown a youth
who never did thee any harm?"
While the Babylonian was thus exclaiming, he observed that the old man had
no longer a beard, and that his countenance assumed the features and
complexion of youth. The hermit's habit disappeared, and four beautiful
wings covered a majestic body resplendent with light.
"O sent of heaven! O divine angel!" cried Zadig, humbly prostrating
himself on the ground, "hast thou then descended from the Empyrean to
teach a weak mortal to submit to the eternal decrees of Providence?"
"Men," said the angel Jesrad, "judge of all without knowing anything; and,
of all men, thou best deservest to be enlightened."
Zadig begged to be permitted to speak. "I distrust myself," said he, "but
may I presume to ask the favor of thee to clear up one doubt that still
remains in my mind? Would it not have been better to have corrected this
youth, and made him virtuous, than to have drowned him?"
"Had he been virtuous," replied Jesrad, "and enjoyed a longer life, it
would have been his fate to be assassinated himself, together with the
wife he would have married, and the child he would have had by her."
"But why," said Zadig, "is it necessary that there should be crimes and
misfortunes, and that these misfortunes should fall on the good?"
"The wicked," replied Jesrad, "are always unhappy; they serve to prove and
try the small number of the just that are scattered through the earth; and
there is no evil that is not productive of some good."
"But," said Zadig, "suppose there were nothing but good and no evil at
all."
"Then," replied Jesrad, "this earth would be another earth. The chain of
events would be ranged in another order and directed by wisdom; but this
other order, which would be perfect, can exist only in the eternal abode
of the Supreme Being, to which no evil can approach. The Deity hath
created millions of worlds among which there is not one that resembles
another. This immense variety is the effect of His immense power. There
are not two leaves among the trees of the earth, nor two globes in the
unlimited expanse of heaven that are exactly similar; and all that thou
seest on the little atom in which thou art born, ought to be in its proper
time and place, according to the immutable decree of Him who comprehends
all. Men think that this child who hath just perished is fallen into the
water by chance; and that it is by the same chance that this house is
burned; but there is no such thing as chance; all is either a trial, or a
punishment, or a reward, or a foresight. Remember the fisherman who
thought himself the most wretched of mankind. Oromazes sent thee to change
his fate. Cease, then, frail mortal, to dispute against what thou oughtest
to adore."
"But," said Zadig--as he pronounced the word "But," the angel took his
flight toward the tenth sphere. Zadig on his knees adored Providence, and
submitted. The angel cried to him from on high, "Direct thy course toward
Babylon."
THE ENIGMAS
Zadig, entranced, as it were, and like a man about whose head the thunder
had burst, walked at random. He entered Babylon on the very day when those
who had fought at the tournaments were assembled in the grand vestibule of
the palace to explain the enigmas and to answer the questions of the grand
magi. All the knights were already arrived, except the knight in green
armor. As soon as Zadig appeared in the city the people crowded round him;
every eye was fixed on him; every mouth blessed him, and every heart
wished him the empire. The envious man saw him pass; he frowned and turned
aside. The people conducted him to the place where the assembly was held.
The queen, who was informed of his arrival, became a prey to the most
violent agitations of hope and fear. She was filled with anxiety and
apprehension. She could not comprehend why Zadig was without arms, nor why
Itobad wore the white armor. A confused murmur arose at the sight of
Zadig. They were equally surprised and charmed to see him; but none but
the knights who had fought were permitted to appear in the assembly.
"I have fought as well as the other knights," said Zadig, "but another
here wears my arms; and while I wait for the honor of proving the truth of
my assertion, I demand the liberty of presenting myself to explain the
enigmas." The question was put to the vote, and his reputation for probity
was still so deeply impressed in their minds, that they admitted him
without scruple.
The first question proposed by the grand magi was: "What, of all things in
the world, is the longest and the shortest, the swiftest and the slowest,
the most divisible and the most extended the most neglected and the most
regretted, without which nothing can be done, which devours all that is
little, and enlivens all that is great?"
Itobad was to speak. He replied that so great a man as he did not
understand enigmas, and that it was sufficient for him to have conquered
by his strength and valor. Some said that the meaning of the enigma was
Fortune; some, the Earth; and others the Light. Zadig said that it was
Time. "Nothing," added he, "is longer, since it is the measure of
eternity; nothing is shorter, since it is insufficient for the
accomplishment of our projects; nothing more slow to him that expects,
nothing more rapid to him that enjoys; in greatness, it extends to
infinity; in smallness, it is infinitely divisible; all men neglect it;
all regret the loss of it; nothing can be done without it; it consigns to
oblivion whatever is unworthy of being transmitted to posterity, and it
immortalizes such actions as are truly great." The assembly acknowledged
that Zadig was in the right.