She shook her head. "I'm sure she's fine. Can you move just a little to this side? That's fine. I'll clean you up for breakfast." She washed me with a cloth and soap and warm water. "Hold your shoulder up,' she said. "That's fine."
"Can I have the barber before breakfast?"
"I'll send the porter for him." She went out and came back. "He's gone for him," she said and dipped the cloth she held in the basin of water.
The barber came with the porter. He was a man of about fifty with an upturned mustache. Miss Gage was finished with me and went out and the barber lathered my face and shaved. He was very solemn and refrained from talking.
"What's the matter? Don't you know any news?" I asked.
"What news?"
"Any news. What's happened in the town?"
"It is time of war," he said. "The enemy's ears are everywhere."
I looked up at him. "Please hold your face still," he said and went on shaving.
"I will tell nothing."
"What's the matter with you?" I asked.
"I am an Italian. I will not communicate with the enemy."
I let it go at that. If he was crazy, the sooner I could get out from under the razor the better. Once I tried to get a good look at him. "Beware," he said. "The razor is sharp."
I paid him when it was over and tipped him half a lira. He returned the coins. "I will not. I am not at the front. But I am an Italian."
"Get the hell out of here."
