“Is not the audience at an end, O father?” he asked. “Ay, my son, ’tis over; but I would see Sejanus before the delegation leaves.” Drusus slightly frowned when the name of Sejanus was pronounced. But smothering his resentment, he said: “Thy presence, O father, is expected on the Esquiline this night. Fail us not. Many days have passed since thou hast honored my home.” “Gladly will I be there, O my son,” said Tiberius. “Let nothing hinder thee,” persisted Drusus. “I will be there. But why art thou so anxious?” “I have much to tell thee,” replied the wronged son. “Thou hast complaints to make?” “Nay, O father. We shall drink the cup of peace.” “I have told thee I will be there. But what makes Claudius so happy to-day, O my son?” “He is promised some amphorae from Velletri. He is partial to the wine of that district,” replied Drusus, with a mechanical smile. “Happy Claudius!” said Tiberius, working his fingers as he talked and giving to all his words a nasal twang. “Happy Claudius, who lives only for his stomach!” An attendant here announced to Tiberius that Livia was in the vestibule and would enter. “Tell my mother, Livia,” said Tiberius, the frown on his forehead deepening, “that I will not see her to-day.” But the order was futile. Livia had already walked into the council chamber and was directing her way towards the tribunal on which Tiberius was seated. The people had respectfully divided, leaving a passage for her. The attendant approached her and gave her the reply of Tiberius. Livia received the rebuke, but continued on her way. The mother of Tiberius was eighty years old. She was a remarkable woman. Her face, although wrinkled, was yet full of healthy color; her eyes were bright and piercing; her hair was white. She walked upright, her bearing full of dignity. Tiberius hastily rose and went to meet her. The swelling veins on his forehead and the red color of his face showed his anger, yet he dared not use violent words before such a gathering. Watching the quiet dignity of the aged mother and the smothered anger of the enraged son, the guests remained spellbound. Controlling his anger, Tiberius requested her to meet him on the morrow. The wronged mother, however, braved his displeasure and demanded an immediate audience. They retired into an adjoining room. Livia was the first to speak. “In the Senate to-day thou didst insult me, O Tiberius!” she slowly said, in an injured tone. “’Twas not meant as an insult, O mother,” he snarled. “Then see that thy words are expunged from the records of the Senate,” she majestically commanded. “Know, O son, that before a body of august men an insult to a Roman matron, ay, to thy mother, rebounds with redoubled force upon thee. An official position for a friend was my small request. But thou, childish and bitter as thou art, didst say unto the Senate that the position had been extorted from thee by me.” “Ay, ’tis true. I like not thy friend,” whined the emperor.