The story-line of this chapter centers on Zarathustra resting under a fig tree on a hot day, with his arms covering his face as he sleeps. An adder approaches and bites him on the neck, causing him to cry out. Upon awakening and removing his arms, Zarathustra sees the serpent. Recognizing his gaze, the adder becomes uneasy and attempts to leave. Zarathustra addresses it, expressing gratitude for waking him at the right time, as his journey is still long. The adder, lamenting, tells him that its venom is deadly and his journey will now be short. Smiling, Zarathustra reassures the serpent, questioning when a dragon ever died from a serpent’s poison. He tells the adder to take back its venom, implying it is not wealthy enough to bestow such a gift upon him. In response, the adder coils around his neck once more and licks his wound, symbolically retracting its venom.

Later, Zarathustra recounts this incident to his disciples. They ask him for the moral of the story. Zarathustra replies that the “good and just” call him the destroyer of morals, so his story is immoral. He advises that if one has an enemy, repaying evil with good is misguided, as it shames the adversary. Instead, one should demonstrate that the enemy has done some good. If one suffers a great injustice, he proposes committing small injustices in return to distribute the weight, as shared injustice lessens the burden. He argues that a small act of revenge is more human than none and that punishment should be a right and an honor for the transgressor; otherwise, he disapproves of such punishment.

Zarathustra expresses disdain for “cold justice,” observing that the eyes of judges reveal the executioner within. He questions where one might find justice that is love with open eyes and calls for a form of love that bears all punishment and guilt. He seeks a justice that acquits everyone except the judge. Acknowledging the impossibility of being fundamentally just and giving everyone their due, he resolves to give each person his own perspective or contribution.

Finally, he cautions his disciples against wronging hermits. A hermit cannot easily forget or repay wrongs, likened to a deep well into which a stone can be easily thrown but not retrieved once it reaches the bottom. He warns that if one offends a hermit, it would be better to kill him too, possibly an allusion to Machiavelli’s recommendation that, if one is
going to injure someone, it is best to employ sufficient force to hinder retaliation.