“Ay, O mother, despair not; for the sons of Germanicus will sit on the throne of their father’s hopes,” said Drusus, full of enthusiasm. “But nothing, my son, pierced the heart of Tiberius more than the titles bestowed upon me. Then prayers--” “Thy children know well those titles, O mother. Do not hesitate to mention them. Of a truth they were right when they called thee ‘the ornament of her country, the only blood of Augustus, and an unparalleled example of primitive virtue.’” “Then prayers,” continued Agrippina, slightly smiling at her son’s loyalty, “were offered in the temples for the preservation of you children, that you might outlive your oppressor.” “But the emperor loves the children of Germanicus, O mother. Does he not provide for them?” “Ay, my son, he provides for them, but with the wealth that should be theirs.” “Does he not pay for the games that Nero gives?” “Ay-- But didst thou not hear a noise?” “What kind of noise?” asked Drusus, springing to his feet. “Go into the atrium,” she whispered, affrightened, “and see who has overheard us.” Drusus rushed into the atrium, and in the room that adjoined the one where his mother reclined, he saw a servant conceal something in the bosom of his tunic. “What have you hidden there?” demanded Drusus. “Nothing, my master,” replied the servant, as he hastened away. “Hold!” cried Agrippina, as she appeared in the atrium. “Move not a step! What ho! Artus, Mano!” she called. When these two servants appeared, she commanded: “Search that servant; he has stolen something.” In a moment Artus and Mano discovered, hidden in the tunic of the servant, a tablet with a stylus attached to it by a cord. “Give it me,” said Agrippina. Rapidly glancing at it, she read a portion of her conversation with Drusus. “Ah!” she exclaimed. “Thou art a spy! Beat him and send him into the streets!” she ordered, as she smoothed away the writing on the waxen tablet. There was a struggle as Artus and Mano led the spy up the steps to the servants’ quarters. Shortly after deadened blows were heard, followed by cries and groans. “Oh that a descendant of the gods should be subjected to such indignity!” exclaimed Agrippina. “Even my words are copied and reported to Tiberius! O son, I have spoken to thee plainly. Thou hast good judgment. Speak not a word of what I have said to thee. Guard well thy words. Weigh each one of them. The walls carry messages, the stones speak in these days of terror.” The calls of Agrippina and the tumult of the servants had penetrated into the room of Caligula, who was studying with his master. The lad left his instructor and ran downstairs into the atrium, crying, “What has happened, my mother?” “Nothing, my child. Go back to thy master. A servant has been corrected.” “Nothing more?” he asked in a disappointed tone. “Nothing, Caius,” replied Drusus, smiling. The little fellow quickly turned, ran up the stairs, and was soon again at work upon his studies.