Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 95: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

> 2 \ »- LOVE OF SEVEN DOLLS 93 “Don’t trust anyone. I am a woman, and believe me, I know what I am talking about.”’ “ But they were all so kind,’’ Mouche protested. ‘“Hah! That’s just how they doit. I am Madame Muscat, the concierge here. I know everything that goes on. You look as though you might be a respectable girl. The things I could tell you! They’re all a bad lot, and if you take my advice, you won’t have anything to do with them.” Mouche was not one to listen to gossip and Madame Muscat was exactly like all the concierges she had ever known. Neverthe- less, she felt a pang, the kind one experiences when ill is spoken of dear friends. She cried, ‘“‘ Oh, surely that can’t be so...” Golo went by, carrying the trunk on his shoulders. He paused and said reprovingly: ‘‘ You oughtn’t to say things like that, Madame Muscat. They ain’t really so bad. They just young and a little wild.’””’ To Mouche he said reassuringly, “‘ Don’t you pay her any attention, Miss. Wait until I put her in this trunk again. That will keep her quiet.” Madame Muscat gave a little shriek at the threat and ducked quickly beneath the counter as Golo went on behind the booth. In her place there appeared then finally one more puppet, an old gentleman who wore square, steel-rimmed spectacles, a stocking- cap, and leather apron. The expression painted on his face con- trived sometimes to be quizzical and friendly, at others, when he moved his head, searching and benign. For a moment he appeared to look right through Mouche. Then in a gentle voice he spoke to her, saying, ‘‘ Good evening to you. My name is Monsieur Nicholas. I am a maker and mender of toys. My child, I can see you are in trouble. Behind your eyes are many more tears than you have shed.” Mouche’s hand flew to her throat because of the ache that had come to lodge there. It had been so long since anyone had called - ' : “~ ¢ 7 a Se — Oy, me iS ?* y rae " & her “ child.” Monsieur Nicholas said, ‘‘ Perhaps you would care to tell me about it?” F Golo appeared again. He said, ‘‘ You tell him, Miss. He is a ; good man. Everybody who has troubles tells them to Monsieur Nicholas.” > Now the tears came swiftly to Mouche’s eyes, and with their flow, something loosened inside her so that as she stood in the garish light before the shabby puppet booth, with the single ani- mated wooden doll listening so attentively to her, the story of her trials and failures poured from her in moving innocence, for she could not have confessed it thus to any human. When she had reached the end of her unhappy tale, Monsieur Nicholas concluded for her, “*. .. And so you were going to throw yourself into the Seine tonight.”’ Mouche stared, marvelling. ‘“‘ How did you know? ” “It was not hard to tell. There is nothing to seek for one as young as you at the bottom of the river.”’ comicloooks.comn