For, she says, I have foregone husband, children, all the enjoyments of life, for the attainment of this single object, the favour of God, and good repute amongst men.  Yet one day the offender, an adept from boyhood in corrupting families, with the impudence habitual to him, forced an entrance into my house; and thus within the bare limits of an interview an acquaintanceship was formed.  It was only owing to my ignorance of the man, and to that timidity which comes from inexperience, that I hesitated openly to turn him out of doors.  Yet to such a pitch of impiety and insolence did he come, that he filled the whole city with slanders, and publicly inveighed against me by affixing to the church doors libellous placards.  For this conduct, it is true, he incurred the displeasure of the law:  but, nevertheless, he returned to his slanderous attacks on me.  Once more the market-place was filled with his abuse, as well as the gymnasia, theatres, and houses whose congeniality of habits gained him an admittance.  Nor did his very extravagance lead men to recognise those virtues wherein I was conspicuous, so universally had I been represented as being of an incontinent disposition.  In these calumnies, she goes on to say, some find a delight—such is the pleasure men naturally feel in the disparagement of others; some profess to be pained, but shew no sympathy; others believe the truth of these slanders; others again, having regard to the persistency of his oaths, are undecided.  But sympathy I have none.  And now indeed I begin to realise my loneliness, and bewail myself.  I have no brother, friend, relation, no servant, bond or free, in a word, no one whatever to share my grief.  And yet, I think, I am more than any one else an object of pity, in a city where the haters of wickedness are so few.  They bandy violence; but violence, though they fail to see it, moves in a circle, and in time will overtake each one of them.