And shortly see our way to honest work....
Listen! Do others follow us, or no?
It seemed our concourse emptied all the town.
Who stirs through this dim weather?
A slave rushes in.
A Slave. Theodora!
They are bringing Theodora here to die.
The Crowd. Victory!
Didymus. Lord my God, what hast Thou wrought?
I tremble with the sorrow and the joy.