Page 180 - tender-is-the-night

state like mine, but I would like you to know where I stand.
Last year or whenever it was in Chicago when I got so I
couldn’t speak to servants or walk in the street I kept wait-
ing for some one to tell me. It was the duty of some one who
understood. The blind must be led. Only no one would tell
me everything—they would just tell me half and I was al-
ready too muddled to put two and two together. One man
was nice—he was a French officer and he understood. He
gave me a flower and said it was ‘plus petite et
(2)
moins entendue.’ We were friends. Then he took it away.
I grew sicker and there was no one to explain to me. They
had a song about Joan of Arc that they used to sing at me
but that was just mean—it would just make me cry, for there
was nothing the matter with my head then. They kept mak-
ing reference to sports, too, but I didn’t care by that time. So
there was that day I went walking on Michigan Boulevard
on and on for miles and finally they followed me in an auto-
mobile, but I wouldn’t get
(3)
in. Finally they pulled me in and there were nurses. After
that time I began to realize it all, because I could feel what
was happening in others. So you see how I stand. And what
good can it be for me to stay here with the doctors harp-
ing constantly in the things I was here to get over. So today
I have written my father to come and take me away. I am
glad
(4)
you are so interested in examining people and sending

180 Tender is the Night