“Thy Divine ancestor, Augustus, always wore a sack of sealskin when it lightened. Jupiter, however, never touches the laurel with his thunderbolts. Look at the water! By the infernal gods! no one will dare attempt to bring my letters to-day. Go, child, to the tower and inquire if there are any signals from the shore.” Caligula departed and quickly returned. “A boat rowed by four men approaches the island, my father,” said Caligula. “At last I shall receive my letters!” exclaimed Tiberius, with satisfaction. “Where is the little Tiberius?” “On the tower, my lord.” “Let us join him and watch the landing of the boat. Come!” ordered the emperor. They climbed the steps to a high tower which overlooked the whole eastern portion of the island. Since he was brought to Capri, the youngest son of Agrippina had lived a life of continual dread. He had left the island but once,--the time when he pronounced the panegyric at the funeral of his great-grandmother, Livia. After those few days of freedom he had returned directly to the island. He had been informed of the arrest of his mother and brothers, and had heard of the death of Nero, his favorite brother; but he dared not show his grief before the tyrant Tiberius. Sleeping with the Prince Tiberius in a room which adjoined the emperor’s, he could not, even at night, show signs of grief over the sad fate of his family. The impure life at Capri was such that the most chaste and virtuous could hardly escape contamination. The island was filled with vile wretches and loose women, who performed obscene ceremonies in the rooms of the villa. The small gardens were often the scenes of revolting spectacles. At dinner indecent stories were told by pathic Greeks, while the host and his revelling companions ate and drank like beasts. The sleeping-apartments contained suggestive and shameful pictures. In such an atmosphere was the youth Caligula trained and developed. Murder was almost a daily occurrence. The steep cliffs were often streaked with blood. At the base of these cliffs human bones and remnants of bodies were sometimes washed ashore. Upon the tower of the Villa Jovis the emperor with his grandson and Caligula now stood, watching the small boat dashed about by the tumultuous seas. The oars moved unevenly, but the muscles that wielded them seemed to be conquering the violence of the waves, and the boat slowly approached the island. Occasional clouds still scudded across the heavens, but large patches of blue sky showed that the storm had indeed spent its force, as the astrologer had said. “Who dares tempt the elements on such a day?” asked Tiberius. “’Tis not an imperial boat,” said Caligula. “The men row too unevenly.”