FOURTH AND LAST PART.
62. LXII. THE CRY OF DISTRESS. (continued)
"Thou ill announcer," said Zarathustra at last, "that is a cry of distress,
and the cry of a man; it may come perhaps out of a black sea. But what
doth human distress matter to me! My last sin which hath been reserved for
me,--knowest thou what it is called?"
--"PITY!" answered the soothsayer from an overflowing heart, and raised
both his hands aloft--"O Zarathustra, I have come that I may seduce thee to
thy last sin!"--
And hardly had those words been uttered when there sounded the cry once
more, and longer and more alarming than before--also much nearer. "Hearest
thou? Hearest thou, O Zarathustra?" called out the soothsayer, "the cry
concerneth thee, it calleth thee: Come, come, come; it is time, it is the
highest time!"--
Zarathustra was silent thereupon, confused and staggered; at last he asked,
like one who hesitateth in himself: "And who is it that there calleth me?"
"But thou knowest it, certainly," answered the soothsayer warmly, "why dost
thou conceal thyself? It is THE HIGHER MAN that crieth for thee!"
"The higher man?" cried Zarathustra, horror-stricken: "what wanteth HE?
What wanteth HE? The higher man! What wanteth he here?"--and his skin
covered with perspiration.
The soothsayer, however, did not heed Zarathustra's alarm, but listened and
listened in the downward direction. When, however, it had been still there
for a long while, he looked behind, and saw Zarathustra standing trembling.
"O Zarathustra," he began, with sorrowful voice, "thou dost not stand there
like one whose happiness maketh him giddy: thou wilt have to dance lest
thou tumble down!
But although thou shouldst dance before me, and leap all thy side-leaps, no
one may say unto me: 'Behold, here danceth the last joyous man!'
In vain would any one come to this height who sought HIM here: caves would
he find, indeed, and back-caves, hiding-places for hidden ones; but not
lucky mines, nor treasure-chambers, nor new gold-veins of happiness.
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