“I am not cruel—but what has happened must be accepted, that is the true philosophy of life, better than all that nonsense declaimed by philosophers.”
“Mother! I will not stay here.”
“Domitia, here you must stay till somebody comes to take you away. Why! as the Gods love me! I expect yet to hear you proclaimed Augusta, and to have to offer incense and to pour a libation on your altar. Think—what an honor to have your wax head among the ancestors, as a divinity to be worshipped—but no—I am wrong there, you would be in the lararium, or set up in the vestibule, a deified ancestress or member of the family is exalted from the atrium to the temple. I really will go out of my way and have a little supper to honor the occasion. I see it all—we shall before long have a college of Flavian priests, and all the whole bundle of mouldy old usurers, and tax-collectors, and their frowsy womankind will be gods, with temples and a cult, and you, my dear! It makes my mouth water.”
“But, mother, why am I carried away?”
“Why! O you jocose little creature, why? because some person I know of has taken a fancy to your monkey ways and baby face.”
“I belong to Lamia. I have been married to him.”
“Oh! that is easily settled. I thank the Immortals, divorce is easily obtained in Rome—with money, influence in Rome—to the end of time, my dear.”
“I do not desire to be divorced—I will not be divorced. I love Lucius and he loves me.”
“You are a child—just away from your dolls, and know nothing of life.”
“But, mother, there are laws. I will throw myself on the protection of the Senate.”