Vitelius stopped half-way in his laughter, and smacking his lips, shining from fat and sauces, looked at those present with as much astonishment as if he had never seen them before; then he raised his two hands, which were like cushions, and said in a hoarse voice,—"The ring of a knight has fallen from my finger, and it was inherited from my father."
"Who was a tailor," added Nero.