Opposite to his house lived one Arimazes, a man whose deformed countenance was but a faint picture of his still more deformed mind.  His heart was a mixture of malice, pride, and envy.  Having never been able to succeed in any of his undertakings, he revenged himself on all around him by loading them with the blackest calumnies.  Rich as he was, he found it difficult to procure a set of flatterers.  The rattling of the chariots that entered Zadig’s court in the evening filled him with uneasiness; the sound of his praises enraged him still more.  He sometimes went to Zadig’s house, and sat down at table without being desired; where he spoiled all the pleasure of the company, as the harpies are said to infect the viands they touch.  It happened that one day he took it in his head to give an entertainment to a lady, who, instead of accepting it, went to sup with Zadig.  At another time, as he was talking with Zadig at court, a minister of state came up to them, and invited Zadig to supper without inviting Arimazes.  The most implacable hatred has seldom a more solid foundation.  This man, who in Babylon was called the Envious, resolved to ruin Zadig because he was called the Happy.  “The opportunity of doing mischief occurs a hundred times in a day, and that of doing good but once a year,” as sayeth the wise Zoroaster.

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 pocket-book, 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 rose-bushes, 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.