"Why, by all the gods, Demetrius, why are you staring at him that way ?" "By Zeus!" muttered the other, "if I had only my sword! It would be easy to stab him, and then escape in this crowd!" "Stab him!" cried Agias.

"Demetrius, good cousin, control yourself.
You are not on the deck of your trireme, with all your men about you.
Why should you be thus sanguinary, when you see Lucius Domitius?
Why hate him more than any other Roman ?" The consular, unaware of the threat against him, but with a compelling fear of Caesar's Gallic cavalry lending strength to the arm with which he plied the whip--for the law against driving inside the city no man respected that day--whirled out of sight.
Demetrius still strained at his cousin's arm.
"Listen, Agias," he said, still hoarsely.

"Only yesterday I ran upon you by chance in the crowd.

We have many things to tell one another, chiefly I to tell you.

Why do I hate Lucius Domitius?
Why should you hate him?
Who made you a slave and me an outlaw?
Your father died bankrupt; you know it was said that Philias, his partner, ruined him.
That was truth, but not the whole truth.