“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 favored 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.

They talked of passions.  “Ah,” said Zadig, “how fatal are their effects!”

“They are in the winds,” replied the hermit, “that swell the sails of the ship; it is true, they sometimes sink her, but without them she could not sail at all.  The bile makes us sick and choleric; but without bile we could not live.  Everything in this world is dangerous, and yet everything is necessary.”

The conversation turned on pleasure; and the hermit proved that it was a present bestowed by the deity.  “For,” said he, “man cannot give himself either sensations or ideas; he receives all; and pain and pleasure proceed from a foreign cause as well as his being.”

Zadig was surprised to see a man, who had been guilty of such extravagant actions, capable of reasoning with so much judgment and propriety.  At last, after a conversation equally entertaining and instructive, the host led back his two guests to their apartment, blessing Heaven for having sent him two men possessed of so much wisdom and virtue.  He offered them money with such an easy and noble air as could not possibly give any offense.  The hermit refused it, and said that he must now take his leave of him, as he set out for Babylon before it was light.  Their parting was tender; Zadig especially felt himself filled with esteem and affection for a man of such an amiable character.