A Third Citizen.
[Drawing near.] Tell me, good friend, what is the matter? Phocion. This day of all others, I say, when our august ruler is himself to officiate at the feast of Apollo. The Third Citizen. Yes, I know that; but why are they taking these Christians to prison? Phocion. What? Are they taking them to prison? Have they really caught them?
[Loud shrieks are heard.
Hush; what is that? Yes, by the gods, I believe they have them! [An Old Woman, much agitated, and with dishevelled hair, makes her way through the crowd; she is beset by other women, who in vain seek to restrain her.
The Old Woman.
I will not be held back! He is my only son, the child of my old age! Let me go; let me go! Can no one tell me where I can find the Emperor?
Phocion.
What would you with the Emperor, old mother?
The Old Woman.
I would have my son again. Help me! My son! Hilarion! Oh, they have taken him from me! They burst into our house—and then they took him away!
