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Updated: June 21, 2025
It may help this infernal ankle of mine." Broussard obeyed orders immediately, and the old song was sung with all the feeling that Broussard could infuse into his fine, rich voice. When it was over, the Colonel said sternly: "Sing another song. Keep on singing until I tell you to quit."
Nobody round this shebang but Sallie an' me. I sure ain't been in yere, an' I reckon it wan't Sallie. So cut it out, young feller. After breakfast you an' I 'll hav' a talk, an' find out a few things. Come on, Broussard, an' let 's talk over that matter o' ours." The two went down the stairs together, and I closed the door of the rear room, and stepped out into the hall.
Colonel Fortescue bore the pain, which was extreme, in grim silence, but Broussard noticed that he stopped smoking and threw away his cigar. It could not soothe him as it did General Moreau. Broussard immediately threw away his cigar, too, which annoyed the Colonel. "Why don't you keep on smoking?" asked the Colonel tartly.
He begged me to keep our relationship secret for the sake of our mother's memory." Colonel Fortescue held out his hand, and grasped that of Broussard. "You speak like a man," he said, "but Lawrence is right in keeping the relationship a secret, and it shows that he understands the height from which he has fallen. Does his wife know of the relationship?" "Yes, sir," Broussard replied.
"Ladies are seldom judicious with horses," answered Broussard, agreeing as always with Colonel Fortescue. "I shall be glad to ride the old horse once more, and thank you very much." In a few minutes, the Colonel's own horse was brought and the two men, mounting, rode off and away from the post for an hour's brisk ride in the late winter afternoon.
When the turbulence calmed down somewhat and sentries were placed to guard the house, she occupied herself in slipping about looking for my hiding place. It took but a little while for her, familiar as she was with the house, to find the room where Broussard and I had taken refuge. Listening at the door she heard our angry voices and the scuffle within. This may have been when I was choking him.
Lawrence, with the divine, unreasoning love of a devoted woman. "Mr. Broussard was not down on your husband," said the chaplain. "True," replied Mrs. Lawrence, and then shut her lips close. If any one wished to know the secret bond between Broussard and Lawrence, one could never find it out from Mrs. Lawrence. Sergeant McGillicuddy could keep from Mrs.
The game chickens, the beloved of Broussard's heart, he presented to another officer, whose wife objected seriously to cock-fighting. The chaplain, seeing the grand piano was about to be thrown away on anybody who could take it, managed to secure it for the men's reading-room. The thing which perplexed Broussard most was, what to do with Gamechick.
A more silent man I never knew, yet courteous and stately withal, and well liked by the men. But it was to Achille Broussard my heart went out in those days of loneliness. His almost childish lightness of disposition and his friendly ways won me completely, and we became fast comrades. A noble looking lad, with the strength of a young Titan, and the blonde curls of a woman.
The affair was clear enough now, except for some few corroborative details. "And someone did come, Broussard?" "Oui, damn queek a fellow with a letter from Philip; eet was sign hees name, hees handwrite, appoint heem overseer." "And what became of him?" The Creole shrugged his shoulders. "'T is not my business, M'sieur. He go way somewhere queek. Maybe he not like ze place."
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