, 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 and preceptors!"--

--"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.

LXIX. THE SHADOW.

Scarcely however was the voluntary beggar gone in haste, and Zarathustra
again alone, when he heard behind him a new voice which called out:
"Stay! Zarathustra! Do wait! It is myself, forsooth, O Zarathustra,
myself, thy shadow!" But Zarathustra did not wait; for a sudden
irritation came over him on account of the crowd and the crowding in his
mountains. "Whither hath my lonesomeness gone?" spake he.

"It is verily becoming too much for me; these mountains swarm; my
kingdom is no longer of THIS world; I require new mountains.

My shadow calleth me? What matter about my shadow! Let it run after me!
I--run away from it."

Thus spake Zarathustra to his heart and ran away. But the one behind
followed after him, so that immediately there were three runners,
one after the other--namely, foremost the voluntary beggar, then
Zarathustra, and thirdly, and hindmost, his shadow. But not long had
they run thus when Zarathustra became conscious of his folly, and shook
off with one jerk all his irritation and detestation.

"What!" said he, "have not the most ludicrous things always happened to
us old anchorites and saints?

Verily, my folly hath grown big in the mountains! Now do I hear six old
fools' legs rattling behind one another!

But doth Zarathustra need to b