"I was sought out and removed by my servants; I returned to my own country, not daring to raise my eyes from the earth, so heavy was the sense of my dishonour, and the weight of my infamy: in the looks of my friends I fancied I read their condemnation; the Heavens themselves seemed obscured for me. Hardly could two or three neighbours meet to chat together in the street, but I fancied their discourse must be about my disgrace; and at length I grew so oppressed with melancholy and my sad fancies, that to escape from, or at least alleviate their bitterness, I determined to quit my native land, and renouncing my inheritance in favour of a younger brother, to banish myself entirely from my native country and home. I went away in a vessel, with a few servants, and came to these northern parts, to seek some spot where the story of my shameful defeat should be unknown, and where my name might be buried in obscurity. "By chance I found this little isle--its appearance pleased me; with the assistance of my servants I built this hermitage, and shut myself up in it; I then dismissed them, but desired that once in each year they would come and see me, in order to bury my remains. The love they bore me, and the gifts which I bestowed on them, made them willingly obey my requests, for I will not call them commands. They departed, and left me to my solitude, wherein I found such pleasant company in these trees, herbs, and flowers, clear streams, and babbling brooks, that I lamented I had not sooner escaped from my sorrows. O sweet solitude! friend of the unhappy! O silence, how welcome art thou, without fear of the voice of the flatterer, or the slanderer. How much could I not say, sirs, in favour of this holy solitude and wholesome silence; but I must stop myself to tell you, how in a year my servants returned, and brought with them my adored Eusebia, whom you see in this sister hermit. She had heard from my servants of the retreat which I had found; and in recompense for my love, and compassion for my disgrace, she resolved to bear me company in my trouble, as we had both been innocent of all guilt, and had not been companions in crime: so embarking with them, she left her home and her country, her wealth and comforts, and what was more than all, she left her good name and honour to become the public talk, since by her flight she confirmed the report of our mutual fault.