THE SHADOW
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��"What!" said he, "have not at all times the most ridiculous things happened unto us old hermits and saints ?
Verily, my folly hath grown high in the mountains ! Now I hear rattle behind each other six legs of old fools !
But is it allowed unto Zarathustra to be afraid of his shadow ? Besides methinketh in the long run, it hath longer legs than I."
Thus spake Zarathustra, laughing with eyes and intestines. He stopped and turned quickly round. And, behold, in so doing he almost threw his follower and shadow unto the ground. So close did the latter follow at his heels, and so weak he was. When he looked intently upon him, Zarathustra was terrified as by a sudden ghost. So thin, black, hollow, and worn- out looked that follower.
"What art thou?" asked Zarathustra violently; " what dost thou here ? And why callest thou thy- self my shadow? Thou pleasest me not."
" Forgive me," answered the shadow, " that it is I. And if I please thee not well, O Zarathustra, in that respect I praise thee and thy good taste.
A wanderer am I who hath already gone far at thy heels ; ever on the way, but without a goal and without a' home, so that, verily, I fall little short of being the eternal, wandering Jew, except that I am neither eternal nor a Jew.
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