Thereupon did Life look thoughtfully behind and around, and said softly: “O Zarathustra, thou art not faithful enough to me!

“Thou lovest me not nearly so much as thou sayest; I know thou thinkest of soon leaving me.

“There is an old heavy, heavy, booming-clock: it boometh by night up to thy cave:⁠—

“⁠—When thou hearest this clock strike the hours at midnight, then thinkest thou between one and twelve thereon⁠—

“⁠—Thou thinkest thereon, O Zarathustra, I know it⁠—of soon leaving me!”⁠—

“Yea,” answered I, hesitatingly, “but thou knowest it also”⁠—And I said something into her ear, in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish tresses.

“Thou knowest that, O Zarathustra? That knoweth no one⁠⸺”