The duke, who considered himself under obligations for life to
Ambroise Pare, had lately caused him to be appointed chief-surgeon to
the king.
"What is it, monseigneur?" said Ambroise. "Is the king ill? I think it
likely."
"Likely? Why?"
"The queen is too pretty," replied the surgeon.
"Ah!" exclaimed the duke in astonishment. "However, that is not the
matter now," he added after a pause. "Ambroise, I want you to see
a friend of yours." So saying he drew him to the door of the
council-room, and showed him Christophe.
"Ha! true, monseigneur," cried the surgeon, extending his hand to the
young furrier. "How is your father, my lad?"
"Very well, Maitre Ambroise," replied Christophe.
"What are you doing at court?" asked the surgeon. "It is not your
business to carry parcels; your father intends you for the law. Do you
want the protection of these two great princes to make you a
solicitor?"
"Indeed I do!" said Christophe; "but I am here only in the interests
of my father; and if you could intercede for us, please do so," he
added in a piteous tone; "and ask the Grand Master for an order to pay
certain sums that are due to my father, for he is at his wit's end
just now for money.
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