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THE LAST OF THE CLAUDII 225
boy lay there, silent, noble, beautiful, pale as a statue carved
in alabaster; and Octavia disburdened the long-pent agony
of repression in such a storm of weeping that her attendants
tried to lead her away. But she tore off her jewels, and flung
her arms round the corpse of her brother, and laid her head
upon his breast, and sobbed aloud. Father, mother, brother,
her first
young and noble lover, Silanus all who had ever
loved and cared for her were gone. He was the last of
all his race. The last male Claudius, whose line was derived
through that long and splendid ancestry of well-nigh
seven hundred years, was lying before her on that lowly
bed!
He was to be buried that very night, as though he had been
a pauper and not the noblest boy of an imperial aristocracy.
There was something fatally suspicious in the rapidity with
which every preparation was made.
The obolus for Charon was put under his tongue the fair
;
young body was arrayed in its finest robe, was laid on a bier,
and was carried to the vestibule with its feet towards the
door ;
and as it lay there Titus brought in his hand a wreath
of lilies, which he had begged from the keeper of the exotic
flowers, and placed
it on the innocent forehead of his friend.
He turned away with the words, which could scarcely make
their way through sobs, ' Farewell ! forever farewell ! But
'
he never forgot that boyish affection
;
and long years after,
when he was Emperor, he placed in the Palace a statue of
Britaunicus in gold, and at solemn processions he had an
equestrian statuette of ivory carried before him which represented
the young prince whose love to him had been far truer
and closer than that of his own brother.
Only for one instant did Nero venture to look on his handiwork.
He came into the vestibule in his festal robes, his
eyes heavy, the garland still on his dishevelled hair, accompanied
by Tigellinus and Senecio.
'
I suppose he died in the fit '
? he said to one of the slaves.
'
He breathed his last,' answered the man, ' within an hour
of being carried from the feast.'
Something disquieted Nero. Furtively pointing his finger
towards the dead boy, he said something to Tigellinus.
'
A little chalk will set that right,' whispered Tigellinus in
reply, and he gave an order into the ear of his confidential