Agrippina listened to this report with anxious disquietude, and Pallas told her further that lately the Emperor had often pressed Britannicus and Octavia to his heart; had spoken of their wrongs; had declared that they should not be ousted from their place in his affections by the crafty and upstart son of such a wretch as Domitius Ahenobarbus, of whom it might be said, as the orator Licinius Crassus said of his ancestor, ‘No wonder his beard was of brass, since his tongue was of iron, and his heart of lead.’ Claudius often repeated himself, and when he saw his son he had several times used the Greek proverb, ὁ τρώσας καὶ ἰάσεται, ‘he who wounded shall also heal you.’ But worse news followed, and Agrippina grasped the side of her couch with an impulse of terror, when, last of all, Pallas told her that, on that very evening, the Emperor, in his cups, had been heard to mutter to some of his intimates ‘that he more than suspected the designs of his wife; and that it had always been his destiny to bear the flagitious conduct of his consorts for a time, but at last to avenge it.’ As she heard these words Agrippina stood up, her arms outstretched, her fine nostril dilated, her whole countenance inflamed with rage and scorn. ‘The dotard!’ she exclaimed, ‘the miserable, drivelling, drunken dotard! He to speak thus of me! Pallas, the hour for delay is over. It is time to act. But,’ she added, ‘Narcissus is still here. He loves his master; he watches over him with sleepless vigilance. I dare attempt nothing while he remains about the Court.’ ‘He is crippled with the gout,’ answered Pallas. ‘He suffers excruciating agony. He cannot hold out much longer. I told him that you strongly recommended him to try the sulphur baths of Sinuessa. He is nearly certain to take the hint. In a week or two at the latest he will ask leave of absence, for his life is a torture.’ ‘Good!’ whispered the Empress; and then, dropping her voice to a whisper, she hissed into the ear of the freedman, ‘Claudius must not live.’ ‘You need not drop your voice, Augusta,’ said Pallas. ‘No slave is near. I placed one of my own attendants in the corridor, and forbade him on pain of death to let anyone approach your chamber.’ ‘You ventured to tell him that?’ asked Agrippina, amazed at the freedman’s boldness. ‘Not to _tell_ him that,’ answered Pallas. ‘Do you suppose that I would degrade myself by speaking to one of my own slaves, or even of my own freedmen--I who, as the senate truly says, am descended from Evander and the ancient kings of Arcadia, though I deign to be among Cæsar’s servants? No! a look, a sign, a wave of the hand is sufficient command from me. If anything more is wanted I write it down on my tablets. I rejoice--as I told the senate when they offered me four million sesterces--to serve Cæsar and retain my poverty.’