Socrates walked, deep in thought, up and down the courtyard of his house, which was very simple and had no colonnades. His wife was carding wool, and did it as if she were pulling someone’s hair.
The wise man kept silence, but the woman spoke—that was her nature. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“For the sake of old acquaintance, I will answer you, though I am not obliged to do so. I am thinking.”
“Is that a proper business for a man?”
“Certainly; a very manly business.”
“At any rate no one can see what you are doing.”
“When you were with child, it was also invisible; but when, it was born, it was visible, and especially audible. Thus occupations which are at first invisible, become visible later on. They are therefore not to be despised, least of all by those who only believe in the visible.”
“Is your business with Aspasia something of that sort?”
“Something of that, and of another sort too.”
“You drink also a good deal.”