The Caesar was filled with admiration at the sight of the unusually brilliant, delicate texture. "Manlius, I appoint you Senator." The courtiers began to stare enviously at Manlius. As the barber, who was the most jealous of any sign of favour from the Caesar, could find no fault with the _velamen_, he vented his anger upon Manlius' face. "Where did you get those freckles, Manlius? You look as if the flies had played an evil trick with your features." "You are a barber, Marcius. I painted these freckles. It is a very aristocratic fashion which I learned at the court of Persia." "Is it the fashion there to wear freckles?" asked Carinus, whose cheeks Marcius was in the habit of painting white and pink. "Only among the aristocrats. It is the distinguishing mark between the dignitaries of the kingdom and the common people. True, it requires a more refined taste than yours, Marcius, to appreciate this; one must understand, too, why and in what degree these freckles embellish the face. The empty, smooth face, like yours, for instance, which, when one looks at it, shows only white and pink, is the beauty of the plebeian; Apollo's countenance is freckled." Manlius knew that Carinus liked to be called Apollo. The courtiers were horrified at this bold assertion. "I repeat that Apollo's face is adorned with freckles. For Apollo's image is the sun, and is not the sun itself full of spots? Is not the sky strewn with stars, and are not the stars the freckles of the sky, as freckles are the stars of the human face? Therefore, O Marcius, do not censure this magnificent taste of mine." Carinus motioned to his barber to remove the paint from his face. "Divine countenance!" cried Manlius rapturously. "O you profaners of the sanctuary, who conceal the freckles which the graces have scattered with lavish generosity over these features. Come, friends, let this face be the model of ours." And the courtiers instantly sat down in turn before Marcius and had freckles painted on their faces that they might resemble Carinus. From that moment it was the fashion in Rome to have freckles painted on the face. "Manlius," said the Caesar, "I appoint you Prefect of Rome." All the imperial favourites were supplanted by the young Tribune. Aevius was in despair. "To what shall I henceforth compare the Caesar in my poems, since roses and lilies are no longer beautiful?" he wailed. "Compare him to the royal panther," Manlius advised. And the poet was content. At this moment Mesembrius arrived, and hearing in the atrium that Manlius had already entered, hastened after him. On the threshold he caught a glimpse of the young soldier and started back. "Is that actor Manlius?" he asked himself, gazing at his silk toga and freckled face. "Have you seen Glyceria?" he whispered. "Yes," replied Manlius. "Have you killed her?" "No." "Then I understand the change. Hitherto only caterpillars became butterflies; in you a lion has undergone the change. I pity you."