The envious man went to see Zadig, who was walking in his garden with two friends and a lady, to whom he said many gallant things, without any other intention than that of saying them.  The conversation turned upon a war which the king had just brought to a happy conclusion against the prince of Hircania, his vassal.  Zadig, who had signalized his courage in this short war, bestowed great praises on the king, but greater still on the lady.  He took out his pocketbook, and wrote four lines extempore, which he gave to this amiable person to read.  His friends begged they might see them; but modesty, or rather a well-regulated self love, would not allow him to grant their request.  He knew that extemporary verses are never approved of by any but by the person in whose honor they are written.  He therefore tore in two the leaf on which he had wrote them, and threw both the pieces into a thicket of rosebushes, where the rest of the company sought for them in vain.  A slight shower falling soon after obliged them to return to the house.  The envious man, who stayed in the garden, continued the search till at last he found a piece of the leaf.  It had been torn in such a manner that each half of a line formed a complete sense, and even a verse of a shorter measure; but what was still more surprising, these short verses were found to contain the most injurious reflections on the king.  They ran thus: 

  To flagrant crimes. 
    His crown he owes,
  To peaceful times. 
    The worst of foes.

The envious man was now happy for the first time of his life.  He had it in his power to ruin a person of virtue and merit.  Filled with this fiendlike joy, he found means to convey to the king the satire written by the hand of Zadig, who, together with the lady and his two friends, was thrown into prison.

His trial was soon finished, without his being permitted to speak for himself.  As he was going to receive his sentence, the envious man threw himself in his way and told him with a loud voice that his verses were good for nothing.  Zadig did not value himself on being a good poet; but it filled him with inexpressible concern to find that he was condemned for high treason; and that the fair lady and his two friends were confined in prison for a crime of which they were not guilty.  He was not allowed to speak because his writing spoke for him.  Such was the law of Babylon.  Accordingly he was conducted to the place of execution, through an immense crowd of spectators, who durst not venture to express their pity for him, but who carefully examined his countenance to see if he died with a good grace.  His relations alone were inconsolable, for they could not succeed to his estate.  Three fourths of his wealth were confiscated into the king’s treasury, and the other fourth was given to the envious man.