“I have much to tell thee,” replied the wronged son.
“Thou hast complaints to make?”
“Nay, O father. We shall drink the cup of peace.”
“I have told thee I will be there. But what makes Claudius so happy to-day, O my son?”
“He is promised some amphorae from Velletri. He is partial to the wine of that district,” replied Drusus, with a mechanical smile.
“Happy Claudius!” said Tiberius, working his fingers as he talked and giving to all his words a nasal twang. “Happy Claudius, who lives only for his stomach!”
An attendant here announced to Tiberius that Livia was in the vestibule and would enter.
“Tell my mother, Livia,” said Tiberius, the frown on his forehead deepening, “that I will not see her to-day.”
But the order was futile. Livia had already walked into the council chamber and was directing her way towards the tribunal on which Tiberius was seated. The people had respectfully divided, leaving a passage for her. The attendant approached her and gave her the reply of Tiberius. Livia received the rebuke, but continued on her way.
The mother of Tiberius was eighty years old. She was a remarkable woman. Her face, although wrinkled, was yet full of healthy color; her eyes were bright and piercing; her hair was white. She walked upright, her bearing full of dignity.