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[To .] Who is this woman? What? Know you not the widow Publia,—the psalm-singer? Ah, yes, yes, yes! Hilarion! my child! What will they do to him? Ah, Phocion,—are you there? God be praised for sending me a Christian brother! Hush, hush, be quiet; do not scream so loud; the Emperor is coming. Oh, this ungodly Emperor! The Lord of Wrath is visiting his sins upon us; famine ravages the land; the earth trembles beneath our feet! [A detachment of soldiers enters by the street on the right.

Stand aside; make room here!

Oh come, good Phocion;—help me, for our friendship's and our fellowship's sake

Are you mad, woman? I do not know you.