Chapter 16: The Robber
Original French
Le brigand.
En arrivant aux frontières qui séparent l'Arabie pétrée de la Syrie, comme il passait près d'un château assez fort, des Arabes armés en sortirent. Il se vit entouré; on lui criait: Tout ce que vous avez nous appartient, et votre personne appartient à notre maître. Zadig, pour réponse, tira son épée; son valet, qui avait du courage, en fit autant. Ils renversèrent morts les premiers Arabes qui mirent la main sur eux; le nombre redoubla; ils ne s'étonnèrent point, et résolurent de périr en combattant. On voyait deux hommes se défendre contre une multitude; un tel combat ne pouvait durer long-temps. Le maître du château, nommé Arbogad, ayant vu d'une fenêtre les prodiges de valeur que fesait Zadig, conçut de l'estime pour lui. Il descendit en hâte, et vint lui-même écarter ses gens, et délivrer les deux voyageurs. Tout ce qui passe sur mes terres est à moi, dit-il, aussi bien que ce que je trouve sur les terres des autres; mais vous me paraissez un si brave homme, que je vous exempte de la loi commune. Il le fit entrer dans son château, ordonnant à ses gens de le bien traiter; et le soir Arbogad voulut souper avec Zadig.
Le seigneur du château était un de ces Arabes qu'on appelle voleurs; mais il fesait quelquefois de bonnes actions parmi une foule de mauvaises; il volait avec une rapacité furieuse, et donnait libéralement: intrépide dans l'action, assez doux dans le commerce, débauché à table, gai dans la débauche, et surtout plein de franchise. Zadig lui plut beaucoup; sa conversation, qui s'anima, fit durer le repas: enfin Arbogad lui dit: Je vous conseille de vous enrôler sous moi, vous ne sauriez mieux faire; ce métier-ci n'est pas mauvais; vous pourrez un jour devenir ce que je suis. Puis-je vous demander, dit Zadig, depuis quel temps vous exercez cette noble profession? Dès ma plus tendre jeunesse, reprit le seigneur. J'étais valet d'un Arabe assez habile; ma situation m'était insupportable. J'étais au désespoir de voir que, dans toute la terre qui appartient également aux hommes, la destinée ne m'eût pas réservé ma portion. Je confiai mes peines à un vieil Arabe qui me dit: Mon fils, ne désespérez pas; il y avait autrefois un grain de sable qui se lamentait d'être un atome ignoré dans les déserts; au bout de quelques années il devint diamant, et il est à présent le plus bel ornement de la couronne du roi des Indes. Ce discours me fit impression; j'étais le grain de sable, je résolus de devenir diamant. Je commençai par voler deux chevaux; je m'associai des camarades; je me mis en état de voler de petites caravanes: ainsi je fis cesser peu-à-peu la disproportion qui était d'abord entre les hommes et moi. J'eus ma part aux biens de ce monde, et je fus même dédommagé avec usure: on me considéra beaucoup; je devins seigneur brigand; j'acquis ce château par voie de fait. Le satrape de Syrie voulut m'en déposséder; mais j'étais déjà trop riche pour avoir rien à craindre; je donnai de l'argent au satrape, moyennant quoi je conservai ce château, et j'agrandis mes domaines; il me nomma même trésorier des tributs que l'Arabie pétrée payait au roi des rois. Je fis ma charge de receveur, et point du tout celle de payeur.
Le grand desterham de Babylone envoya ici, au nom du roi Moabdar, un petit satrape, pour me faire étrangler. Cet homme arriva avec son ordre: j'étais instruit de tout; je fis étrangler en sa présence les quatre personnes qu'il avait amenées avec lui pour serrer le lacet; après quoi je lui demandai ce que pouvait lui valoir la commission de m'étrangler. Il me répondit que ses honoraires pouvaient aller à trois cents pièces d'or. Je lui fis voir clair qu'il y aurait plus à gagner avec moi. Je le fis sous-brigand; il est aujourd'hui un de mes meilleurs officiers, et des plus riches. Si vous m'en croyez, vous réussirez comme lui. Jamais la saison de voler n'a été meilleure, depuis que Moabdar est tué, et que tout est en confusion dans Babylone.
Moabdar est tué! dit Zadig; et qu'est devenue la reine Astarté? Je n'en sais rien, reprit Arbogad; tout ce que je sais, c'est que Moabdar est devenu fou, qu'il a été tué, que Babylone est un grand coupe-gorge, que tout l'empire est désolé, qu'il y a de beaux coups à faire encore, et que pour ma part j'en ai fait d'admirables. Mais la reine, dit Zadig; de grâce, ne savez-vous rien de la destinée de la reine? On m'a parlé d'un prince d'Hyrcanie, reprit-il; elle est probablement parmi ses concubines, si elle n'a pas été tuée dans le tumulte; mais je suis plus curieux de butin que de nouvelles. J'ai pris plusieurs femmes dans mes courses, je n'en garde aucune; je les vends cher quand elles sont belles, sans m'informer de ce qu'elles sont. On n'achète point le rang; une reine qui serait laide ne trouverait pas marchand; peut-être ai-je vendu la reine Astarté, peut-être est-elle morte; mais peu m'importe, et je pense que vous ne devez pas vous en soucier plus que moi. En parlant ainsi il buvait avec tant de courage, il confondait tellement toutes les idées, que Zadig n'en put tirer aucun éclaircissement.
Il restait interdit, accablé, immobile. Arbogad buvait toujours, fesait des contes, répétait sans cesse qu'il était le plus heureux de tous les hommes, exhortant Zadig à se rendre aussi heureux que lui. Enfin doucement assoupi par les fumées du vin, il alla dormir d'un sommeil tranquille. Zadig passa la nuit dans l'agitation la plus violente. Quoi, disait-il, le roi est devenu fou! il est tué! Je ne puis m'empêcher de le plaindre. L'empire est déchiré, et ce brigand est heureux: ô fortune! ô destinée! un voleur est heureux, et ce que la nature a fait de plus aimable a péri peut-être d'une manière affreuse, ou vit dans un état pire que la mort. O Astarté! qu'êtes-vous devenue?
Dès le point du jour il interrogea tous ceux qu'il rencontrait dans le château; mais tout le monde était occupé, personne ne lui répondit: on avait fait pendant la nuit de nouvelles conquêtes, on partageait les dépouilles. Tout ce qu'il put obtenir dans cette confusion tumultueuse, ce fut la permission de partir. Il en profita sans tarder, plus abîmé que jamais dans ses réflexions douloureuses.
Zadig marchait inquiet, agité, l'esprit tout occupé de la malheureuse Astarté, du roi de Babylone, de son fidèle Cador, de l'heureux brigand Arbogad, de cette femme si capricieuse que des Babyloniens avaient enlevée sur les confins de l'Egypte, enfin de tous les contre-temps et de toutes les infortunes qu'il avait éprouvées.
Musean translation
Complete machine-assisted Musean translation made directly from Voltaire’s French in Beuchot’s 1829 edition: Approbation, dedicatory epistle and all twenty-one chapters, including The Dance and Blue Eyes. Voltaire’s notes are retained; later editors’ notes are omitted. Source-language review is recorded with the source witness.
The Robber.
When he reached the border between Arabia Petraea and Syria, armed Arabs came out of a well-fortified castle he was passing. He found himself surrounded. “Everything you have belongs to us,” they shouted, “and you yourself belong to our master.” Zadig answered by drawing his sword; his servant, a courageous man, did the same. They struck dead the first Arabs who laid hands on them. Their attackers doubled in number; undaunted, they resolved to die fighting. There were two men defending themselves against a multitude; such a struggle could not last long. The master of the castle, named Arbogad, saw Zadig’s astonishing feats of valor from a window and conceived an esteem for him. He hurried down, came himself to drive his men back, and freed the two travelers. “Everything that passes through my lands is mine,” he said, “as is anything I find on other people’s lands. But you seem such a brave man that I exempt you from the general rule.” He brought him into his castle, ordering his men to treat him well; and that evening Arbogad chose to dine with Zadig.
The lord of the castle was one of those Arabs known as robbers; but among a multitude of bad deeds he sometimes did good ones. He robbed with furious greed and gave generously; fearless in action, rather gentle in his dealings, dissolute at table, merry in his excesses, and above all frank. He took a great liking to Zadig; their conversation grew lively and prolonged the meal. At last Arbogad said, “I advise you to enlist under me; you could do no better. It is not a bad trade. One day you may become what I am.” “May I ask,” said Zadig, “how long you have practiced this noble profession?” “Since my earliest youth,” the lord replied. “I was the servant of a fairly able Arab; my situation was unbearable. I despaired to see that, of all the earth, which belongs equally to everyone, destiny had reserved no share for me. I confided my troubles to an old Arab, who told me, ‘My son, do not despair. Once there was a grain of sand that lamented being an unknown speck in the desert. After a few years it became a diamond, and now it is the finest ornament in the crown of the king of India.’ His words struck home. I was the grain of sand; I resolved to become a diamond. I began by stealing two horses. I gathered some comrades around me and put myself in a position to rob small caravans. In this way I gradually ended the disparity that had originally existed between other men and me. I had my share of this world’s goods; indeed, I was compensated with interest. I was held in great esteem. I became a robber lord; I acquired this castle by force. The satrap of Syria tried to dispossess me, but I was already too rich to have anything to fear. I gave the satrap money, in return for which I kept the castle and enlarged my estates. He even appointed me treasurer of the tribute Arabia Petraea paid to the King of Kings. I performed my duties as a receiver, and not at all as a payer.
“The Great Desterham of Babylon sent a minor satrap here, in King Moabdar’s name, to have me strangled. The man arrived with his orders; I knew all about them. Before his eyes I had the four men he had brought to tighten the cord strangled themselves. Then I asked what his commission to strangle me might earn him. He answered that his fee could run to three hundred gold pieces. I made it plain that he would earn more with me. I made him my deputy robber; today he is one of my best officers, and one of the richest. Take my advice, and you will succeed as he did. There has never been a better season for robbery, now that Moabdar has been killed and everything in Babylon is in confusion.”
“Moabdar has been killed!” said Zadig. “And what has become of Queen Astarté?” “I know nothing about that,” Arbogad replied. “All I know is that Moabdar went mad, that he was killed, that Babylon is one great cutthroats’ den, that the whole empire is laid waste, that there are still some fine hauls to be made, and that for my part I have made some splendid ones.” “But the queen,” said Zadig. “Please, do you know nothing of the queen’s fate?” “I have heard something about a prince of Hyrcania,” he replied. “She is probably among his concubines, unless she was killed in the uproar. But I am more interested in plunder than in news. I have captured a number of women on my raids; I keep none of them. I sell them for a good price when they are beautiful, without asking who they are. People do not buy rank. An ugly queen would find no buyer. Perhaps I have sold Queen Astarté; perhaps she is dead. But it matters little to me, and I think you should care no more than I do.” As he spoke he drank so valiantly, and muddled every idea so thoroughly, that Zadig could get no clear account from him.
He sat speechless, crushed, motionless. Arbogad kept drinking, telling stories, repeating endlessly that he was the happiest of men, and urging Zadig to make himself just as happy. At last, gently lulled by the fumes of wine, he went off to sleep in peace. Zadig spent the night in the most violent turmoil. “What!” he said. “The king went mad! He has been killed! I cannot help pitying him. The empire is torn apart, and this robber is happy. Oh, fortune! Oh, destiny! A thief is happy, and the most lovable being nature ever made has perhaps died a dreadful death, or lives in a state worse than death. Oh, Astarté! What has become of you?”
At daybreak he questioned everyone he met in the castle; but everyone was busy, and no one answered. Fresh conquests had been made during the night; they were dividing the spoils. All he could obtain amid this tumultuous confusion was permission to leave. He took advantage of it without delay, more deeply sunk than ever in his painful reflections.
Zadig walked on, anxious and troubled, his mind filled with the unfortunate Astarté, the king of Babylon, his faithful Cador, the happy robber Arbogad, that woman of such changeable moods whom Babylonians had carried off on the borders of Egypt—in short, with all the reversals and misfortunes he had suffered.
Plain English translation
Complete machine-assisted Plain English translation made independently and directly from the French, in separate source-only translation tasks, not from the Musean edition or a published English translation. Same complete scope and author’s notes; later editors’ notes are omitted. Source-language review is recorded with the source witness.
The Robber.
When Zadig reached the border between Arabia Petraea and Syria, he passed near a well-fortified castle. Armed Arabs came out of it, and he found himself surrounded. They shouted, "Everything you have belongs to us, and you belong to our master." Zadig answered by drawing his sword. His servant, who was brave, did the same. They struck dead the first Arabs who laid hands on them. Twice as many came at them. They did not lose heart and resolved to die fighting. Two men were defending themselves against a crowd. Such a fight could not last long. The castle's master, named Arbogad, saw Zadig's amazing feats of courage from a window and came to respect him. He hurried down and himself drove his men back and freed the two travelers. "Everything that passes through my land is mine," he said, "and so is anything I find on other people's land. But you seem such a brave man that I'll exempt you from the general rule." He brought Zadig into his castle and ordered his men to treat him well. That evening Arbogad wanted to have supper with him.
The lord of the castle was one of those Arabs called robbers. But among his many bad deeds he sometimes did good ones. He robbed with furious greed and gave generously. He was fearless in action, fairly gentle in his dealings, wild at the table, cheerful in his excesses, and above all frank. He liked Zadig very much. Zadig's lively conversation kept the meal going. At last Arbogad said, "I advise you to join my band. You couldn't do better. This isn't a bad trade. One day you could become what I am." "May I ask," Zadig said, "how long you've practiced this noble profession?" "Since my earliest youth," the lord replied. "I was the servant of a fairly clever Arab. I couldn't stand my position. All the earth belongs equally to everyone, and I was desperate to see that fate had not set aside my share. I confided my troubles to an old Arab, who said, 'My son, don't despair. Once there was a grain of sand that lamented being an unnoticed speck in the desert. After a few years it became a diamond. Now it's the finest jewel in the crown of the king of India.' His words struck me. I was the grain of sand. I resolved to become a diamond. I began by stealing two horses. I gathered some companions and put myself in a position to rob small caravans. In this way I gradually did away with the inequality that had existed between other men and me. I got my share of this world's goods and was even compensated with interest. People thought very highly of me. I became a robber lord and took this castle by force. The governor of Syria wanted to drive me out, but I was already too rich to have anything to fear. I gave him money. In return I kept the castle and enlarged my lands. He even made me treasurer of the tribute Arabia Petraea paid to the king of kings. I performed my duties as collector, but none at all as payer.
"The Great Desterham of Babylon sent a minor governor here in King Moabdar's name to have me strangled. This man arrived with his order. I knew all about it. He had brought four people with him to tighten the cord. I had them strangled in front of him. Then I asked him how much he stood to make from the job of strangling me. He answered that his fee could come to three hundred gold pieces. I made it clear that there was more to be earned with me. I made him a deputy robber. Today he's one of my best officers and one of the richest. Take my advice, and you'll succeed as he did. There's never been a better season for robbery, now that Moabdar has been killed and everything in Babylon is in confusion."
"Moabdar has been killed!" Zadig said. "And what's become of Queen Astarté?" "I don't know," Arbogad replied. "All I know is that Moabdar went mad and was killed, that Babylon is one big den of cutthroats, that the whole empire is devastated, that there are still some fine hauls to be made, and that I've made some wonderful ones myself." "But the queen," Zadig said. "Please, don't you know anything about the queen's fate?" "I've heard of a prince of Hyrcania," he replied. "She's probably among his concubines, unless she was killed in the uproar. But I'm more interested in loot than news. I've captured several women on my raids. I don't keep any of them. When they're beautiful, I sell them for a high price without asking who they are. People don't buy rank. An ugly queen wouldn't find a buyer. Perhaps I've sold Queen Astarté. Perhaps she's dead. But I don't care, and I don't think you should worry about it any more than I do." As he spoke, he drank so boldly and muddled all his ideas so thoroughly that Zadig could get no clear information out of him.
Zadig sat speechless, crushed, motionless. Arbogad kept drinking, telling stories, and endlessly repeating that he was the happiest man alive. He urged Zadig to make himself just as happy. At last, gently lulled by the fumes of the wine, he went off to sleep peacefully. Zadig spent the night in the most violent turmoil. "What!" he said. "The king went mad! He's been killed! I can't help pitying him. The empire is torn apart, and this robber is happy. Oh, fortune! Oh, fate! A thief is happy, and the loveliest person nature ever made may have died horribly, or may be living in a state worse than death. Oh, Astarté! What has become of you?"
At daybreak he questioned everyone he met in the castle. But everyone was busy, and no one answered. They had made fresh conquests during the night and were dividing the spoils. In all this noisy confusion, the only thing he could obtain was permission to leave. He took advantage of it at once, more deeply sunk than ever in his painful thoughts.
Zadig walked on, anxious and restless. His mind was filled with the unhappy Astarté, the king of Babylon, his faithful Cador, the happy robber Arbogad, and that fickle woman whom some Babylonians had carried off on the borders of Egypt. In short, he thought of all the setbacks and misfortunes he had suffered.
About this section
Chapter 16: The Robber is part of Zadig, or Destiny by Voltaire. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 18 of 23 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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