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 tonight 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.