I was sailing across our Lake Larius when a friend pointed out to me a house and also a bedroom which sticks out into the lake: 'Out of this bedroom' he said, 'a certain woman once hurled herself with her husband. Her husband, as a result of a lengthy illness, was wasting away with ulcers. The wife insisted that she should inspect his body; for no-one would tell him more truthfully whether he could be cured. She looked, she despaired, she encouraged him to die, and she herself was the companion of his death, or rather his leader and example and obligation; for she tied herself to her husband and hurled herself into the lake.