s! when
wilt thou drink my soul back into thee?"

Thus spake Zarathustra, and rose from his couch beside the tree, as if
awakening from a strange drunkenness: and behold! there stood the
sun still exactly above his head. One might, however, rightly infer
therefrom that Zarathustra had not then slept long.

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 my happiness?

But it seemeth to me that ye are badly adapted for company: ye make
one another's hearts fretful, y