‘What business is it of hers?’ said Nero, reddening, as he noticed the significant glances interchanged between Otho and Vestinus, the latter of whom whispered a Greek proverb about boys tied to their mother’s apron-strings.
‘She then asked whether you had given any other presents, and I said that you had. “To whom?” she asked.’
‘A regular cross-examination!’ whispered Vestinus.
‘I said that you had made presents to Otho, Vestinus, and others.’
‘You need not have been so very communicative, Polycletus,’ said Nero; ‘but go on.’
‘Her lip curled as I mentioned the names.’
‘We are not favourites of the Augusta, alas!’ lisped Otho.
‘But what did she say about the robe?’
‘She barely glanced at the robe and jewels, and when she had finished questioning me, she stamped her foot, tossed the dress over a seat, and scattered the gems over the floor.’
Nero grew very red, and as the freedman again remained silent, he asked whether the Augusta had sent no message.