Argosy, September 1955 — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

BRANDY FOR THE COLONEL 61 friendly face with white moustaches and tufted eyebrows, made people automatically wish to confide in him. The story, much of which was already known to him, came pouring forth. Madame Bobet, as guardian, had the right to withhold the dowry of one hundred thousand francs, Julie’s inheri- tance from her late mother, a seamstress from a neighbouring village, until the girl, now nineteen, was twenty-five. Michel, the house-painter, wished to decorate canvases and not barns... For, although the French do not desecrate their highways with billboards, they are far from deaf to the golden voice of adver- tising, as you will have noticed in your travels, and have devised other means of calling attention to the virtues of apéritifs, car batteries, beer, and brandy. This work supported Michel Bavasc and a widowed mother, but stifled his artistic soul. A year or two of study in Paris would put him on the road to success as an artist. ‘‘ But without my dowry, this is impossible,” Julie concluded, ‘““and Madame Bobet refuses to give it to me.” ‘Thereupon the girl fell upon her knees, clasped the hands of Papa Bobet, and prayed, “‘ Oh, please, please help me! I cannot live without Michel.” The old man raised her up and said, ‘‘ There, now. Surely a way may be found. Have I not often told you that in this life all may be satisfactorily arranged? ”’ ‘“ Ah yes,” Julie cried, “ but how? ” The Colonel did not reply to this, for the truth was that at that moment he did not know. Then the silence, which was beginning to grow somewhat embarrassing, was broken by a harsh voice like that of a crow calling from the house. “Julie! It is your bedtime. Come at once, else you won’t be able to get up and do your work in the morning. Francois, what are you up to? You have not laid your hands on some cognac again, have you? ”’ With a little sob, Julie ran off to the back door while Michel sighed and went away. Under the cover of darkness, Colonel Bobet smiled, but without either rancour or bitterness. Get his hands on some cognac, indeed! At long last, Madame Bobet had succeeded in drying up every source. For with the help of a malevolent cousin in the War Office, she had recently succeeded in having the Colonel’s monthly pension paid directly to her. Thus she was able to get her hands on the entire sum before Papa Bobet could make his customary deductions for tobacco and his beloved cognac. comniclbooks.conn