The narrative of this chapter begins with Zarathustra walking alone at dusk, carefully concealing something beneath his cloak. His secretive demeanor prompts an old woman to approach him with curiosity. She inquires whether he carries a treasure, a newborn child, or if he is perhaps engaging in thievery. Zarathustra replies that he possesses a small truth, unruly like a young child, which would cry out loudly if he did not keep its mouth shut.

The old woman observes that Zarathustra has spoken much to women but never about women. She requests that he share his thoughts on the female gender, asserting that she is old enough to forget his words immediately. Yielding to her entreaty, Zarathustra articulates his perspectives on women. He suggests that everything about women is a riddle with a single solution: pregnancy. For women, men serve as a means to an end, with the child being the ultimate purpose. He ponders what women signify for men, proposing that the true man seeks danger and play, desiring woman as the most dangerous plaything.

Zarathustra continues by asserting that men should be trained for war and women as a means of recuperation for warriors, dismissing other notions as folly. He remarks that overly sweet fruits do not appeal to the warrior; thus, even the sweetest woman possesses a bitterness. While women understand children better than men, he posits that men are inherently more childlike. He calls upon women to reveal the hidden child within men.

Further, Zarathustra envisions women as pure and refined, comparable to precious stones illuminated by virtues of a world yet to come. He encourages women to embody the radiance of a star in their love and to aspire to give birth to the Übermensch—the superior individual who transcends conventional morality. He emphasizes that women’s love should be courageous and honorable, urging them to love more than they are loved and to never be second. He warns men to fear women in love, as they are willing to make any sacrifice and may disregard all else. Conversely, he cautions against women’s hatred, suggesting that while men may harbor evil in their souls, women possess a different kind of malice.

To illustrate complex dynamics of attraction and power, Zarathustra recounts a metaphorical exchange between iron and magnet, where iron expresses hatred toward the magnet for attracting but not possessing sufficient strength to draw it in completely. He concludes that a man’s happiness lies in his asserting will (“I will”), whereas a woman’s happiness resides in submission to another’s will (“he wills”). When a woman obeys out of complete love, she perceives the world as newly perfected. Zarathustra asserts that women must obey and find depth in their superficial nature, likening their minds to a restless surface atop shallow waters. In contrast, he describes men’s minds as deep rivers flowing through subterranean caves—powerful forces sensed but not fully understood by women.

In response, the old woman acknowledges that while Zarathustra may know little about women, he nonetheless speaks truths, perhaps because with women, nothing is impossible. As a gesture of gratitude, she offers him a “little truth,” cautioning him to wrap it up and keep its mouth shut, lest it cry out loudly. Upon his request, she imparts her wisdom: “You are going to women? Do not forget the whip!” The chapter concludes with this provocative remark, leaving the reader to contemplate its implications.