“Ah! thy thoughts drift far away, O Livilla. What troubles thee? Thou dreamest with thine eyes open.”
“I dream of the future, my lord.”
“But our future can be more happy than the present. Truly, I have been tormented by the man I hate. I am rough, but I love my family. Let us quarrel no more, O wife. Why dost thou tremble?”
“I know not, my lord. I feel a sinking in my heart. A cup of wine will strengthen me.”
A slave brought a cup of wine, which she hastily drank. With an effort she controlled herself and forced a smile. She and Drusus then joined Antonia, who was talking to her daughter-in-law, Agrippina. Caligula, the thin and pale twelve-year-old son of Agrippina, stood with his arm locked in his mother’s.
“Thou art sad, O mother,” said Livilla to Antonia.
“Ay; we were speaking of thy brother, Germanicus,” replied Antonia.
“Truly, ’twas this very day, six years ago, that his ashes were laid in the mausoleum of the Divine Augustus. I had forgotten,” said Livilla.
“But the lad, Caligula, bears on his face the stamp of thy noble husband, O Agrippina,” said Drusus.
“Nero resembles his father more than Caligula does, O Drusus,” objected Antonia.