Zadig's calamities sprung even from his happiness and especially from his
merit. He every day conversed with the king and Astarte, his august
comfort. The charms of his conversation were greatly heightened by that
desire of pleasing, which is to the mind what dress is to beauty. His
youth and graceful appearance insensibly made an impression on Astarte,
which she did not at first perceive. Her passion grew and flourished in
the bosom of innocence. Without fear or scruple, she indulged the pleasing
satisfaction of seeing and hearing a man who was so dear to her husband
and to the empire in general. She was continually praising him to the
king. She talked of him to her women, who were always sure to improve on
her praises. And thus everything contributed to pierce her heart with a
dart, of which she did not seem to be sensible. She made several presents
to Zadig, which discovered a greater spirit of gallantry than she
imagined. She intended to speak to him only as a queen satisfied with his
services and her expressions were sometimes those of a woman in love.
Astarte was much more beautiful than that Semira who had such a strong
aversion to one-eyed men, or that other woman who had resolved to cut off
her husband's nose. Her unreserved familiarity, her tender expressions, at
which she began to blush; and her eyes, which, though she endeavored to
divert them to other objects, were always fixed upon his, inspired Zadig
with a passion that filled him with astonishment. He struggled hard to get
the better of it. He called to his aid the precepts of philosophy, which
had always stood him in stead; but from thence, though he could derive the
light of knowledge, he could procure no remedy to cure the disorders of
his lovesick heart. Duty, gratitude, and violated majesty presented
themselves to his mind as so many avenging gods. He struggled; he
conquered; but this victory, which he was obliged to purchase afresh every
moment, cost him many sighs and tears. He no longer dared to speak to the
queen with that sweet and charming familiarity which had been so agreeable
to them both. His countenance was covered with a cloud. His conversation
was constrained and incoherent. His eyes were fixed on the ground; and
when, in spite of all his endeavors to the contrary, they encountered
those of the queen, they found them bathed in tears and darting arrows of
flame. They seemed to say, We adore each other and yet are afraid to love;
we both burn with a fire which we both condemn.
Zadig left the royal presence full of perplexity and despair, and having
his heart oppressed with a burden which he was no longer able to bear. In
the violence of his perturbation he involuntarily betrayed the secret to
his friend Cador, in the same manner as a man who, having long supported
the fits of a cruel disease, discovers his pain by a cry extorted from him
by a more severe fit and by the cold sweat that covers his brow.
"I have already discovered," said Cador, "the sentiments which thou
wouldst fain conceal from thyself. The symptoms by which the passions show
themselves are certain and infallible. Judge, my dear Zadig, since I have
read thy heart, whether the king will not discover something in it that
may give him offense. He has no other fault but that of being the most
jealous man in the world. Thou canst resist the violence of thy passion
with greater fortitude than the queen because thou art a philosopher, and
because thou art Zadig. Astarte is a woman: she suffers her eyes to speak
with so much the more imprudence, as she does not as yet think herself
guilty. Conscious of her innocence, she unhappily neglects those external
appearances which are so necessary. I shall tremble for her so long as she
has nothing wherewithal to reproach herself. Were ye both of one mind, ye
might easily deceive the whole world. A growing passion, which we endeavor
to suppress, discovers itself in spite of all our efforts to the contrary;
but love, when gratified, is easily concealed."
Zadig trembled at the proposal of betraying the king, his benefactor; and
never was he more faithful to his prince than when guilty of an
involuntary crime against him.
Meanwhile the queen mentioned the name of Zadig so frequently and with
such a blushing and downcast look; she was sometimes so lively and
sometimes so perplexed when she spoke to him in the king's presence, and
was seized with such deep thoughtfulness at his going away, that the king
began to be troubled. He believed all that he saw and imagined all that he
did not see. He particularly remarked that his wife's shoes were blue and
that Zadig's shoes were blue; that his wife's ribbons were yellow and that
Zadig's bonnet was yellow; and these were terrible symptoms to a prince of
so much delicacy. In his jealous mind suspicions were turned into
certainty.
All the slaves of kings and queens are so many spies over their hearts.
They soon observed that Astarte was tender and that Moabdar was jealous.
The envious man brought false reports to the king. The monarch now thought
of nothing but in what manner he might best execute his vengeance. He one
night resolved to poison the queen and in the morning to put Zadig to
death by the bowstring. The orders were given to a merciless eunuch, who
commonly executed his acts of vengeance. There happened at that time to be
in the king's chamber a little dwarf, who, though dumb, was not deaf. He
was allowed, on account of his insignificance, to go wherever he pleased,
and, as a domestic animal, was a witness of what passed in the most
profound secrecy. This little mute was strongly attached to the queen and
Zadig. With equal horror and surprise he heard the cruel orders given. But
how to prevent the fatal sentence that in a few hours was to be carried
into execution! He could not write, but he could paint; and excelled
particularly in drawing a striking resemblance. He employed a part of the
night in sketching out with his pencil what he meant to impart to the
queen. The piece represented the king in one corner, boiling with rage,
and giving orders to the eunuch; a bowstring, and a bowl on a table; the
queen in the middle of the picture, expiring in the arms of her woman, and
Zadig strangled at her feet The horizon, represented a rising sun, to
express that this shocking execution was to be performed in the morning.
As soon as he had finished the picture he ran to one of Astarte's women,
awakened her, and made her understand that she must immediately carry it
to the queen.
At midnight a messenger knocks at Zadig's door, awakes him, and gives him
a note from the queen. He doubts whether it is a dream; and opens the
letter with a trembling hand. But how great was his surprise! and who can
express the consternation and despair into which he was thrown upon
reading these words: "Fly this instant, or thou art a dead man. Fly,
Zadig, I conjure thee by our mutual love and my yellow ribbons. I have not
been guilty, but I find I must die like a criminal."
Zadig was hardly able to speak. He sent for Cador, and, without uttering a
word, gave him the note. Cador forced him to obey, and forthwith to take
the road to Memphis. "Shouldst thou dare," said he, "to go in search of
the queen, thou wilt hasten her death. Shouldst thou speak to the king,
thou wilt infallibly ruin her. I will take upon me the charge of her
destiny; follow thy own. I will spread a report that thou hast taken the
road to India. I will soon follow thee, and inform thee of all that shall
have passed in Babylon." At that instant, Cador caused two of the swiftest
dromedaries to be brought to a private gate of the palace. Upon one of
these he mounted Zadig, whom he was obliged to carry to the door, and who
was ready to expire with grief. He was accompanied by a single domestic;
and Cador, plunged in sorrow and astonishment, soon lost sight of his
friend.
This illustrious fugitive arriving on the side of a hill, from whence he
could take a view of Babylon, turned his eyes toward the queen's palace,
and fainted away at the sight; nor did he recover his senses but to shed a
torrent of tears and to wish for death. At length, after his thoughts had
been long engrossed in lamenting the unhappy fate of the loveliest woman
and the greatest queen in the world, he for a moment turned his views on
himself and cried: "What then is human life? O virtue, how hast thou
served me! Two women have basely deceived me, and now a third, who is
innocent, and more beautiful than both the others, is going to be put to
death! Whatever good I have done hath been to me a continual source of
calamity and affliction; and I have only been raised to the height of
grandeur, to be tumbled down the most horrid precipice of misfortune."
Filled with these gloomy reflections, his eyes overspread with the veil of
grief, his countenance covered with the paleness of death, and his soul
plunged in an abyss of the blackest despair, he continued his journey
toward Egypt.