thou spakest like a buffoon. It was thy good fortune to associate with
the dead dog; by so humiliating thyself thou hast saved thy life
to-day. Depart, however, from this town,- or tomorrow I shall jump
over thee, a living man over a dead one." And when he had said this,
the buffoon vanished; Zarathustra, however, went on through the dark
streets.

  At the gate of the town the grave-diggers met him: they shone
their torch on his face, and, recognising Zarathustra, they sorely
derided him. "Zarathustra is carrying away the dead dog: a fine
thing that Zarathustra hath turned a grave-digger! For our hands are
too cleanly for that roast. Will Zarathustra steal the bite from the
devil? Well then, good luck to the repast! If only the devil is not
a better thief than Zarathustra!- he will steal them both, he will eat
them both!" And they laughed among themselves, and put their heads
together.

  Zarathustra made no answer thereto, but went on his way. When he had
gone on for two hours, past forests and swamps, he had heard too
much of the hungry howling of the wolves, and he himself became
hungry. So he halted at a lonely house in which a light was burning.

  "Hunger attacketh me," said Zarathustra, "like a robber. Among
forests and swamps my hunger attacketh me, and late in the night.

  "Strange humours hath my hunger. Often it cometh to me only after
a repast, and all day it hath failed to come: where hath it been?"

  And thereupon Zarathustra knocked at the door of the house. An old
man appeared, who carried a light, and asked: "Who cometh unto me
and my bad sleep?"

  "A living man and a dead one," said Zarathustra. "Give me
something to eat and drink, I forgot it during the day. He that
feedeth the hungry refresheth his own soul, saith wisdom."

  The old man withdrew, but came back immediately and offered
Zarathustra bread and wine. "A bad country for the hungry," said he;
"that is why I live here. Animal and man come unto me, the
anchorite. But bid thy companion eat and drink also, he is wearier
than thou." Zarathustra answered: "My companion is dead; I shall
hardly be able to persuade him to eat." "That doth not concern me,"
said the old man sullenly; "he that knocketh at my door must take what
I offer him. Eat, and fare ye well!"-

  Thereafter Zarathustra again went on for two hours, trusting to
the path and the light of the stars: for he was an experienced
night-walker, and liked to look into the face of all that slept.
When the morning dawned, however, Zarathustra found himself in a thick
forest, and no path was any longer visible. He then put the dead man
in a hollow tree at his head- for he wanted to protect him from the
wolves- and laid himself down on the ground and moss. And
immediately he fell asleep, tired in body, but with a tranquil soul.

                            9.

  Long slept Zarathustra; and not only the rosy dawn passed over his
head, but also the morning. At last, however, his eyes opened, and
amazedly he gazed into the forest and the stillness, amazedly he gazed
into himself. Then he arose quickly, like a seafarer who all at once
seeth the land; and he shouted for joy: for he saw a new truth. And he
spake thus to his heart:

  A light hath dawned upon me: I need companions- living ones; not
dead companions and corpses, which I carry with me where I will.

  But I need living companions, who will follow me because they want
to follow themselves- and to the place where I will. A light hath
dawned upon me. Not to the people is Zarathustra to speak, but to
companions! Zarathustra shall not be the herd's herdsman and hound!

  To allure many from the herd- for that purpose have I come. The
people and the herd must be angry with me: a robber shall
Zarathustra be called by the herdsmen.

  Herdsmen, I say, but they call themselves the good and just.
Herdsmen, I say, but they call themselves the believers in the
orthodox belief.

  Behold the good and just! Whom do they hate most? Him who breaketh
up their tables of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker:- he,
however, is the creator.

  Behold the believers of all beliefs! Whom do they hate most? Him who
breaketh up their tables of values, the breaker, the law-breaker-
he, however, is the creator.

  Companions, the creator seeketh, not corpses- and not herds or
believers either. Fellow-creators the creator seeketh- those who grave
new values on new tables.

  Companions, the creator seeketh, and fellow-reapers: for
everything is ripe for the harvest with him. But he lacketh the
hundred sickles: so he plucketh the ears of corn and is vexed.

  Companions, the creator seeketh, and such as know how to whet
their sickles. Destroyers, will they be called, and despisers of
good and evil. But they are the reapers and rejoicers.

  Fellow-creators, Zarathustra seeketh; fellow-reapers and