Yet that which I have done, I have done with a good purpose. First,
politically, or according to practical wisdom--in order that you,
not I, might carry the basket. Next, philosophically, or according
to the intuitions of the pure reason--in order that you might, by
beholding the magnificence of that great civilisation which your
fellows wish to destroy, learn that you are an ass, and a tortoise,
and a nonentity, and so beholding yourself to be nothing, may be
moved to become something.'

And he moved off.

Philammon seized him by the collar of his ragged tunic, and held him
in a gripe from which the little man, though he twisted like an eel
could not escape.

'Peaceably, if you will; if not, by main force. You shall go back
with me, and show me every step of the way. It is a just penalty.'

'The philosopher conquers circumstances by submitting to them. I go
peaceably. Indeed, the base necessities of the hog-bucket side of
existence compel me of themselves back to the Moon-gate, for another
early fruit job.'

So they went back together.

Now why Philammon's thoughts should have been running on the next
new specimen of womankind to whom he had been introduced, though
only in name, let psychologists tell, but certainly, after he had
walked some half-mile in silence, he suddenly woke up, as out of
many meditations, and asked--