‘But I will tell you this, mon vieux. I don't have a phone in my room. I will come later to see you, Melusine. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He embraced her like her father once had. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. You have been her guardian angel. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning.
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