" answered he: "the same that thou seekest, thou
mischief-maker; that is to say, happiness upon earth.

To that end, however, I would fain learn of these kine. For I tell thee
that I have already talked half a morning unto them, and just now were
they about to give me their answer. Why dost thou disturb them?

Except we be converted and become as kine, we shall in no wise enter
into the kingdom of heaven. For we ought to learn from them one thing:
ruminating.

And verily, although a man should gain the whole world, and yet not
learn one thing, ruminating, what would it profit him! He would not be
rid of his affliction,

--His great affliction: that, however, is at present called DISGUST. Who
hath not at present his heart, his mouth and his eyes full of disgust?
Thou also! Thou also! But behold these kine!"--

Thus spake the Preacher-on-the-Mount, and turned then his own look
towards Zarathustra--for hitherto it had rested lovingly on the kine--:
then, however, he put on a different expression. "Who is this with whom
I talk?" he exclaimed frightened, and sprang up from the ground.

"This is the man without disgust, this is Zarathustra himself, the
surmounter of the great disgust, this is the eye, this is the mouth,
this is the heart of Zarathustra himself."

And whilst he thus spake he kissed with o'erflowing eyes the hands
of him with whom he spake, and behaved altogether like one to whom a
precious gift and jewel hath fallen unawares from heaven. The kine,
however, gazed at it all and wondered.

"Speak not of me, thou strange one; thou amiable one!" said Zarathustra,
and restrained his affection, "speak to me firstly of thyself! Art thou
not the voluntary beggar who once cast away great riches,--

--Who was ashamed of his riches and of the rich, and fled to the poorest
to bestow upon them his abundance and his heart? But they received him
not."

"But they received me not," said the voluntary beggar, "thou knowest it,
forsooth. So I went at last to the animals and to those kine."

"Then learnedst thou," interrupted Zarathustra, "how much harder it is
to give properly than to take properly, and that bestowing well is an
ART--the last, subtlest master-art of kindness."

"Especially nowadays," answered the voluntary beggar: "at present, that
is to say, when everything low hath become rebellious and exclusive and
haughty in its manner--in the manner of the populace.

For the hour hath come, thou knowest it fo