THE BASILISK

Arriving in a beautiful meadow, he there saw several women, who were searching for something with great application.  He took the liberty to approach one of them, and to ask if he might have the honor to assist them in their search.  “Take care that thou dost not,” replied the Syrian; “what we are searching for can be touched only by women.”

“Strange,” said Zadig, “may I presume to ask thee what it is that women only are permitted to touch?”

“It is a basilisk,” said she.

“A basilisk, madam! and for what purpose, pray, dost thou seek for a basilisk?”

“It is for our lord and master Ogul, whose cattle thou seest on the bank of that river at the end of the meadow.  We are his most humble slaves.  The lord Ogul is sick.  His physician hath ordered him to eat a basilisk, stewed in rose water; and as it is a very rare animal, and can only be taken by women, the lord Ogul hath promised to choose for his well-beloved wife the woman that shall bring him a basilisk; let me go on in my search; for thou seest what I shall lose if I am prevented by my companions.”

Zadig left her and the other Assyrians to search for their basilisk, and continued to walk in the meadow; when coming to the brink of a small rivulet, he found another lady lying on the grass, and who was not searching for anything.  Her person seemed to be majestic; but her face was covered with a veil.  She was inclined toward the rivulet, and profound sighs proceeded from her mouth.  In her hand she held a small rod with which she was tracing characters on the fine sand that lay between the turf and the brook.  Zadig had the curiosity to examine what this woman was writing.  He drew near; he saw the letter Z, then an A; he was astonished; then appeared a D; he started.  But never was surprise equal to his when he saw the two last letters of his name.

He stood for some time immovable.  At last, breaking silence with a faltering voice:  “O generous lady! pardon a stranger, an unfortunate man, for presuming to ask thee by what surprising adventure I here find the name of Zadig traced out by thy divine hand!”

At this voice, and these words, the lady lifted up the veil with a trembling hand, looked at Zadig, sent forth a cry of tenderness, surprise and joy, and sinking under the various emotions which at once assaulted her soul, fell speechless into his arms.  It was Astarte herself; it was the Queen of Babylon; it was she whom Zadig adored, and whom he had reproached himself for adoring; it was she whose misfortunes he had so deeply lamented, and for whose fate he had been so anxiously concerned.