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.