Page 338 - tender-is-the-night

three times before a sleepy English porter opened the door
to her.
‘I want to see some one,’ she said. ‘Any one—but right
away.’
‘No one’s awake, Madame. We don’t open until nine
o’clock.’
Impatiently she waved the hour away.
‘This is important. A man—an American has been ter-
ribly beaten. He’s in an Italian jail.’
‘No one’s awake now. At nine o’clock—‘
‘I can’t wait. They’ve put out a man’s eye—my brother-in-
law, and they won’t let him out of jail. I must talk to some
one—can’t you see? Are you crazy? Are you an idiot, you
stand there with that look in your face?’
‘Hime unable to do anything, Madame.’
‘You’ve got to wake some one up!’ She seized him by the
shoulders and jerked him violently. ‘It’s a matter of life and
death. If you won’t wake some one a terrible thing will hap-
pen to you—‘
‘Kindly don’t lay hands on me, Madame.’
From above and behind the porter floated down a weary
Groton voice.
‘What is it there?’
The porter answered with relief.
‘It’s a lady, sir, and she has shook me.’ He had stepped
back to speak and Baby pushed forward into the hall. On
an upper landing, just aroused from sleep and wrapped in
a white embroidered Persian robe, stood a singular young
man. His face was of a monstrous and unnatural pink, vivid

338 Tender is the Night