All the judges admired Zadig for his acute and profound discernment.  The news of this speech was carried even to the king and queen.  Nothing was talked of but Zadig in the antechambers, the chambers, and the cabinet; and though many of the magi were of opinion that he ought to be burned as a sorcerer, the king ordered his officers to restore him the four hundred ounces of gold which he had been obliged to pay.  The register, the attorneys, and bailiffs, went to his house with great formality, to carry him back his four hundred ounces.  They only retained three hundred and ninety-eight of them to defray the expenses of justice; and their servants demanded their fees.

Zadig saw how extremely dangerous it sometimes is to appear too knowing, and therefore resolved that on the next occasion of the like nature he would not tell what he had seen.

Such an opportunity soon offered.  A prisoner of state made his escape, and passed under the window of Zadig’s house.  Zadig was examined and made no answer.  But it was proved that he had looked at the prisoner from this window.  For this crime he was condemned to pay five hundred ounces of gold; and, according to the polite custom of Babylon, he thanked his judges for their indulgence.

“Great God!” said he to himself, “what a misfortune it is to walk in a wood through which the queen’s spaniel or the king’s horse has passed! how dangerous to look out at a window! and how difficult to be happy in this life!”

THE ENVIOUS MAN

Zadig resolved to comfort himself by philosophy and friendship for the evils he had suffered from fortune.  He had in the suburbs of Babylon a house elegantly furnished, in which he assembled all the arts and all the pleasures worthy the pursuit of a gentleman.  In the morning his library was open to the learned.  In the evening his table was surrounded by good company.  But he soon found what very dangerous guests these men of letters are.  A warm dispute arose on one of Zoroaster’s laws, which forbids the eating of a griffin.  “Why,” said some of them, “prohibit the eating of a griffin, if there is no such an animal in nature?” “There must necessarily be such an animal,” said the others, “since Zoroaster forbids us to eat it.”  Zadig would fain have reconciled them by saying, “If there are no griffins, we cannot possibly eat them; and thus either way we shall obey Zoroaster.”

A learned man who had composed thirteen volumes on the properties of the griffin, and was besides the chief theurgite, hastened away to accuse Zadig before one of the principal magi, named Yebor, the greatest blockhead and therefore the greatest fanatic among the Chaldeans.  This man would have impaled Zadig to do honors to the sun, and would then have recited the breviary of Zoroaster with greater satisfaction.  The friend Cador (a friend is better than a hundred priests) went to Yebor, and said to him, “Long live the sun and the griffins; beware of punishing Zadig; he is a saint; he has griffins in his inner court and does not eat them; and his accuser is an heretic, who dares to maintain that rabbits have cloven feet and are not unclean.”