Chapter 2: The Nose
Original French
Le nez.
Un jour Azora revint d'une promenade, tout en colère, et fesant de grandes exclamations. Qu'avez-vous, lui dit-il, ma chère épouse? qui vous peut mettre ainsi hors de vous-même? Hélas! dit-elle, vous seriez indigné comme moi, si vous aviez vu le spectacle dont je viens d'être témoin. J'ai été consoler la jeune veuve Cosrou, qui vient d'élever, depuis deux jours, un tombeau à son jeune époux auprès du ruisseau qui borde cette prairie. Elle a promis aux dieux, dans sa douleur, de demeurer auprès de ce tombeau tant que l'eau de ce ruisseau coulerait auprès. Eh bien! dit Zadig, voilà une femme estimable qui aimait véritablement son mari! Ah! reprit Azora, si vous saviez à quoi elle s'occupait quand je lui ai rendu visite! A quoi donc, belle Azora? Elle fesait détourner le ruisseau. Azora se répandit en des invectives si longues, éclata en reproches si violents contre la jeune veuve, que ce faste de vertu ne plut pas à Zadig.
Il avait un ami, nommé Cador, qui était un de ces jeunes gens à qui sa femme trouvait plus de probité et de mérite qu'aux autres: il le mit dans sa confidence, et s'assura, autant qu'il le pouvait, de sa fidélité par un présent considérable. Azora ayant passé deux jours chez une de ses amies à la campagne, revint le troisième jour à la maison. Des domestiques en pleurs lui annoncèrent que son mari était mort subitement, la nuit même, qu'on n'avait pas osé lui porter cette funeste nouvelle, et qu'on venait d'ensevelir Zadig dans le tombeau de ses pères, au bout du jardin. Elle pleura, s'arracha les cheveux, et jura de mourir. Le soir, Cador lui demanda la permission de lui parler, et ils pleurèrent tous deux. Le lendemain ils pleurèrent moins, et dînèrent ensemble. Cador lui confia que son ami lui avait laissé la plus grande partie de son bien, et lui fit entendre qu'il mettrait son bonheur à partager sa fortune avec elle. La dame pleura, se fâcha, s'adoucit; le souper fut plus long que le dîner; on se parla avec plus de confiance. Azora fit l'éloge du défunt; mais elle avoua qu'il avait des défauts dont Cador était exempt.
Au milieu du souper, Cador se plaignit d'un mal de rate violent; la dame, inquiète et empressée, fit apporter toutes les essences dont elle se parfumait, pour essayer s'il n'y en avait pas quelqu'une qui fût bonne pour le mal de rate; elle regretta beaucoup que le grand Hermès ne fût pas encore à Babylone; elle daigna même toucher le côté où Cador sentait de si vives douleurs. Etes-vous sujet à cette cruelle maladie? lui dit-elle avec compassion. Elle me met quelquefois au bord du tombeau, lui répondit Cador, et il n'y a qu'un seul remède qui puisse me soulager: c'est de m'appliquer sur le côté le nez d'un homme qui soit mort la veille. Voilà un étrange remède, dit Azora. Pas plus étrange, répondit-il, que les sachets du sieur Arnoultᵃ contre l'apoplexie. Cette raison, jointe à l'extrême mérite du jeune homme, détermina enfin la dame. Après tout, dit-elle, quand mon mari passera du monde d'hier dans le monde du lendemain sur le pont Tchinavar, l'ange Asrael lui accordera-t-il moins le passage parceque son nez sera un peu moins long dans la seconde vie que dans la première? Elle prit donc un rasoir; elle alla au tombeau de son époux, l'arrosa de ses larmes, et s'approcha pour couper le nez à Zadig, qu'elle trouva tout étendu dans la tombe. Zadig se relève en tenant son nez d'une main, et arrêtant le rasoir de l'autre. Madame, lui dit-il, ne criez plus tant contre la jeune Cosrou; le projet de me couper le nez vaut bien celui de détourner un ruisseau.
ᵃ Il y avait dans ce temps un Babylonien, nommé Arnoult, qui guérissait et prévenait toutes les apoplexies, dans les gazettes, avec un sachet pendu au cou.
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 Nose.
One day Azora returned from a walk in a fury, exclaiming loudly. “What is the matter, my dear wife?” he asked. “What can have put you so beside yourself?” “Alas!” she said. “You would be as indignant as I am if you had seen what I have just witnessed. I went to console the young widow Cosrou, who two days ago raised a tomb to her young husband beside the stream that borders that meadow. In her grief she promised the gods to remain beside the tomb as long as the water of that stream flowed past it.” “Well!” said Zadig. “There is an admirable woman, who truly loved her husband!” “Ah!” Azora replied. “If you knew what she was doing when I called on her!” “What, then, fair Azora?” “She was having the stream diverted.” Azora poured out such lengthy abuse and such violent reproaches against the young widow that this parade of virtue displeased Zadig.
He had a friend named Cador, one of those young men whom his wife thought more upright and deserving than the rest. He took him into his confidence and secured his loyalty, as far as he could, with a considerable gift. Azora spent two days with a woman friend in the country, and returned home on the third. Weeping servants told her that her husband had died suddenly that very night; that they had not dared bring her the dreadful news; and that Zadig had just been buried in his ancestors' tomb at the end of the garden. She wept, tore her hair, and swore she would die. That evening Cador asked leave to speak with her, and they both wept. The next day they wept less, and dined together. Cador confided that his friend had left him the greater part of his property, and gave her to understand that his happiness would lie in sharing his fortune with her. The lady wept, grew angry, softened; supper lasted longer than dinner, and their talk became more intimate. Azora praised the deceased, but admitted that he had faults from which Cador was free.
In the middle of supper Cador complained of a violent pain in his spleen. The lady, anxious and attentive, had all her scented essences brought, to try whether any might be good for it. She greatly regretted that the great Hermes was not yet in Babylon; she even condescended to touch the side where Cador felt such sharp pain. “Are you subject to this cruel illness?” she asked compassionately. “It sometimes brings me to the edge of the grave,” Cador answered, “and only one remedy can relieve me: to lay on my side the nose of a man who died the day before.” “What a strange remedy!” said Azora. “No stranger,” he replied, “than Master Arnoult's sachetsᵃ against apoplexy.” This argument, joined to the young man's exceptional merit, at last decided the lady. “After all,” she said, “when my husband passes from yesterday's world into tomorrow's across the bridge of Tchinavar, will the angel Asrael be any less willing to let him through because his nose is a little shorter in his second life than in his first?” So she took a razor, went to her husband's tomb, watered it with her tears, and approached to cut the nose off Zadig, whom she found stretched out in the grave. Zadig rose, holding his nose with one hand and stopping the razor with the other. “Madam,” he said, “do not rail so loudly against young Cosrou. The plan to cut off my nose is quite a match for the plan to divert a stream.”
ᵃ There was at that time a Babylonian named Arnoult who, in the newspapers, cured and prevented every case of apoplexy with a sachet hung around the neck.
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 Nose.
One day Azora came back from a walk very angry, exclaiming loudly. "What's wrong, my dear wife?" he asked. "What could have upset you so much?" "Oh," she said, "you'd be as outraged as I am if you'd seen what I just saw. I went to comfort the young widow Cosrou. Two days ago she put up a tomb for her young husband beside the stream along that meadow. In her grief, she promised the gods she would stay beside the tomb as long as the stream kept flowing past it." "Well," said Zadig, "there's an admirable woman who truly loved her husband!" "Ah," Azora replied, "if you only knew what she was doing when I visited her!" "What was it, beautiful Azora?" "She was having the stream diverted." Azora went on insulting the young widow for so long, and burst out in such violent accusations, that Zadig disliked this show of virtue.
He had a friend named Cador, one of the young men his wife considered more honest and worthy than the rest. He took Cador into his confidence and gave him a substantial gift to make as sure as he could of his loyalty. Azora spent two days with a woman friend in the country and returned home on the third day. Weeping servants told her that her husband had died suddenly that very night. They had not dared bring her the terrible news, and had just buried Zadig in his family tomb at the end of the garden. She wept, tore her hair, and swore she would die. That evening Cador asked permission to speak to her, and they both wept. The next day they wept less and had dinner together. Cador told her privately that his friend had left him most of his property. He hinted that nothing would make him happier than sharing his fortune with her. The lady wept, became angry, then softened. Supper lasted longer than dinner. They spoke more openly to each other. Azora praised her dead husband, but admitted that he had faults Cador did not have.
In the middle of supper, Cador complained of a terrible pain in his spleen. Anxious and eager to help, the lady had all her perfumes brought in, to see whether any of them might be good for it. She was very sorry that the great Hermes was not yet in Babylon. She even went so far as to touch the side where Cador was in such severe pain. "Do you often suffer from this terrible illness?" she asked sympathetically. "Sometimes it brings me close to death," Cador replied, "and only one remedy can give me relief. I have to put the nose of a man who died the day before against my side." "What a strange remedy," said Azora. "No stranger," he answered, "than Mr. Arnoult's pouchesᵃ for strokes." This argument, together with the young man's outstanding qualities, finally persuaded the lady. "After all," she said, "when my husband crosses the Tchinavar bridge from the world of yesterday into the world of tomorrow, will the angel Asrael be any less willing to let him through because his nose is a little shorter in his second life than in his first?" So she took a razor and went to her husband's tomb. She covered it with her tears and moved closer to cut off Zadig's nose. She found him stretched out in the grave. Zadig got up, holding his nose with one hand and stopping the razor with the other. "Madam," he told her, "stop making such a fuss about young Cosrou. Planning to cut off my nose is every bit as good as planning to divert a stream."
ᵃ At that time there was a Babylonian named Arnoult who, in the newspapers, cured and prevented every stroke with a pouch hung around the neck.
About this section
Chapter 2: The Nose 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 4 of 23 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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