FOURTH AND LAST PART.
68. LXVIII. THE VOLUNTARY BEGGAR. (continued)
Nor, methinketh, hath thy stomach either: unto IT all such rage and hatred
and foaming-over is repugnant. Thy stomach wanteth softer things: thou
art not a butcher.
Rather seemest thou to me a plant-eater and a root-man. Perhaps thou
grindest corn. Certainly, however, thou art averse to fleshly joys, and
thou lovest honey."
"Thou hast divined me well," answered the voluntary beggar, with lightened
heart. "I love honey, I also grind corn; for I have sought out what
tasteth sweetly and maketh pure breath:
--Also what requireth a long time, a day's-work and a mouth's-work for
gentle idlers and sluggards.
Furthest, to be sure, have those kine carried it: they have devised
ruminating and lying in the sun. They also abstain from all heavy thoughts
which inflate the heart."
--"Well!" said Zarathustra, "thou shouldst also see MINE animals, mine
eagle and my serpent,--their like do not at present exist on earth.
Behold, thither leadeth the way to my cave: be to-night its guest. And
talk to mine animals of the happiness of animals,--
--Until I myself come home. For now a cry of distress calleth me hastily
away from thee. Also, shouldst thou find new honey with me, ice-cold,
golden-comb-honey, eat it!
Now, however, take leave at once of thy kine, thou strange one! thou
amiable one! though it be hard for thee. For they are thy warmest friends
--"One excepted, whom I hold still dearer," answered the voluntary beggar.
"Thou thyself art good, O Zarathustra, and better even than a cow!"
"Away, away with thee! thou evil flatterer!" cried Zarathustra
mischievously, "why dost thou spoil me with such praise and flattery-honey?
"Away, away from me!" cried he once more, and heaved his stick at the fond
beggar, who, however, ran nimbly away.