FOURTH AND LAST PART.
71. LXXI. THE GREETING.
It was late in the afternoon only when Zarathustra, after long useless
searching and strolling about, again came home to his cave. When, however,
he stood over against it, not more than twenty paces therefrom, the thing
happened which he now least of all expected: he heard anew the great CRY
OF DISTRESS. And extraordinary! this time the cry came out of his own
cave. It was a long, manifold, peculiar cry, and Zarathustra plainly
distinguished that it was composed of many voices: although heard at a
distance it might sound like the cry out of a single mouth.
Thereupon Zarathustra rushed forward to his cave, and behold! what a
spectacle awaited him after that concert! For there did they all sit
together whom he had passed during the day: the king on the right and the
king on the left, the old magician, the pope, the voluntary beggar, the
shadow, the intellectually conscientious one, the sorrowful soothsayer, and
the ass; the ugliest man, however, had set a crown on his head, and had put
round him two purple girdles,--for he liked, like all ugly ones, to
disguise himself and play the handsome person. In the midst, however, of
that sorrowful company stood Zarathustra's eagle, ruffled and disquieted,
for it had been called upon to answer too much for which its pride had not
any answer; the wise serpent however hung round its neck.
All this did Zarathustra behold with great astonishment; then however he
scrutinised each individual guest with courteous curiosity, read their
souls and wondered anew. In the meantime the assembled ones had risen from
their seats, and waited with reverence for Zarathustra to speak.
Zarathustra however spake thus:
"Ye despairing ones! Ye strange ones! So it was YOUR cry of distress that
I heard? And now do I know also where he is to be sought, whom I have
sought for in vain to-day: THE HIGHER MAN--:
--In mine own cave sitteth he, the higher man! But why do I wonder! Have
not I myself allured him to me by honey-offerings and artful lure-calls of
But it seemeth to me that ye are badly adapted for company: ye make one
another's hearts fretful, ye that cry for help, when ye sit here together?
There is one that must first come,