“Thou always callest him Caius,” said Agrippina. “Ay, my mother; I like not the other name.” “Caligula is the name given him by the soldiers,” said the mother. “Caius pleases me better,” insisted the youth. “Thy sisters, Agrippina and Drusilla, will then remain for their midday meal in the house of mourning with thy cousin Julia?” inquired Agrippina, as she again reclined upon the couch in the middle room. “Ay, mother.” “And Nero, where didst thou leave him?” “He left me in the Forum.” “Whither did he go?” “He went to the camp to see Sejanus.” “Possibly the games will be postponed now that Drusus is dead,” said Agrippina. “In one year thou, too, my son, wilt reach the manly age. By that time Nero will be wed.” “Whom will he wed, O mother?” “The emperor has not made his--” But she was interrupted by the appearance of Nero, who entered the atrium, and sitting down on his mother’s couch, sadly said, “’Tis over!” “What has been decided?” asked Agrippina. “There will be no games,” said Nero. Nero was the sixteen-year-old son of Agrippina, and was her favorite because he had inherited the manly bearing and the handsome features of his father. His black eyes were bright and quick, and his face was expressive of joy and kindness. “But I had already told thee that out of respect for thine uncle’s death the games might be prevented,” said Agrippina. “I had thought they might be postponed,” said Nero, in a disappointed tone. “Who has told thee?” asked Agrippina. “Sejanus,” answered Nero. “Instead, gratuities will be given the people.” “Strive higher, O my son, than to amuse the people,” gently advised Agrippina. “Aim for the greatest distinction that the Roman can bestow,--the triumph. There is no more glorious picture than that of a hero marching with his captives along the Via Sacra towards the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. Such honors did thy ancestors enjoy. Be a true descendant of the Divine Julius and the Divine Augustus. Be a true son of thy father.” “Verily, I will try,” said Nero. “Dost thou remember thy father’s triumph, O Drusus?” “Ay, mother. ’Twas a day that I shall never forget.” “’Twas the seventh day before the calends of June,” said Agrippina. “Caius Coelius and Lucius Pomponius were consuls. In that magnificent procession, led by the Conscript Fathers, there was one spectacle at which the people, carried away by their enthusiasm, kissed their hands and wept tears of joy. For, my children, more splendid than all the gold or silver, ay, more splendid than all the glories of this world, there, borne aloft, were the standards that had been recaptured by the valor of thine august father. Ye were with him on that supremely glorious day. But, my Nero, didst thou learn aught else this morning?”