_August_ 3.--One of those distressing little incidents happened to-day which entirely spoil one's comfort and peace of mind for the moment: just like a piece of dust getting into one's eye. My old friend Lucius Anuseius came all the way from Rhodes to see me. By some mistake he was shown into the Chamber, where prisoners are examined, and before the error was rectified he was rather rudely interrogated. It turned out afterwards that Balbus mistook him for Titus Anuseius, the informer. Balbus is growing more and more stupid; he forgets everything. I ought to send him away; on the other hand, he knows my habits, and I should feel lost without him. As it is, Claricles says that Lucius is likely to feel it for several days. He is so sensitive and the slightest thing upsets his nerves. All his family are touchy, and I am afraid he will look upon the matter as a deliberate slight. If it had happened to anyone else it would not have mattered. They would have understood at once. This has quite put me out. But, as Fufius says, how little I shall think of this in a year's time. _August_ 7.--Lucius Anuseius left the island in a huff. It is most regrettable. _August_ 12.--Agrippina arrives to-morrow. There is nothing to be done. How pleasant life would be were it not for one's relations. XII FROM THE DIARY OF ŒDIPUS REX _Corinth. The Feast of the Minotaur._--My birthday and coming-of-age. All went oft very successfully. Papa gave me a chariot and mamma a pocket tooth-pick, set in gold, with an Egyptian inscription on it (two flamingoes and a water-rat, which means in Egyptian "Be merry and wise"). Nausicaa, my nurse, gave me a stylus-wiper with "A Present from Corinth" beautifully worked into it in silk. Polyphemus, our faithful old messenger (who has only one eye), gave me a pair of sandal strings. Very useful, as I'm always losing mine. In the morning, after I had received all the family congratulations and tokens, at the first meal, there was a public presentation of gifts in the palace. The town of Corinth sent a deputation, headed by the Priest of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, which presented me, on behalf of the city, with a silver vase, symbolic of the freedom of the city, beautifully embossed, and engraved with a suitable inscription. The priest made a long speech, and papa, who never cared for oratory, kept on muttering, "By Demeter, be brief," but the priest wasn't brief. He spoke for nearly an hour. Then I had to respond. I said I would earnestly endeavour to follow in my father's footsteps and to deserve the good-will and esteem of my future subjects, which was being manifested in so touching and patriotic a fashion. My speech had all been written out for me beforehand by Zoroaster, my Persian tutor; but I flatter myself I added a few unexpected and telling touches. For instance, I began by saying: "Unaccustomed as I am to speaking in public--." They cheered this to the echo.