It would be useless to trump up the old charges that Agrippina mourned the murder of Britannicus, or spread abroad the wrongs of Octavia. She determined to devise something entirely new, and to charge Agrippina with the design of marrying and forming a conspiracy with Rubellius Plautus, who, like Nero, was, on the mother’s side, a great-great-grandson of the deified Augustus. Silana sent two of her freedmen, Iturius and Calvisius, with this intelligence to Atimetus, a freedman of Domitia, Nero’s aunt. Atimetus had once been a fellow-slave with Paris. He went to his old friend, and urged him to go at once to Nero, and to denounce the supposed plot with all his consummate vehemence and skill. The actor was not naturally a villain, but he had been trained in an abominable school, and had erased the words ‘ought’ and ‘ought not’ from his vocabulary as completely as most of his contemporaries. That night, at a late hour, he hurried to the Emperor, not in the glittering dress which usually set off his perfect beauty, but in dark and disordered array. His familiarity with Nero procured him at all times a ready entrance into the Palace. He found the Emperor still carousing amid his favourites, and he was received with a burst of welcome by the flushed and full-fed guests. ‘Now this is good of you, Paris,’ said Nero. ‘You alone were wanting to our mirth. Come, brim this crystal vase with our best Falernian, and then let us see a spectacle which would thrill the Muses and the Graces even if Apollo were with them. But--can this be Paris?--our bright, gay, lovely Paris? Why, what is the matter?’ ‘Matter enough,’ said Paris, in such accents of woe, and with such a flood of tears, that the guests could not help weeping with him. ‘Dare I speak, Cæsar?’ ‘Tell us all,’ said Nero, raising himself on his elbow in agitation. ‘What has happened? Have the legions revolted? Is the prætorium in an uproar?’ ‘Not yet,’ said Paris; ‘but--Agrippina--’ ‘Ha!’ said Nero. ‘Go on’--for the actor’s voice seemed to be speechless with emotion. ‘Agrippina--and--Rubellius Plautus--’ Nero was listening with painful interest; and, pretending to recover himself with a great effort, Paris told them the fictitious plot, and succeeded in rousing the Emperor to such a pitch of terror that he started from his couch and tore his hair. ‘Agrippina shall die!’ he exclaimed; ‘and Rubellius Plautus shall die. Here, give me my tablets. Despatch instant orders for their arrest and execution. And send for Burrus--no! he is the creature of my mother; she made him Prætorian Præfect. My foster-brother Cæcina Tuscus shall command the Prætorians, and Burrus shall die. Quick, quick, send for Seneca; not a moment is to be lost!’