“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.
“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.