"Why not? Don't you know that the Duke of Tresmes begs my sister to appoint him her monkey. But don't hang your head. Keep that lumpish air for your doctoral uniform. Meanwhile, as you must live on something better than your pills, go and have breakfast with the governor."
"With Zamore? I am not hungry."
"You will be before evening; if we must give you an appetite, we will call in the whipper to the royal pages."
The youth trembled and turned pale.
"Go back to my Lord Zamore," continued Chon, taking the silence for consent, or at least submission. "You will find he is fed daintily. Mind not to be an ingrate, or you will be taught what gratitude is."
A lackey conducted Gilbert to the mock governor's dining-room, but he would not eat anything. Nevertheless, when the costume of the doctor in Molière's comedy was brought, he submitted to being shown how he was to wear it.
"I thought that the doctors of that time carried an inkhorn and a quill to write out their prescriptions," suggested Gilbert.
"By Jove they did!" exclaimed the steward. "Let us have the
**** complete while we are about it."