‘The Empress.’
‘Octavia, the daughter of Claudius? May the gods bless her!’
The provincial gazed long at Octavia.
‘But now tell me,’ he continued, ‘who is that purpureal personage, with large rings, scarlet boots, and a very white forehead?’
Martial laughed aloud. ‘His forehead may well be white,’ he said. ‘Do you know what it is made of?’
‘Made of?’ asked the young Gaul in astonishment.
‘Yes. It is made of sticking-plaster! If you took it off, what do you think you would see under it?’
‘His skin, I suppose.’
‘His skin, yes! But with three letters on it.’
‘What three letters?’