Cornelia staggered with dread.
"It's Ahenobarbus," she gasped, in a deathly whisper; "he sometimes comes back from Puteoli by boat.

He will murder you when he finds you here!" "Can't I escape through the house ?" The words, however, were no sooner out of Drusus's mouth, than Lucius Ahenobarbus, dressed in the most fashionably cut scarlet lacerna, perfumed and coiffured to a nicety, appeared on the terrace.

Some evil genius had led him straight up without the least delay.
It was the first time that the two enemies had met face to face since Drusus had declined the invitation to Marcus Laeca's supper.

Be it said to Lucius's credit that he sensed the situation with only the minimum of confusion, and instantly realized all of Cornelia's worst fears.
Drusus had drawn back from the steps to the lower terrace, and stood with stern brow and knotted fist, trapped by a blunder that could hardly have been guarded against, no submissive victim to what fate had in store.

Cornelia, for once quite distraught with terror, cowered on a bench, unable to scream through sheer fright.
"_Salve!_ amice," was the satirical salutation of Ahenobarbus.