‘Say rather that your spies have told you about it,’ said Nero. ‘And if they have,’ she said defiantly--‘what then?’ ‘Why this,’ he answered; ‘that, as I have told you before, I am Emperor, and mean to be Emperor; and if you do not choose to be taught it by fair means, by all the gods, you shall be taught it by foul.’ ‘By all the gods?’ said Agrippina, repeating his oath. ‘Are you not afraid of their wrath?’ Nero smiled a peculiar smile. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Why should I fear gods when I can make them myself?’[53] Agrippina was stung by the sense of her impotence, and maddened by the shipwreck of her ambition; but she was too proud and fierce to abandon the contest. ‘If you do not fear any gods,’ she said, ‘you shall fear me. Britannicus has nearly arrived at the age of manhood. He is the son of Claudius; you are not. But for me he would have been Emperor; by my aid he may yet sit upon his father’s throne. Then once more Rome shall see a man ruling her, and not a singer and a dandy.’ Nero, filled with fury, clenched his fist, and strode forward as though he would strike her. She sprang up with flashing eyes. ‘Would you dare to strike me?’ she shrieked. ‘By heavens, if you did, I would that moment stab you to the heart.’ At the word she drew from her robe a dagger which she always carried there, and raised it in her right hand, while her bosom heaved with passion. Nero sprang back, but Agrippina, as though in the revulsion of disdain, dropped the dagger at her feet. ‘You would make a fine tragedian, mother,’ said Nero, with a bitter sneer. The excess of Agrippina’s rage seemed to stifle her. ‘One hope, at least, the gods have left me,’ she gasped forth, as soon as she could find voice to speak. ‘Britannicus yet lives; I will take him with me to the Prætorian camp. I will see whether the soldiers will listen to the daughter of Germanicus, or to Burrus with his mutilated hand and Seneca with his professorial tongue.’ ‘I am tired of all this,’ answered Nero. ‘Only remember that some day you may provoke me too far. There are such persons as informers; there is such a law as that of _læsa majestas_.’