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The mightiest men have hitherto always bowed reverently before the saint, as the enigma of self-subjugation and utter voluntary privation⁠—why did they thus bow? They divined in him⁠—and as it were behind the questionableness of his frail and wretched appearance⁠—the superior force which wished to test itself by such a subjugation; the strength of will, in which they recognized their own strength and love of power, and knew how to honour it: they honoured something in themselves when they honoured the saint. In addition to this, the contemplation of the saint suggested to them a suspicion: such an enormity of self-negation and anti-naturalness will not have been coveted for nothing⁠—they have said, inquiringly. There is perhaps a reason for it, some very great danger, about which the ascetic might wish to be more accurately informed through his secret interlocutors and visitors? In a word, the mighty ones of the world learned to have a new fear before him, they divined a new power, a strange, still unconquered enemy:⁠—it was the “Will to Power” which obliged them to halt before the saint. They had to question him.