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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Daisy Miller
+
+Author: Henry James
+
+Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #208]
+Last Updated: September 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY MILLER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+DAISY MILLER: A STUDY
+
+IN TWO PARTS
+
+The text is that of the first American appearance in book form, 1879.
+
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a particularly
+comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels, for the entertainment
+of tourists is the business of the place, which, as many travelers will
+remember, is seated upon the edge of a remarkably blue lake--a lake that
+it behooves every tourist to visit. The shore of the lake presents an
+unbroken array of establishments of this order, of every category, from
+the “grand hotel” of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front, a
+hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof, to the little
+Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name inscribed in German-looking
+lettering upon a pink or yellow wall and an awkward summerhouse in the
+angle of the garden. One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous,
+even classical, being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors
+by an air both of luxury and of maturity. In this region, in the month
+of June, American travelers are extremely numerous; it may be said,
+indeed, that Vevey assumes at this period some of the characteristics
+of an American watering place. There are sights and sounds which evoke a
+vision, an echo, of Newport and Saratoga. There is a flitting hither
+and thither of “stylish” young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces,
+a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of high-pitched
+voices at all times. You receive an impression of these things at the
+excellent inn of the “Trois Couronnes” and are transported in fancy to
+the Ocean House or to Congress Hall. But at the “Trois Couronnes,” it
+must be added, there are other features that are much at variance with
+these suggestions: neat German waiters, who look like secretaries of
+legation; Russian princesses sitting in the garden; little Polish boys
+walking about held by the hand, with their governors; a view of the
+sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and the picturesque towers of the Castle
+of Chillon.
+
+I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
+uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
+sat in the garden of the “Trois Couronnes,” looking about him, rather
+idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned. It was a
+beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young American
+looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming. He had come
+from Geneva the day before by the little steamer, to see his aunt, who
+was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been for a long time his place
+of residence. But his aunt had a headache--his aunt had almost always a
+headache--and now she was shut up in her room, smelling camphor, so that
+he was at liberty to wander about. He was some seven-and-twenty years
+of age; when his friends spoke of him, they usually said that he was at
+Geneva “studying.” When his enemies spoke of him, they said--but,
+after all, he had no enemies; he was an extremely amiable fellow, and
+universally liked. What I should say is, simply, that when certain
+persons spoke of him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so
+much time at Geneva was that he was extremely devoted to a lady who
+lived there--a foreign lady--a person older than himself. Very few
+Americans--indeed, I think none--had ever seen this lady, about whom
+there were some singular stories. But Winterbourne had an old attachment
+for the little metropolis of Calvinism; he had been put to school there
+as a boy, and he had afterward gone to college there--circumstances
+which had led to his forming a great many youthful friendships. Many of
+these he had kept, and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
+
+After knocking at his aunt’s door and learning that she was indisposed,
+he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to his
+breakfast. He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking a
+small cup of coffee, which had been served to him on a little table in
+the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache. At last
+he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. Presently a small boy came
+walking along the path--an urchin of nine or ten. The child, who was
+diminutive for his years, had an aged expression of countenance, a pale
+complexion, and sharp little features. He was dressed in knickerbockers,
+with red stockings, which displayed his poor little spindle-shanks;
+he also wore a brilliant red cravat. He carried in his hand a long
+alpenstock, the sharp point of which he thrust into everything that
+he approached--the flowerbeds, the garden benches, the trains of the
+ladies’ dresses. In front of Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with
+a pair of bright, penetrating little eyes.
+
+“Will you give me a lump of sugar?” he asked in a sharp, hard little
+voice--a voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
+
+Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
+service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained. “Yes,
+you may take one,” he answered; “but I don’t think sugar is good for
+little boys.”
+
+This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of
+the coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of his
+knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place. He
+poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne’s bench and tried
+to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
+
+“Oh, blazes; it’s har-r-d!” he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective in a
+peculiar manner.
+
+Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might have the honor
+of claiming him as a fellow countryman. “Take care you don’t hurt your
+teeth,” he said, paternally.
+
+“I haven’t got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out. I have only
+got seven teeth. My mother counted them last night, and one came out
+right afterward. She said she’d slap me if any more came out. I can’t
+help it. It’s this old Europe. It’s the climate that makes them come
+out. In America they didn’t come out. It’s these hotels.”
+
+Winterbourne was much amused. “If you eat three lumps of sugar, your
+mother will certainly slap you,” he said.
+
+“She’s got to give me some candy, then,” rejoined his young
+interlocutor. “I can’t get any candy here--any American candy. American
+candy’s the best candy.”
+
+“And are American little boys the best little boys?” asked Winterbourne.
+
+“I don’t know. I’m an American boy,” said the child.
+
+“I see you are one of the best!” laughed Winterbourne.
+
+“Are you an American man?” pursued this vivacious infant. And then,
+on Winterbourne’s affirmative reply--“American men are the best,” he
+declared.
+
+His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child, who had
+now got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking about him, while he
+attacked a second lump of sugar. Winterbourne wondered if he himself
+had been like this in his infancy, for he had been brought to Europe at
+about this age.
+
+“Here comes my sister!” cried the child in a moment. “She’s an American
+girl.”
+
+Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful young lady
+advancing. “American girls are the best girls,” he said cheerfully to
+his young companion.
+
+“My sister ain’t the best!” the child declared. “She’s always blowing at
+me.”
+
+“I imagine that is your fault, not hers,” said Winterbourne. The young
+lady meanwhile had drawn near. She was dressed in white muslin, with a
+hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon. She was
+bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol, with a deep
+border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty. “How
+pretty they are!” thought Winterbourne, straightening himself in his
+seat, as if he were prepared to rise.
+
+The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the
+garden, which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his
+alpenstock into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing
+about in the gravel and kicking it up not a little.
+
+“Randolph,” said the young lady, “what ARE you doing?”
+
+“I’m going up the Alps,” replied Randolph. “This is the way!” And he
+gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles about Winterbourne’s
+ears.
+
+“That’s the way they come down,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“He’s an American man!” cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
+
+The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked straight
+at her brother. “Well, I guess you had better be quiet,” she simply
+observed.
+
+It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He
+got up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his
+cigarette. “This little boy and I have made acquaintance,” he said, with
+great civility. In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young
+man was not at liberty to speak to a young unmarried lady except under
+certain rarely occurring conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions
+could be better than these?--a pretty American girl coming and standing
+in front of you in a garden. This pretty American girl, however, on
+hearing Winterbourne’s observation, simply glanced at him; she then
+turned her head and looked over the parapet, at the lake and the
+opposite mountains. He wondered whether he had gone too far, but he
+decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat. While he was
+thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned to the little
+boy again.
+
+“I should like to know where you got that pole,” she said.
+
+“I bought it,” responded Randolph.
+
+“You don’t mean to say you’re going to take it to Italy?”
+
+“Yes, I am going to take it to Italy,” the child declared.
+
+The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a
+knot or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
+“Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere,” she said after a
+moment.
+
+“Are you going to Italy?” Winterbourne inquired in a tone of great
+respect.
+
+The young lady glanced at him again. “Yes, sir,” she replied. And she
+said nothing more.
+
+“Are you--a--going over the Simplon?” Winterbourne pursued, a little
+embarrassed.
+
+“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it’s some mountain. Randolph, what
+mountain are we going over?”
+
+“Going where?” the child demanded.
+
+“To Italy,” Winterbourne explained.
+
+“I don’t know,” said Randolph. “I don’t want to go to Italy. I want to
+go to America.”
+
+“Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!” rejoined the young man.
+
+“Can you get candy there?” Randolph loudly inquired.
+
+“I hope not,” said his sister. “I guess you have had enough candy, and
+mother thinks so too.”
+
+“I haven’t had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!” cried the
+boy, still jumping about.
+
+The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
+and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty of the
+view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun to perceive
+that she was not in the least embarrassed herself. There had not been
+the slightest alteration in her charming complexion; she was evidently
+neither offended nor flattered. If she looked another way when he spoke
+to her, and seemed not particularly to hear him, this was simply her
+habit, her manner. Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some
+of the objects of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite
+unacquainted, she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance;
+and then he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking.
+It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance,
+for the young girl’s eyes were singularly honest and fresh. They were
+wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not seen for
+a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman’s various
+features--her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth. He had a great
+relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to observing and analyzing
+it; and as regards this young lady’s face he made several observations.
+It was not at all insipid, but it was not exactly expressive; and
+though it was eminently delicate, Winterbourne mentally accused it--very
+forgivingly--of a want of finish. He thought it very possible that
+Master Randolph’s sister was a coquette; he was sure she had a spirit of
+her own; but in her bright, sweet, superficial little visage there was
+no mockery, no irony. Before long it became obvious that she was much
+disposed toward conversation. She told him that they were going to Rome
+for the winter--she and her mother and Randolph. She asked him if he was
+a “real American”; she shouldn’t have taken him for one; he seemed more
+like a German--this was said after a little hesitation--especially when
+he spoke. Winterbourne, laughing, answered that he had met Germans who
+spoke like Americans, but that he had not, so far as he remembered, met
+an American who spoke like a German. Then he asked her if she should not
+be more comfortable in sitting upon the bench which he had just quitted.
+She answered that she liked standing up and walking about; but she
+presently sat down. She told him she was from New York State--“if you
+know where that is.” Winterbourne learned more about her by catching
+hold of her small, slippery brother and making him stand a few minutes
+by his side.
+
+“Tell me your name, my boy,” he said.
+
+“Randolph C. Miller,” said the boy sharply. “And I’ll tell you her
+name;” and he leveled his alpenstock at his sister.
+
+“You had better wait till you are asked!” said this young lady calmly.
+
+“I should like very much to know your name,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Her name is Daisy Miller!” cried the child. “But that isn’t her real
+name; that isn’t her name on her cards.”
+
+“It’s a pity you haven’t got one of my cards!” said Miss Miller.
+
+“Her real name is Annie P. Miller,” the boy went on.
+
+“Ask him HIS name,” said his sister, indicating Winterbourne.
+
+But on this point Randolph seemed perfectly indifferent; he continued to
+supply information with regard to his own family. “My father’s name is
+Ezra B. Miller,” he announced. “My father ain’t in Europe; my father’s
+in a better place than Europe.”
+
+Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in which the
+child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller had been removed to
+the sphere of celestial reward. But Randolph immediately added, “My
+father’s in Schenectady. He’s got a big business. My father’s rich, you
+bet!”
+
+“Well!” ejaculated Miss Miller, lowering her parasol and looking at
+the embroidered border. Winterbourne presently released the child,
+who departed, dragging his alpenstock along the path. “He doesn’t like
+Europe,” said the young girl. “He wants to go back.”
+
+“To Schenectady, you mean?”
+
+“Yes; he wants to go right home. He hasn’t got any boys here. There is
+one boy here, but he always goes round with a teacher; they won’t let
+him play.”
+
+“And your brother hasn’t any teacher?” Winterbourne inquired.
+
+“Mother thought of getting him one, to travel round with us. There was a
+lady told her of a very good teacher; an American lady--perhaps you know
+her--Mrs. Sanders. I think she came from Boston. She told her of this
+teacher, and we thought of getting him to travel round with us. But
+Randolph said he didn’t want a teacher traveling round with us. He said
+he wouldn’t have lessons when he was in the cars. And we ARE in the cars
+about half the time. There was an English lady we met in the cars--I
+think her name was Miss Featherstone; perhaps you know her. She wanted
+to know why I didn’t give Randolph lessons--give him ‘instruction,’ she
+called it. I guess he could give me more instruction than I could give
+him. He’s very smart.”
+
+“Yes,” said Winterbourne; “he seems very smart.”
+
+“Mother’s going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy. Can
+you get good teachers in Italy?”
+
+“Very good, I should think,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Or else she’s going to find some school. He ought to learn some more.
+He’s only nine. He’s going to college.” And in this way Miss Miller
+continued to converse upon the affairs of her family and upon other
+topics. She sat there with her extremely pretty hands, ornamented with
+very brilliant rings, folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now
+resting upon those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden, the
+people who passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to Winterbourne
+as if she had known him a long time. He found it very pleasant. It was
+many years since he had heard a young girl talk so much. It might have
+been said of this unknown young lady, who had come and sat down beside
+him upon a bench, that she chattered. She was very quiet; she sat in a
+charming, tranquil attitude; but her lips and her eyes were constantly
+moving. She had a soft, slender, agreeable voice, and her tone was
+decidedly sociable. She gave Winterbourne a history of her movements
+and intentions and those of her mother and brother, in Europe, and
+enumerated, in particular, the various hotels at which they had stopped.
+“That English lady in the cars,” she said--“Miss Featherstone--asked me
+if we didn’t all live in hotels in America. I told her I had never been
+in so many hotels in my life as since I came to Europe. I have never
+seen so many--it’s nothing but hotels.” But Miss Miller did not make
+this remark with a querulous accent; she appeared to be in the best
+humor with everything. She declared that the hotels were very good, when
+once you got used to their ways, and that Europe was perfectly sweet.
+She was not disappointed--not a bit. Perhaps it was because she had
+heard so much about it before. She had ever so many intimate friends
+that had been there ever so many times. And then she had had ever so
+many dresses and things from Paris. Whenever she put on a Paris dress
+she felt as if she were in Europe.
+
+“It was a kind of a wishing cap,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Yes,” said Miss Miller without examining this analogy; “it always made
+me wish I was here. But I needn’t have done that for dresses. I am sure
+they send all the pretty ones to America; you see the most frightful
+things here. The only thing I don’t like,” she proceeded, “is the
+society. There isn’t any society; or, if there is, I don’t know where it
+keeps itself. Do you? I suppose there is some society somewhere, but I
+haven’t seen anything of it. I’m very fond of society, and I have always
+had a great deal of it. I don’t mean only in Schenectady, but in New
+York. I used to go to New York every winter. In New York I had lots of
+society. Last winter I had seventeen dinners given me; and three of them
+were by gentlemen,” added Daisy Miller. “I have more friends in New York
+than in Schenectady--more gentleman friends; and more young lady friends
+too,” she resumed in a moment. She paused again for an instant; she was
+looking at Winterbourne with all her prettiness in her lively eyes and
+in her light, slightly monotonous smile. “I have always had,” she said,
+“a great deal of gentlemen’s society.”
+
+Poor Winterbourne was amused, perplexed, and decidedly charmed. He
+had never yet heard a young girl express herself in just this fashion;
+never, at least, save in cases where to say such things seemed a kind of
+demonstrative evidence of a certain laxity of deportment. And yet was he
+to accuse Miss Daisy Miller of actual or potential inconduite, as they
+said at Geneva? He felt that he had lived at Geneva so long that he
+had lost a good deal; he had become dishabituated to the American tone.
+Never, indeed, since he had grown old enough to appreciate things, had
+he encountered a young American girl of so pronounced a type as this.
+Certainly she was very charming, but how deucedly sociable! Was she
+simply a pretty girl from New York State? Were they all like that, the
+pretty girls who had a good deal of gentlemen’s society? Or was she also
+a designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person? Winterbourne
+had lost his instinct in this matter, and his reason could not help him.
+Miss Daisy Miller looked extremely innocent. Some people had told him
+that, after all, American girls were exceedingly innocent; and others
+had told him that, after all, they were not. He was inclined to think
+Miss Daisy Miller was a flirt--a pretty American flirt. He had never, as
+yet, had any relations with young ladies of this category. He had
+known, here in Europe, two or three women--persons older than Miss Daisy
+Miller, and provided, for respectability’s sake, with husbands--who were
+great coquettes--dangerous, terrible women, with whom one’s relations
+were liable to take a serious turn. But this young girl was not a
+coquette in that sense; she was very unsophisticated; she was only a
+pretty American flirt. Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found
+the formula that applied to Miss Daisy Miller. He leaned back in his
+seat; he remarked to himself that she had the most charming nose he had
+ever seen; he wondered what were the regular conditions and limitations
+of one’s intercourse with a pretty American flirt. It presently became
+apparent that he was on the way to learn.
+
+“Have you been to that old castle?” asked the young girl, pointing with
+her parasol to the far-gleaming walls of the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+“Yes, formerly, more than once,” said Winterbourne. “You too, I suppose,
+have seen it?”
+
+“No; we haven’t been there. I want to go there dreadfully. Of course I
+mean to go there. I wouldn’t go away from here without having seen that
+old castle.”
+
+“It’s a very pretty excursion,” said Winterbourne, “and very easy to
+make. You can drive, you know, or you can go by the little steamer.”
+
+“You can go in the cars,” said Miss Miller.
+
+“Yes; you can go in the cars,” Winterbourne assented.
+
+“Our courier says they take you right up to the castle,” the young girl
+continued. “We were going last week, but my mother gave out. She suffers
+dreadfully from dyspepsia. She said she couldn’t go. Randolph wouldn’t
+go either; he says he doesn’t think much of old castles. But I guess
+we’ll go this week, if we can get Randolph.”
+
+“Your brother is not interested in ancient monuments?” Winterbourne
+inquired, smiling.
+
+“He says he don’t care much about old castles. He’s only nine. He
+wants to stay at the hotel. Mother’s afraid to leave him alone, and the
+courier won’t stay with him; so we haven’t been to many places. But it
+will be too bad if we don’t go up there.” And Miss Miller pointed again
+at the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+“I should think it might be arranged,” said Winterbourne. “Couldn’t you
+get some one to stay for the afternoon with Randolph?”
+
+Miss Miller looked at him a moment, and then, very placidly, “I wish YOU
+would stay with him!” she said.
+
+Winterbourne hesitated a moment. “I should much rather go to Chillon
+with you.”
+
+“With me?” asked the young girl with the same placidity.
+
+She didn’t rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done;
+and yet Winterbourne, conscious that he had been very bold, thought
+it possible she was offended. “With your mother,” he answered very
+respectfully.
+
+But it seemed that both his audacity and his respect were lost upon Miss
+Daisy Miller. “I guess my mother won’t go, after all,” she said. “She
+don’t like to ride round in the afternoon. But did you really mean what
+you said just now--that you would like to go up there?”
+
+“Most earnestly,” Winterbourne declared.
+
+“Then we may arrange it. If mother will stay with Randolph, I guess
+Eugenio will.”
+
+“Eugenio?” the young man inquired.
+
+“Eugenio’s our courier. He doesn’t like to stay with Randolph; he’s the
+most fastidious man I ever saw. But he’s a splendid courier. I guess
+he’ll stay at home with Randolph if mother does, and then we can go to
+the castle.”
+
+Winterbourne reflected for an instant as lucidly as possible--“we” could
+only mean Miss Daisy Miller and himself. This program seemed almost too
+agreeable for credence; he felt as if he ought to kiss the young lady’s
+hand. Possibly he would have done so and quite spoiled the project, but
+at this moment another person, presumably Eugenio, appeared. A tall,
+handsome man, with superb whiskers, wearing a velvet morning coat and
+a brilliant watch chain, approached Miss Miller, looking sharply at her
+companion. “Oh, Eugenio!” said Miss Miller with the friendliest accent.
+
+Eugenio had looked at Winterbourne from head to foot; he now bowed
+gravely to the young lady. “I have the honor to inform mademoiselle that
+luncheon is upon the table.”
+
+Miss Miller slowly rose. “See here, Eugenio!” she said; “I’m going to
+that old castle, anyway.”
+
+“To the Chateau de Chillon, mademoiselle?” the courier inquired.
+“Mademoiselle has made arrangements?” he added in a tone which struck
+Winterbourne as very impertinent.
+
+Eugenio’s tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller’s own apprehension,
+a slightly ironical light upon the young girl’s situation. She turned
+to Winterbourne, blushing a little--a very little. “You won’t back out?”
+ she said.
+
+“I shall not be happy till we go!” he protested.
+
+“And you are staying in this hotel?” she went on. “And you are really an
+American?”
+
+The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively. The young man,
+at least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller; it
+conveyed an imputation that she “picked up” acquaintances. “I shall have
+the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,”
+ he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.
+
+“Oh, well, we’ll go some day,” said Miss Miller. And she gave him a
+smile and turned away. She put up her parasol and walked back to the inn
+beside Eugenio. Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved
+away, drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself that
+she had the tournure of a princess.
+
+He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising
+to present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller. As soon as the
+former lady had got better of her headache, he waited upon her in her
+apartment; and, after the proper inquiries in regard to her health, he
+asked her if she had observed in the hotel an American family--a mamma,
+a daughter, and a little boy.
+
+“And a courier?” said Mrs. Costello. “Oh yes, I have observed them. Seen
+them--heard them--and kept out of their way.” Mrs. Costello was a widow
+with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently intimated
+that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches, she would
+probably have left a deeper impress upon her time. She had a long, pale
+face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white hair, which
+she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head. She had
+two sons married in New York and another who was now in Europe. This
+young man was amusing himself at Hamburg, and, though he was on his
+travels, was rarely perceived to visit any particular city at the moment
+selected by his mother for her own appearance there. Her nephew, who had
+come up to Vevey expressly to see her, was therefore more attentive than
+those who, as she said, were nearer to her. He had imbibed at Geneva the
+idea that one must always be attentive to one’s aunt. Mrs. Costello
+had not seen him for many years, and she was greatly pleased with him,
+manifesting her approbation by initiating him into many of the secrets
+of that social sway which, as she gave him to understand, she exerted in
+the American capital. She admitted that she was very exclusive; but, if
+he were acquainted with New York, he would see that one had to be. And
+her picture of the minutely hierarchical constitution of the society of
+that city, which she presented to him in many different lights, was, to
+Winterbourne’s imagination, almost oppressively striking.
+
+He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller’s place
+in the social scale was low. “I am afraid you don’t approve of them,” he
+said.
+
+“They are very common,” Mrs. Costello declared. “They are the sort of
+Americans that one does one’s duty by not--not accepting.”
+
+“Ah, you don’t accept them?” said the young man.
+
+“I can’t, my dear Frederick. I would if I could, but I can’t.”
+
+“The young girl is very pretty,” said Winterbourne in a moment.
+
+“Of course she’s pretty. But she is very common.”
+
+“I see what you mean, of course,” said Winterbourne after another pause.
+
+“She has that charming look that they all have,” his aunt resumed. “I
+can’t think where they pick it up; and she dresses in perfection--no,
+you don’t know how well she dresses. I can’t think where they get their
+taste.”
+
+“But, my dear aunt, she is not, after all, a Comanche savage.”
+
+“She is a young lady,” said Mrs. Costello, “who has an intimacy with her
+mamma’s courier.”
+
+“An intimacy with the courier?” the young man demanded.
+
+“Oh, the mother is just as bad! They treat the courier like a familiar
+friend--like a gentleman. I shouldn’t wonder if he dines with them.
+Very likely they have never seen a man with such good manners, such
+fine clothes, so like a gentleman. He probably corresponds to the young
+lady’s idea of a count. He sits with them in the garden in the evening.
+I think he smokes.”
+
+Winterbourne listened with interest to these disclosures; they helped
+him to make up his mind about Miss Daisy. Evidently she was rather wild.
+“Well,” he said, “I am not a courier, and yet she was very charming to
+me.”
+
+“You had better have said at first,” said Mrs. Costello with dignity,
+“that you had made her acquaintance.”
+
+“We simply met in the garden, and we talked a bit.”
+
+“Tout bonnement! And pray what did you say?”
+
+“I said I should take the liberty of introducing her to my admirable
+aunt.”
+
+“I am much obliged to you.”
+
+“It was to guarantee my respectability,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“And pray who is to guarantee hers?”
+
+“Ah, you are cruel!” said the young man. “She’s a very nice young girl.”
+
+“You don’t say that as if you believed it,” Mrs. Costello observed.
+
+“She is completely uncultivated,” Winterbourne went on. “But she is
+wonderfully pretty, and, in short, she is very nice. To prove that I
+believe it, I am going to take her to the Chateau de Chillon.”
+
+“You two are going off there together? I should say it proved just the
+contrary. How long had you known her, may I ask, when this interesting
+project was formed? You haven’t been twenty-four hours in the house.”
+
+“I have known her half an hour!” said Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+“Dear me!” cried Mrs. Costello. “What a dreadful girl!”
+
+Her nephew was silent for some moments. “You really think, then,” he
+began earnestly, and with a desire for trustworthy information--“you
+really think that--” But he paused again.
+
+“Think what, sir?” said his aunt.
+
+“That she is the sort of young lady who expects a man, sooner or later,
+to carry her off?”
+
+“I haven’t the least idea what such young ladies expect a man to do. But
+I really think that you had better not meddle with little American girls
+that are uncultivated, as you call them. You have lived too long out of
+the country. You will be sure to make some great mistake. You are too
+innocent.”
+
+“My dear aunt, I am not so innocent,” said Winterbourne, smiling and
+curling his mustache.
+
+“You are guilty too, then!”
+
+Winterbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively. “You won’t let
+the poor girl know you then?” he asked at last.
+
+“Is it literally true that she is going to the Chateau de Chillon with
+you?”
+
+“I think that she fully intends it.”
+
+“Then, my dear Frederick,” said Mrs. Costello, “I must decline the honor
+of her acquaintance. I am an old woman, but I am not too old, thank
+Heaven, to be shocked!”
+
+“But don’t they all do these things--the young girls in America?”
+ Winterbourne inquired.
+
+Mrs. Costello stared a moment. “I should like to see my granddaughters
+do them!” she declared grimly.
+
+This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for Winterbourne
+remembered to have heard that his pretty cousins in New York were
+“tremendous flirts.” If, therefore, Miss Daisy Miller exceeded the
+liberal margin allowed to these young ladies, it was probable that
+anything might be expected of her. Winterbourne was impatient to see her
+again, and he was vexed with himself that, by instinct, he should not
+appreciate her justly.
+
+Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should say
+to her about his aunt’s refusal to become acquainted with her; but he
+discovered, promptly enough, that with Miss Daisy Miller there was
+no great need of walking on tiptoe. He found her that evening in the
+garden, wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolent sylph,
+and swinging to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld. It was ten
+o’clock. He had dined with his aunt, had been sitting with her since
+dinner, and had just taken leave of her till the morrow. Miss Daisy
+Miller seemed very glad to see him; she declared it was the longest
+evening she had ever passed.
+
+“Have you been all alone?” he asked.
+
+“I have been walking round with mother. But mother gets tired walking
+round,” she answered.
+
+“Has she gone to bed?”
+
+“No; she doesn’t like to go to bed,” said the young girl. “She doesn’t
+sleep--not three hours. She says she doesn’t know how she lives. She’s
+dreadfully nervous. I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She’s gone
+somewhere after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed. He
+doesn’t like to go to bed.”
+
+“Let us hope she will persuade him,” observed Winterbourne.
+
+“She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn’t like her to talk
+to him,” said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. “She’s going to try to get
+Eugenio to talk to him. But he isn’t afraid of Eugenio. Eugenio’s a
+splendid courier, but he can’t make much impression on Randolph! I don’t
+believe he’ll go to bed before eleven.” It appeared that Randolph’s
+vigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged, for Winterbourne strolled
+about with the young girl for some time without meeting her mother. “I
+have been looking round for that lady you want to introduce me to,” his
+companion resumed. “She’s your aunt.” Then, on Winterbourne’s admitting
+the fact and expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it, she
+said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid. She was
+very quiet and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no
+one, and she never dined at the table d’hote. Every two days she had a
+headache. “I think that’s a lovely description, headache and all!” said
+Miss Daisy, chattering along in her thin, gay voice. “I want to know her
+ever so much. I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like
+her. She would be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive; I’m
+dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive, mother and I. We
+don’t speak to everyone--or they don’t speak to us. I suppose it’s about
+the same thing. Anyway, I shall be ever so glad to know your aunt.”
+
+Winterbourne was embarrassed. “She would be most happy,” he said; “but I
+am afraid those headaches will interfere.”
+
+The young girl looked at him through the dusk. “But I suppose she
+doesn’t have a headache every day,” she said sympathetically.
+
+Winterbourne was silent a moment. “She tells me she does,” he answered
+at last, not knowing what to say.
+
+Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness was
+still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her enormous
+fan. “She doesn’t want to know me!” she said suddenly. “Why don’t you
+say so? You needn’t be afraid. I’m not afraid!” And she gave a little
+laugh.
+
+Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice; he was touched,
+shocked, mortified by it. “My dear young lady,” he protested, “she knows
+no one. It’s her wretched health.”
+
+The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. “You needn’t be
+afraid,” she repeated. “Why should she want to know me?” Then she paused
+again; she was close to the parapet of the garden, and in front of her
+was the starlit lake. There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in
+the distance were dimly seen mountain forms. Daisy Miller looked out
+upon the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh.
+“Gracious! she IS exclusive!” she said. Winterbourne wondered whether
+she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense
+of injury might be such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to
+reassure and comfort her. He had a pleasant sense that she would be very
+approachable for consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant,
+quite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit that she
+was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn’t mind her.
+But before he had time to commit himself to this perilous mixture
+of gallantry and impiety, the young lady, resuming her walk, gave an
+exclamation in quite another tone. “Well, here’s Mother! I guess she
+hasn’t got Randolph to go to bed.” The figure of a lady appeared at a
+distance, very indistinct in the darkness, and advancing with a slow and
+wavering movement. Suddenly it seemed to pause.
+
+“Are you sure it is your mother? Can you distinguish her in this thick
+dusk?” Winterbourne asked.
+
+“Well!” cried Miss Daisy Miller with a laugh; “I guess I know my own
+mother. And when she has got on my shawl, too! She is always wearing my
+things.”
+
+The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot
+at which she had checked her steps.
+
+“I am afraid your mother doesn’t see you,” said Winterbourne.
+“Or perhaps,” he added, thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke
+permissible--“perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl.”
+
+“Oh, it’s a fearful old thing!” the young girl replied serenely. “I told
+her she could wear it. She won’t come here because she sees you.”
+
+“Ah, then,” said Winterbourne, “I had better leave you.”
+
+“Oh, no; come on!” urged Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+“I’m afraid your mother doesn’t approve of my walking with you.”
+
+Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. “It isn’t for me; it’s for
+you--that is, it’s for HER. Well, I don’t know who it’s for! But mother
+doesn’t like any of my gentlemen friends. She’s right down timid. She
+always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce
+them--almost always. If I didn’t introduce my gentlemen friends to
+Mother,” the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, “I
+shouldn’t think I was natural.”
+
+“To introduce me,” said Winterbourne, “you must know my name.” And he
+proceeded to pronounce it.
+
+“Oh, dear, I can’t say all that!” said his companion with a laugh. But
+by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near,
+walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently
+at the lake and turning her back to them. “Mother!” said the young
+girl in a tone of decision. Upon this the elder lady turned round. “Mr.
+Winterbourne,” said Miss Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very
+frankly and prettily. “Common,” she was, as Mrs. Costello had pronounced
+her; yet it was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness, she
+had a singularly delicate grace.
+
+Her mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye,
+a very exiguous nose, and a large forehead, decorated with a certain
+amount of thin, much frizzled hair. Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was
+dressed with extreme elegance; she had enormous diamonds in her ears.
+So far as Winterbourne could observe, she gave him no greeting--she
+certainly was not looking at him. Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl
+straight. “What are you doing, poking round here?” this young lady
+inquired, but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice
+of words may imply.
+
+“I don’t know,” said her mother, turning toward the lake again.
+
+“I shouldn’t think you’d want that shawl!” Daisy exclaimed.
+
+“Well I do!” her mother answered with a little laugh.
+
+“Did you get Randolph to go to bed?” asked the young girl.
+
+“No; I couldn’t induce him,” said Mrs. Miller very gently. “He wants to
+talk to the waiter. He likes to talk to that waiter.”
+
+“I was telling Mr. Winterbourne,” the young girl went on; and to the
+young man’s ear her tone might have indicated that she had been uttering
+his name all her life.
+
+“Oh, yes!” said Winterbourne; “I have the pleasure of knowing your son.”
+
+Randolph’s mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake. But
+at last she spoke. “Well, I don’t see how he lives!”
+
+“Anyhow, it isn’t so bad as it was at Dover,” said Daisy Miller.
+
+“And what occurred at Dover?” Winterbourne asked.
+
+“He wouldn’t go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public
+parlor. He wasn’t in bed at twelve o’clock: I know that.”
+
+“It was half-past twelve,” declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis.
+
+“Does he sleep much during the day?” Winterbourne demanded.
+
+“I guess he doesn’t sleep much,” Daisy rejoined.
+
+“I wish he would!” said her mother. “It seems as if he couldn’t.”
+
+“I think he’s real tiresome,” Daisy pursued.
+
+Then, for some moments, there was silence. “Well, Daisy Miller,” said
+the elder lady, presently, “I shouldn’t think you’d want to talk against
+your own brother!”
+
+“Well, he IS tiresome, Mother,” said Daisy, quite without the asperity
+of a retort.
+
+“He’s only nine,” urged Mrs. Miller.
+
+“Well, he wouldn’t go to that castle,” said the young girl. “I’m going
+there with Mr. Winterbourne.”
+
+To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisy’s mamma offered no
+response. Winterbourne took for granted that she deeply disapproved of
+the projected excursion; but he said to himself that she was a simple,
+easily managed person, and that a few deferential protestations would
+take the edge from her displeasure. “Yes,” he began; “your daughter has
+kindly allowed me the honor of being her guide.”
+
+Mrs. Miller’s wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of
+appealing air, to Daisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther,
+gently humming to herself. “I presume you will go in the cars,” said her
+mother.
+
+“Yes, or in the boat,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Well, of course, I don’t know,” Mrs. Miller rejoined. “I have never
+been to that castle.”
+
+“It is a pity you shouldn’t go,” said Winterbourne, beginning to feel
+reassured as to her opposition. And yet he was quite prepared to find
+that, as a matter of course, she meant to accompany her daughter.
+
+“We’ve been thinking ever so much about going,” she pursued; “but it
+seems as if we couldn’t. Of course Daisy--she wants to go round. But
+there’s a lady here--I don’t know her name--she says she shouldn’t think
+we’d want to go to see castles HERE; she should think we’d want to wait
+till we got to Italy. It seems as if there would be so many there,”
+ continued Mrs. Miller with an air of increasing confidence. “Of course
+we only want to see the principal ones. We visited several in England,”
+ she presently added.
+
+“Ah yes! in England there are beautiful castles,” said Winterbourne.
+“But Chillon here, is very well worth seeing.”
+
+“Well, if Daisy feels up to it--” said Mrs. Miller, in a tone
+impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise. “It seems
+as if there was nothing she wouldn’t undertake.”
+
+“Oh, I think she’ll enjoy it!” Winterbourne declared. And he desired
+more and more to make it a certainty that he was to have the privilege
+of a tete-a-tete with the young lady, who was still strolling along
+in front of them, softly vocalizing. “You are not disposed, madam,” he
+inquired, “to undertake it yourself?”
+
+Daisy’s mother looked at him an instant askance, and then walked forward
+in silence. Then--“I guess she had better go alone,” she said simply.
+Winterbourne observed to himself that this was a very different type of
+maternity from that of the vigilant matrons who massed themselves in the
+forefront of social intercourse in the dark old city at the other end of
+the lake. But his meditations were interrupted by hearing his name very
+distinctly pronounced by Mrs. Miller’s unprotected daughter.
+
+“Mr. Winterbourne!” murmured Daisy.
+
+“Mademoiselle!” said the young man.
+
+“Don’t you want to take me out in a boat?”
+
+“At present?” he asked.
+
+“Of course!” said Daisy.
+
+“Well, Annie Miller!” exclaimed her mother.
+
+“I beg you, madam, to let her go,” said Winterbourne ardently; for
+he had never yet enjoyed the sensation of guiding through the summer
+starlight a skiff freighted with a fresh and beautiful young girl.
+
+“I shouldn’t think she’d want to,” said her mother. “I should think
+she’d rather go indoors.”
+
+“I’m sure Mr. Winterbourne wants to take me,” Daisy declared. “He’s so
+awfully devoted!”
+
+“I will row you over to Chillon in the starlight.”
+
+“I don’t believe it!” said Daisy.
+
+“Well!” ejaculated the elder lady again.
+
+“You haven’t spoken to me for half an hour,” her daughter went on.
+
+“I have been having some very pleasant conversation with your mother,”
+ said Winterbourne.
+
+“Well, I want you to take me out in a boat!” Daisy repeated. They had
+all stopped, and she had turned round and was looking at Winterbourne.
+Her face wore a charming smile, her pretty eyes were gleaming, she was
+swinging her great fan about. No; it’s impossible to be prettier than
+that, thought Winterbourne.
+
+“There are half a dozen boats moored at that landing place,” he said,
+pointing to certain steps which descended from the garden to the lake.
+“If you will do me the honor to accept my arm, we will go and select one
+of them.”
+
+Daisy stood there smiling; she threw back her head and gave a little,
+light laugh. “I like a gentleman to be formal!” she declared.
+
+“I assure you it’s a formal offer.”
+
+“I was bound I would make you say something,” Daisy went on.
+
+“You see, it’s not very difficult,” said Winterbourne. “But I am afraid
+you are chaffing me.”
+
+“I think not, sir,” remarked Mrs. Miller very gently.
+
+“Do, then, let me give you a row,” he said to the young girl.
+
+“It’s quite lovely, the way you say that!” cried Daisy.
+
+“It will be still more lovely to do it.”
+
+“Yes, it would be lovely!” said Daisy. But she made no movement to
+accompany him; she only stood there laughing.
+
+“I should think you had better find out what time it is,” interposed her
+mother.
+
+“It is eleven o’clock, madam,” said a voice, with a foreign accent, out
+of the neighboring darkness; and Winterbourne, turning, perceived the
+florid personage who was in attendance upon the two ladies. He had
+apparently just approached.
+
+“Oh, Eugenio,” said Daisy, “I am going out in a boat!”
+
+Eugenio bowed. “At eleven o’clock, mademoiselle?”
+
+“I am going with Mr. Winterbourne--this very minute.”
+
+“Do tell her she can’t,” said Mrs. Miller to the courier.
+
+“I think you had better not go out in a boat, mademoiselle,” Eugenio
+declared.
+
+Winterbourne wished to Heaven this pretty girl were not so familiar with
+her courier; but he said nothing.
+
+“I suppose you don’t think it’s proper!” Daisy exclaimed. “Eugenio
+doesn’t think anything’s proper.”
+
+“I am at your service,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Does mademoiselle propose to go alone?” asked Eugenio of Mrs. Miller.
+
+“Oh, no; with this gentleman!” answered Daisy’s mamma.
+
+The courier looked for a moment at Winterbourne--the latter thought he
+was smiling--and then, solemnly, with a bow, “As mademoiselle pleases!”
+ he said.
+
+“Oh, I hoped you would make a fuss!” said Daisy. “I don’t care to go
+now.”
+
+“I myself shall make a fuss if you don’t go,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“That’s all I want--a little fuss!” And the young girl began to laugh
+again.
+
+“Mr. Randolph has gone to bed!” the courier announced frigidly.
+
+“Oh, Daisy; now we can go!” said Mrs. Miller.
+
+Daisy turned away from Winterbourne, looking at him, smiling and fanning
+herself. “Good night,” she said; “I hope you are disappointed, or
+disgusted, or something!”
+
+He looked at her, taking the hand she offered him. “I am puzzled,” he
+answered.
+
+“Well, I hope it won’t keep you awake!” she said very smartly; and,
+under the escort of the privileged Eugenio, the two ladies passed toward
+the house.
+
+Winterbourne stood looking after them; he was indeed puzzled. He
+lingered beside the lake for a quarter of an hour, turning over the
+mystery of the young girl’s sudden familiarities and caprices. But
+the only very definite conclusion he came to was that he should enjoy
+deucedly “going off” with her somewhere.
+
+Two days afterward he went off with her to the Castle of Chillon. He
+waited for her in the large hall of the hotel, where the couriers, the
+servants, the foreign tourists, were lounging about and staring. It was
+not the place he should have chosen, but she had appointed it. She came
+tripping downstairs, buttoning her long gloves, squeezing her folded
+parasol against her pretty figure, dressed in the perfection of a
+soberly elegant traveling costume. Winterbourne was a man of imagination
+and, as our ancestors used to say, sensibility; as he looked at her
+dress and, on the great staircase, her little rapid, confiding step, he
+felt as if there were something romantic going forward. He could have
+believed he was going to elope with her. He passed out with her among
+all the idle people that were assembled there; they were all looking
+at her very hard; she had begun to chatter as soon as she joined him.
+Winterbourne’s preference had been that they should be conveyed to
+Chillon in a carriage; but she expressed a lively wish to go in the
+little steamer; she declared that she had a passion for steamboats.
+There was always such a lovely breeze upon the water, and you saw such
+lots of people. The sail was not long, but Winterbourne’s companion
+found time to say a great many things. To the young man himself their
+little excursion was so much of an escapade--an adventure--that, even
+allowing for her habitual sense of freedom, he had some expectation of
+seeing her regard it in the same way. But it must be confessed that,
+in this particular, he was disappointed. Daisy Miller was extremely
+animated, she was in charming spirits; but she was apparently not at all
+excited; she was not fluttered; she avoided neither his eyes nor those
+of anyone else; she blushed neither when she looked at him nor when she
+felt that people were looking at her. People continued to look at her
+a great deal, and Winterbourne took much satisfaction in his pretty
+companion’s distinguished air. He had been a little afraid that she
+would talk loud, laugh overmuch, and even, perhaps, desire to move about
+the boat a good deal. But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling,
+with his eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place, she
+delivered herself of a great number of original reflections. It was the
+most charming garrulity he had ever heard. He had assented to the idea
+that she was “common”; but was she so, after all, or was he simply
+getting used to her commonness? Her conversation was chiefly of what
+metaphysicians term the objective cast, but every now and then it took a
+subjective turn.
+
+“What on EARTH are you so grave about?” she suddenly demanded, fixing
+her agreeable eyes upon Winterbourne’s.
+
+“Am I grave?” he asked. “I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear.”
+
+“You look as if you were taking me to a funeral. If that’s a grin, your
+ears are very near together.”
+
+“Should you like me to dance a hornpipe on the deck?”
+
+“Pray do, and I’ll carry round your hat. It will pay the expenses of our
+journey.”
+
+“I never was better pleased in my life,” murmured Winterbourne.
+
+She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh. “I like
+to make you say those things! You’re a queer mixture!”
+
+In the castle, after they had landed, the subjective element decidedly
+prevailed. Daisy tripped about the vaulted chambers, rustled her skirts
+in the corkscrew staircases, flirted back with a pretty little cry and
+a shudder from the edge of the oubliettes, and turned a singularly
+well-shaped ear to everything that Winterbourne told her about the
+place. But he saw that she cared very little for feudal antiquities and
+that the dusky traditions of Chillon made but a slight impression upon
+her. They had the good fortune to have been able to walk about without
+other companionship than that of the custodian; and Winterbourne
+arranged with this functionary that they should not be hurried--that
+they should linger and pause wherever they chose. The custodian
+interpreted the bargain generously--Winterbourne, on his side, had been
+generous--and ended by leaving them quite to themselves. Miss Miller’s
+observations were not remarkable for logical consistency; for anything
+she wanted to say she was sure to find a pretext. She found a great many
+pretexts in the rugged embrasures of Chillon for asking Winterbourne
+sudden questions about himself--his family, his previous history, his
+tastes, his habits, his intentions--and for supplying information upon
+corresponding points in her own personality. Of her own tastes, habits,
+and intentions Miss Miller was prepared to give the most definite, and
+indeed the most favorable account.
+
+“Well, I hope you know enough!” she said to her companion, after he had
+told her the history of the unhappy Bonivard. “I never saw a man that
+knew so much!” The history of Bonivard had evidently, as they say, gone
+into one ear and out of the other. But Daisy went on to say that she
+wished Winterbourne would travel with them and “go round” with them;
+they might know something, in that case. “Don’t you want to come
+and teach Randolph?” she asked. Winterbourne said that nothing
+could possibly please him so much, but that he had unfortunately other
+occupations. “Other occupations? I don’t believe it!” said Miss Daisy.
+“What do you mean? You are not in business.” The young man admitted that
+he was not in business; but he had engagements which, even within a day
+or two, would force him to go back to Geneva. “Oh, bother!” she said; “I
+don’t believe it!” and she began to talk about something else. But a few
+moments later, when he was pointing out to her the pretty design of an
+antique fireplace, she broke out irrelevantly, “You don’t mean to say
+you are going back to Geneva?”
+
+“It is a melancholy fact that I shall have to return to Geneva
+tomorrow.”
+
+“Well, Mr. Winterbourne,” said Daisy, “I think you’re horrid!”
+
+“Oh, don’t say such dreadful things!” said Winterbourne--“just at the
+last!”
+
+“The last!” cried the young girl; “I call it the first. I have half a
+mind to leave you here and go straight back to the hotel alone.” And
+for the next ten minutes she did nothing but call him horrid. Poor
+Winterbourne was fairly bewildered; no young lady had as yet done him
+the honor to be so agitated by the announcement of his movements. His
+companion, after this, ceased to pay any attention to the curiosities of
+Chillon or the beauties of the lake; she opened fire upon the mysterious
+charmer in Geneva whom she appeared to have instantly taken it for
+granted that he was hurrying back to see. How did Miss Daisy Miller
+know that there was a charmer in Geneva? Winterbourne, who denied the
+existence of such a person, was quite unable to discover, and he was
+divided between amazement at the rapidity of her induction and amusement
+at the frankness of her persiflage. She seemed to him, in all this, an
+extraordinary mixture of innocence and crudity. “Does she never allow
+you more than three days at a time?” asked Daisy ironically. “Doesn’t
+she give you a vacation in summer? There’s no one so hard worked but
+they can get leave to go off somewhere at this season. I suppose, if you
+stay another day, she’ll come after you in the boat. Do wait over
+till Friday, and I will go down to the landing to see her arrive!”
+ Winterbourne began to think he had been wrong to feel disappointed in
+the temper in which the young lady had embarked. If he had missed the
+personal accent, the personal accent was now making its appearance.
+It sounded very distinctly, at last, in her telling him she would stop
+“teasing” him if he would promise her solemnly to come down to Rome in
+the winter.
+
+“That’s not a difficult promise to make,” said Winterbourne. “My aunt
+has taken an apartment in Rome for the winter and has already asked me
+to come and see her.”
+
+“I don’t want you to come for your aunt,” said Daisy; “I want you to
+come for me.” And this was the only allusion that the young man was ever
+to hear her make to his invidious kinswoman. He declared that, at
+any rate, he would certainly come. After this Daisy stopped teasing.
+Winterbourne took a carriage, and they drove back to Vevey in the dusk;
+the young girl was very quiet.
+
+In the evening Winterbourne mentioned to Mrs. Costello that he had spent
+the afternoon at Chillon with Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+“The Americans--of the courier?” asked this lady.
+
+“Ah, happily,” said Winterbourne, “the courier stayed at home.”
+
+“She went with you all alone?”
+
+“All alone.”
+
+Mrs. Costello sniffed a little at her smelling bottle. “And that,” she
+exclaimed, “is the young person whom you wanted me to know!”
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+Winterbourne, who had returned to Geneva the day after his excursion
+to Chillon, went to Rome toward the end of January. His aunt had been
+established there for several weeks, and he had received a couple of
+letters from her. “Those people you were so devoted to last summer at
+Vevey have turned up here, courier and all,” she wrote. “They seem to
+have made several acquaintances, but the courier continues to be the
+most intime. The young lady, however, is also very intimate with some
+third-rate Italians, with whom she rackets about in a way that makes
+much talk. Bring me that pretty novel of Cherbuliez’s--Paule Mere--and
+don’t come later than the 23rd.”
+
+In the natural course of events, Winterbourne, on arriving in Rome,
+would presently have ascertained Mrs. Miller’s address at the American
+banker’s and have gone to pay his compliments to Miss Daisy. “After what
+happened at Vevey, I think I may certainly call upon them,” he said to
+Mrs. Costello.
+
+“If, after what happens--at Vevey and everywhere--you desire to keep
+up the acquaintance, you are very welcome. Of course a man may know
+everyone. Men are welcome to the privilege!”
+
+“Pray what is it that happens--here, for instance?” Winterbourne
+demanded.
+
+“The girl goes about alone with her foreigners. As to what happens
+further, you must apply elsewhere for information. She has picked up
+half a dozen of the regular Roman fortune hunters, and she takes them
+about to people’s houses. When she comes to a party she brings with her
+a gentleman with a good deal of manner and a wonderful mustache.”
+
+“And where is the mother?”
+
+“I haven’t the least idea. They are very dreadful people.”
+
+Winterbourne meditated a moment. “They are very ignorant--very innocent
+only. Depend upon it they are not bad.”
+
+“They are hopelessly vulgar,” said Mrs. Costello. “Whether or no being
+hopelessly vulgar is being ‘bad’ is a question for the metaphysicians.
+They are bad enough to dislike, at any rate; and for this short life
+that is quite enough.”
+
+The news that Daisy Miller was surrounded by half a dozen wonderful
+mustaches checked Winterbourne’s impulse to go straightway to see her.
+He had, perhaps, not definitely flattered himself that he had made an
+ineffaceable impression upon her heart, but he was annoyed at hearing
+of a state of affairs so little in harmony with an image that had lately
+flitted in and out of his own meditations; the image of a very pretty
+girl looking out of an old Roman window and asking herself urgently
+when Mr. Winterbourne would arrive. If, however, he determined to wait a
+little before reminding Miss Miller of his claims to her consideration,
+he went very soon to call upon two or three other friends. One of these
+friends was an American lady who had spent several winters at Geneva,
+where she had placed her children at school. She was a very accomplished
+woman, and she lived in the Via Gregoriana. Winterbourne found her in a
+little crimson drawing room on a third floor; the room was filled with
+southern sunshine. He had not been there ten minutes when the servant
+came in, announcing “Madame Mila!” This announcement was presently
+followed by the entrance of little Randolph Miller, who stopped in the
+middle of the room and stood staring at Winterbourne. An instant later
+his pretty sister crossed the threshold; and then, after a considerable
+interval, Mrs. Miller slowly advanced.
+
+“I know you!” said Randolph.
+
+“I’m sure you know a great many things,” exclaimed Winterbourne, taking
+him by the hand. “How is your education coming on?”
+
+Daisy was exchanging greetings very prettily with her hostess, but when
+she heard Winterbourne’s voice she quickly turned her head. “Well, I
+declare!” she said.
+
+“I told you I should come, you know,” Winterbourne rejoined, smiling.
+
+“Well, I didn’t believe it,” said Miss Daisy.
+
+“I am much obliged to you,” laughed the young man.
+
+“You might have come to see me!” said Daisy.
+
+“I arrived only yesterday.”
+
+“I don’t believe that!” the young girl declared.
+
+Winterbourne turned with a protesting smile to her mother, but this lady
+evaded his glance, and, seating herself, fixed her eyes upon her son.
+“We’ve got a bigger place than this,” said Randolph. “It’s all gold on
+the walls.”
+
+Mrs. Miller turned uneasily in her chair. “I told you if I were to bring
+you, you would say something!” she murmured.
+
+“I told YOU!” Randolph exclaimed. “I tell YOU, sir!” he added jocosely,
+giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee. “It IS bigger, too!”
+
+Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess;
+Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother. “I
+hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey,” he said.
+
+Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him--at his chin. “Not very well,
+sir,” she answered.
+
+“She’s got the dyspepsia,” said Randolph. “I’ve got it too. Father’s got
+it. I’ve got it most!”
+
+This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller, seemed to
+relieve her. “I suffer from the liver,” she said. “I think it’s this
+climate; it’s less bracing than Schenectady, especially in the winter
+season. I don’t know whether you know we reside at Schenectady. I was
+saying to Daisy that I certainly hadn’t found any one like Dr. Davis,
+and I didn’t believe I should. Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they
+think everything of him. He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing
+he wouldn’t do for me. He said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia,
+but he was bound to cure it. I’m sure there was nothing he wouldn’t
+try. He was just going to try something new when we came off. Mr. Miller
+wanted Daisy to see Europe for herself. But I wrote to Mr. Miller that
+it seems as if I couldn’t get on without Dr. Davis. At Schenectady he
+stands at the very top; and there’s a great deal of sickness there, too.
+It affects my sleep.”
+
+Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis’s
+patient, during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own
+companion. The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with
+Rome. “Well, I must say I am disappointed,” she answered. “We had heard
+so much about it; I suppose we had heard too much. But we couldn’t help
+that. We had been led to expect something different.”
+
+“Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it,” said
+Winterbourne.
+
+“I hate it worse and worse every day!” cried Randolph.
+
+“You are like the infant Hannibal,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“No, I ain’t!” Randolph declared at a venture.
+
+“You are not much like an infant,” said his mother. “But we have seen
+places,” she resumed, “that I should put a long way before Rome.” And in
+reply to Winterbourne’s interrogation, “There’s Zurich,” she concluded,
+“I think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn’t heard half so much about it.”
+
+“The best place we’ve seen is the City of Richmond!” said Randolph.
+
+“He means the ship,” his mother explained. “We crossed in that ship.
+Randolph had a good time on the City of Richmond.”
+
+“It’s the best place I’ve seen,” the child repeated. “Only it was turned
+the wrong way.”
+
+“Well, we’ve got to turn the right way some time,” said Mrs. Miller with
+a little laugh. Winterbourne expressed the hope that her daughter at
+least found some gratification in Rome, and she declared that Daisy
+was quite carried away. “It’s on account of the society--the society’s
+splendid. She goes round everywhere; she has made a great number of
+acquaintances. Of course she goes round more than I do. I must say they
+have been very sociable; they have taken her right in. And then she
+knows a great many gentlemen. Oh, she thinks there’s nothing like Rome.
+Of course, it’s a great deal pleasanter for a young lady if she knows
+plenty of gentlemen.”
+
+By this time Daisy had turned her attention again to Winterbourne. “I’ve
+been telling Mrs. Walker how mean you were!” the young girl announced.
+
+“And what is the evidence you have offered?” asked Winterbourne, rather
+annoyed at Miss Miller’s want of appreciation of the zeal of an admirer
+who on his way down to Rome had stopped neither at Bologna nor at
+Florence, simply because of a certain sentimental impatience. He
+remembered that a cynical compatriot had once told him that American
+women--the pretty ones, and this gave a largeness to the axiom--were at
+once the most exacting in the world and the least endowed with a sense
+of indebtedness.
+
+“Why, you were awfully mean at Vevey,” said Daisy. “You wouldn’t do
+anything. You wouldn’t stay there when I asked you.”
+
+“My dearest young lady,” cried Winterbourne, with eloquence, “have I
+come all the way to Rome to encounter your reproaches?”
+
+“Just hear him say that!” said Daisy to her hostess, giving a twist to a
+bow on this lady’s dress. “Did you ever hear anything so quaint?”
+
+“So quaint, my dear?” murmured Mrs. Walker in the tone of a partisan of
+Winterbourne.
+
+“Well, I don’t know,” said Daisy, fingering Mrs. Walker’s ribbons. “Mrs.
+Walker, I want to tell you something.”
+
+“Mother-r,” interposed Randolph, with his rough ends to his words, “I
+tell you you’ve got to go. Eugenio’ll raise--something!”
+
+“I’m not afraid of Eugenio,” said Daisy with a toss of her head. “Look
+here, Mrs. Walker,” she went on, “you know I’m coming to your party.”
+
+“I am delighted to hear it.”
+
+“I’ve got a lovely dress!”
+
+“I am very sure of that.”
+
+“But I want to ask a favor--permission to bring a friend.”
+
+“I shall be happy to see any of your friends,” said Mrs. Walker, turning
+with a smile to Mrs. Miller.
+
+“Oh, they are not my friends,” answered Daisy’s mamma, smiling shyly in
+her own fashion. “I never spoke to them.”
+
+“It’s an intimate friend of mine--Mr. Giovanelli,” said Daisy without
+a tremor in her clear little voice or a shadow on her brilliant little
+face.
+
+Mrs. Walker was silent a moment; she gave a rapid glance at
+Winterbourne. “I shall be glad to see Mr. Giovanelli,” she then said.
+
+“He’s an Italian,” Daisy pursued with the prettiest serenity. “He’s a
+great friend of mine; he’s the handsomest man in the world--except Mr.
+Winterbourne! He knows plenty of Italians, but he wants to know some
+Americans. He thinks ever so much of Americans. He’s tremendously
+clever. He’s perfectly lovely!”
+
+It was settled that this brilliant personage should be brought to Mrs.
+Walker’s party, and then Mrs. Miller prepared to take her leave. “I
+guess we’ll go back to the hotel,” she said.
+
+“You may go back to the hotel, Mother, but I’m going to take a walk,”
+ said Daisy.
+
+“She’s going to walk with Mr. Giovanelli,” Randolph proclaimed.
+
+“I am going to the Pincio,” said Daisy, smiling.
+
+“Alone, my dear--at this hour?” Mrs. Walker asked. The afternoon was
+drawing to a close--it was the hour for the throng of carriages and of
+contemplative pedestrians. “I don’t think it’s safe, my dear,” said Mrs.
+Walker.
+
+“Neither do I,” subjoined Mrs. Miller. “You’ll get the fever, as sure as
+you live. Remember what Dr. Davis told you!”
+
+“Give her some medicine before she goes,” said Randolph.
+
+The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty
+teeth, bent over and kissed her hostess. “Mrs. Walker, you are too
+perfect,” she said. “I’m not going alone; I am going to meet a friend.”
+
+“Your friend won’t keep you from getting the fever,” Mrs. Miller
+observed.
+
+“Is it Mr. Giovanelli?” asked the hostess.
+
+Winterbourne was watching the young girl; at this question his attention
+quickened. She stood there, smiling and smoothing her bonnet ribbons;
+she glanced at Winterbourne. Then, while she glanced and smiled, she
+answered, without a shade of hesitation, “Mr. Giovanelli--the beautiful
+Giovanelli.”
+
+“My dear young friend,” said Mrs. Walker, taking her hand pleadingly,
+“don’t walk off to the Pincio at this hour to meet a beautiful Italian.”
+
+“Well, he speaks English,” said Mrs. Miller.
+
+“Gracious me!” Daisy exclaimed, “I don’t to do anything improper.
+There’s an easy way to settle it.” She continued to glance at
+Winterbourne. “The Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr.
+Winterbourne were as polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with
+me!”
+
+Winterbourne’s politeness hastened to affirm itself, and the young girl
+gave him gracious leave to accompany her. They passed downstairs
+before her mother, and at the door Winterbourne perceived Mrs. Miller’s
+carriage drawn up, with the ornamental courier whose acquaintance he had
+made at Vevey seated within. “Goodbye, Eugenio!” cried Daisy; “I’m going
+to take a walk.” The distance from the Via Gregoriana to the beautiful
+garden at the other end of the Pincian Hill is, in fact, rapidly
+traversed. As the day was splendid, however, and the concourse of
+vehicles, walkers, and loungers numerous, the young Americans found
+their progress much delayed. This fact was highly agreeable to
+Winterbourne, in spite of his consciousness of his singular situation.
+The slow-moving, idly gazing Roman crowd bestowed much attention upon
+the extremely pretty young foreign lady who was passing through it upon
+his arm; and he wondered what on earth had been in Daisy’s mind when
+she proposed to expose herself, unattended, to its appreciation. His own
+mission, to her sense, apparently, was to consign her to the hands
+of Mr. Giovanelli; but Winterbourne, at once annoyed and gratified,
+resolved that he would do no such thing.
+
+“Why haven’t you been to see me?” asked Daisy. “You can’t get out of
+that.”
+
+“I have had the honor of telling you that I have only just stepped out
+of the train.”
+
+“You must have stayed in the train a good while after it stopped!” cried
+the young girl with her little laugh. “I suppose you were asleep. You
+have had time to go to see Mrs. Walker.”
+
+“I knew Mrs. Walker--” Winterbourne began to explain.
+
+“I know where you knew her. You knew her at Geneva. She told me so.
+Well, you knew me at Vevey. That’s just as good. So you ought to have
+come.” She asked him no other question than this; she began to prattle
+about her own affairs. “We’ve got splendid rooms at the hotel; Eugenio
+says they’re the best rooms in Rome. We are going to stay all winter,
+if we don’t die of the fever; and I guess we’ll stay then. It’s a great
+deal nicer than I thought; I thought it would be fearfully quiet; I was
+sure it would be awfully poky. I was sure we should be going round
+all the time with one of those dreadful old men that explain about the
+pictures and things. But we only had about a week of that, and now
+I’m enjoying myself. I know ever so many people, and they are all so
+charming. The society’s extremely select. There are all kinds--English,
+and Germans, and Italians. I think I like the English best. I like their
+style of conversation. But there are some lovely Americans. I never saw
+anything so hospitable. There’s something or other every day. There’s
+not much dancing; but I must say I never thought dancing was everything.
+I was always fond of conversation. I guess I shall have plenty at Mrs.
+Walker’s, her rooms are so small.” When they had passed the gate of the
+Pincian Gardens, Miss Miller began to wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might
+be. “We had better go straight to that place in front,” she said, “where
+you look at the view.”
+
+“I certainly shall not help you to find him,” Winterbourne declared.
+
+“Then I shall find him without you,” cried Miss Daisy.
+
+“You certainly won’t leave me!” cried Winterbourne.
+
+She burst into her little laugh. “Are you afraid you’ll get lost--or run
+over? But there’s Giovanelli, leaning against that tree. He’s staring at
+the women in the carriages: did you ever see anything so cool?”
+
+Winterbourne perceived at some distance a little man standing with
+folded arms nursing his cane. He had a handsome face, an artfully poised
+hat, a glass in one eye, and a nosegay in his buttonhole. Winterbourne
+looked at him a moment and then said, “Do you mean to speak to that
+man?”
+
+“Do I mean to speak to him? Why, you don’t suppose I mean to communicate
+by signs?”
+
+“Pray understand, then,” said Winterbourne, “that I intend to remain
+with you.”
+
+Daisy stopped and looked at him, without a sign of troubled
+consciousness in her face, with nothing but the presence of her charming
+eyes and her happy dimples. “Well, she’s a cool one!” thought the young
+man.
+
+“I don’t like the way you say that,” said Daisy. “It’s too imperious.”
+
+“I beg your pardon if I say it wrong. The main point is to give you an
+idea of my meaning.”
+
+The young girl looked at him more gravely, but with eyes that were
+prettier than ever. “I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me,
+or to interfere with anything I do.”
+
+“I think you have made a mistake,” said Winterbourne. “You should
+sometimes listen to a gentleman--the right one.”
+
+Daisy began to laugh again. “I do nothing but listen to gentlemen!” she
+exclaimed. “Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?”
+
+The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two
+friends, and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity.
+He bowed to Winterbourne as well as to the latter’s companion; he had
+a brilliant smile, an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a
+bad-looking fellow. But he nevertheless said to Daisy, “No, he’s not the
+right one.”
+
+Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions; she
+mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other. She strolled
+alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli, who spoke
+English very cleverly--Winterbourne afterward learned that he had
+practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses--addressed her
+a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely urbane, and the
+young American, who said nothing, reflected upon that profundity of
+Italian cleverness which enables people to appear more gracious in
+proportion as they are more acutely disappointed. Giovanelli, of course,
+had counted upon something more intimate; he had not bargained for
+a party of three. But he kept his temper in a manner which suggested
+far-stretching intentions. Winterbourne flattered himself that he had
+taken his measure. “He is not a gentleman,” said the young American;
+“he is only a clever imitation of one. He is a music master, or a
+penny-a-liner, or a third-rate artist. D__n his good looks!” Mr.
+Giovanelli had certainly a very pretty face; but Winterbourne felt a
+superior indignation at his own lovely fellow countrywoman’s not knowing
+the difference between a spurious gentleman and a real one. Giovanelli
+chattered and jested and made himself wonderfully agreeable. It was
+true that, if he was an imitation, the imitation was brilliant.
+“Nevertheless,” Winterbourne said to himself, “a nice girl ought to
+know!” And then he came back to the question whether this was, in fact,
+a nice girl. Would a nice girl, even allowing for her being a little
+American flirt, make a rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner?
+The rendezvous in this case, indeed, had been in broad daylight and in
+the most crowded corner of Rome, but was it not impossible to regard the
+choice of these circumstances as a proof of extreme cynicism? Singular
+though it may seem, Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl, in
+joining her amoroso, should not appear more impatient of his own
+company, and he was vexed because of his inclination. It was impossible
+to regard her as a perfectly well-conducted young lady; she was wanting
+in a certain indispensable delicacy. It would therefore simplify matters
+greatly to be able to treat her as the object of one of those sentiments
+which are called by romancers “lawless passions.” That she should seem
+to wish to get rid of him would help him to think more lightly of her,
+and to be able to think more lightly of her would make her much less
+perplexing. But Daisy, on this occasion, continued to present herself as
+an inscrutable combination of audacity and innocence.
+
+She had been walking some quarter of an hour, attended by her two
+cavaliers, and responding in a tone of very childish gaiety, as it
+seemed to Winterbourne, to the pretty speeches of Mr. Giovanelli, when
+a carriage that had detached itself from the revolving train drew up
+beside the path. At the same moment Winterbourne perceived that his
+friend Mrs. Walker--the lady whose house he had lately left--was seated
+in the vehicle and was beckoning to him. Leaving Miss Miller’s side,
+he hastened to obey her summons. Mrs. Walker was flushed; she wore an
+excited air. “It is really too dreadful,” she said. “That girl must not
+do this sort of thing. She must not walk here with you two men. Fifty
+people have noticed her.”
+
+Winterbourne raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s a pity to make too much
+fuss about it.”
+
+“It’s a pity to let the girl ruin herself!”
+
+“She is very innocent,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“She’s very crazy!” cried Mrs. Walker. “Did you ever see anything so
+imbecile as her mother? After you had all left me just now, I could not
+sit still for thinking of it. It seemed too pitiful, not even to attempt
+to save her. I ordered the carriage and put on my bonnet, and came here
+as quickly as possible. Thank Heaven I have found you!”
+
+“What do you propose to do with us?” asked Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+“To ask her to get in, to drive her about here for half an hour, so that
+the world may see she is not running absolutely wild, and then to take
+her safely home.”
+
+“I don’t think it’s a very happy thought,” said Winterbourne; “but you
+can try.”
+
+Mrs. Walker tried. The young man went in pursuit of Miss Miller, who
+had simply nodded and smiled at his interlocutor in the carriage and
+had gone her way with her companion. Daisy, on learning that Mrs. Walker
+wished to speak to her, retraced her steps with a perfect good grace and
+with Mr. Giovanelli at her side. She declared that she was delighted to
+have a chance to present this gentleman to Mrs. Walker. She immediately
+achieved the introduction, and declared that she had never in her life
+seen anything so lovely as Mrs. Walker’s carriage rug.
+
+“I am glad you admire it,” said this lady, smiling sweetly. “Will you
+get in and let me put it over you?”
+
+“Oh, no, thank you,” said Daisy. “I shall admire it much more as I see
+you driving round with it.”
+
+“Do get in and drive with me!” said Mrs. Walker.
+
+“That would be charming, but it’s so enchanting just as I am!” and Daisy
+gave a brilliant glance at the gentlemen on either side of her.
+
+“It may be enchanting, dear child, but it is not the custom here,” urged
+Mrs. Walker, leaning forward in her victoria, with her hands devoutly
+clasped.
+
+“Well, it ought to be, then!” said Daisy. “If I didn’t walk I should
+expire.”
+
+“You should walk with your mother, dear,” cried the lady from Geneva,
+losing patience.
+
+“With my mother dear!” exclaimed the young girl. Winterbourne saw that
+she scented interference. “My mother never walked ten steps in her life.
+And then, you know,” she added with a laugh, “I am more than five years
+old.”
+
+“You are old enough to be more reasonable. You are old enough, dear Miss
+Miller, to be talked about.”
+
+Daisy looked at Mrs. Walker, smiling intensely. “Talked about? What do
+you mean?”
+
+“Come into my carriage, and I will tell you.”
+
+Daisy turned her quickened glance again from one of the gentlemen beside
+her to the other. Mr. Giovanelli was bowing to and fro, rubbing down
+his gloves and laughing very agreeably; Winterbourne thought it a most
+unpleasant scene. “I don’t think I want to know what you mean,” said
+Daisy presently. “I don’t think I should like it.”
+
+Winterbourne wished that Mrs. Walker would tuck in her carriage rug and
+drive away, but this lady did not enjoy being defied, as she afterward
+told him. “Should you prefer being thought a very reckless girl?” she
+demanded.
+
+“Gracious!” exclaimed Daisy. She looked again at Mr. Giovanelli, then
+she turned to Winterbourne. There was a little pink flush in her cheek;
+she was tremendously pretty. “Does Mr. Winterbourne think,” she asked
+slowly, smiling, throwing back her head, and glancing at him from
+head to foot, “that, to save my reputation, I ought to get into the
+carriage?”
+
+Winterbourne colored; for an instant he hesitated greatly. It seemed so
+strange to hear her speak that way of her “reputation.” But he himself,
+in fact, must speak in accordance with gallantry. The finest gallantry,
+here, was simply to tell her the truth; and the truth, for Winterbourne,
+as the few indications I have been able to give have made him known to
+the reader, was that Daisy Miller should take Mrs. Walker’s advice. He
+looked at her exquisite prettiness, and then he said, very gently, “I
+think you should get into the carriage.”
+
+Daisy gave a violent laugh. “I never heard anything so stiff! If this
+is improper, Mrs. Walker,” she pursued, “then I am all improper, and you
+must give me up. Goodbye; I hope you’ll have a lovely ride!” and, with
+Mr. Giovanelli, who made a triumphantly obsequious salute, she turned
+away.
+
+Mrs. Walker sat looking after her, and there were tears in Mrs. Walker’s
+eyes. “Get in here, sir,” she said to Winterbourne, indicating the place
+beside her. The young man answered that he felt bound to accompany Miss
+Miller, whereupon Mrs. Walker declared that if he refused her this
+favor she would never speak to him again. She was evidently in earnest.
+Winterbourne overtook Daisy and her companion, and, offering the young
+girl his hand, told her that Mrs. Walker had made an imperious claim
+upon his society. He expected that in answer she would say something
+rather free, something to commit herself still further to that
+“recklessness” from which Mrs. Walker had so charitably endeavored to
+dissuade her. But she only shook his hand, hardly looking at him, while
+Mr. Giovanelli bade him farewell with a too emphatic flourish of the
+hat.
+
+Winterbourne was not in the best possible humor as he took his seat in
+Mrs. Walker’s victoria. “That was not clever of you,” he said candidly,
+while the vehicle mingled again with the throng of carriages.
+
+“In such a case,” his companion answered, “I don’t wish to be clever; I
+wish to be EARNEST!”
+
+“Well, your earnestness has only offended her and put her off.”
+
+“It has happened very well,” said Mrs. Walker. “If she is so perfectly
+determined to compromise herself, the sooner one knows it the better;
+one can act accordingly.”
+
+“I suspect she meant no harm,” Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+“So I thought a month ago. But she has been going too far.”
+
+“What has she been doing?”
+
+“Everything that is not done here. Flirting with any man she could pick
+up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening
+with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o’clock at night. Her
+mother goes away when visitors come.”
+
+“But her brother,” said Winterbourne, laughing, “sits up till midnight.”
+
+“He must be edified by what he sees. I’m told that at their hotel
+everyone is talking about her, and that a smile goes round among all the
+servants when a gentleman comes and asks for Miss Miller.”
+
+“The servants be hanged!” said Winterbourne angrily. “The poor girl’s
+only fault,” he presently added, “is that she is very uncultivated.”
+
+“She is naturally indelicate,” Mrs. Walker declared.
+
+“Take that example this morning. How long had you known her at Vevey?”
+
+“A couple of days.”
+
+“Fancy, then, her making it a personal matter that you should have left
+the place!”
+
+Winterbourne was silent for some moments; then he said, “I suspect, Mrs.
+Walker, that you and I have lived too long at Geneva!” And he added a
+request that she should inform him with what particular design she had
+made him enter her carriage.
+
+“I wished to beg you to cease your relations with Miss Miller--not to
+flirt with her--to give her no further opportunity to expose herself--to
+let her alone, in short.”
+
+“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Winterbourne. “I like her extremely.”
+
+“All the more reason that you shouldn’t help her to make a scandal.”
+
+“There shall be nothing scandalous in my attentions to her.”
+
+“There certainly will be in the way she takes them. But I have said what
+I had on my conscience,” Mrs. Walker pursued. “If you wish to rejoin the
+young lady I will put you down. Here, by the way, you have a chance.”
+
+The carriage was traversing that part of the Pincian Garden that
+overhangs the wall of Rome and overlooks the beautiful Villa Borghese.
+It is bordered by a large parapet, near which there are several seats.
+One of the seats at a distance was occupied by a gentleman and a lady,
+toward whom Mrs. Walker gave a toss of her head. At the same moment
+these persons rose and walked toward the parapet. Winterbourne had asked
+the coachman to stop; he now descended from the carriage. His companion
+looked at him a moment in silence; then, while he raised his hat, she
+drove majestically away. Winterbourne stood there; he had turned his
+eyes toward Daisy and her cavalier. They evidently saw no one; they were
+too deeply occupied with each other. When they reached the low garden
+wall, they stood a moment looking off at the great flat-topped pine
+clusters of the Villa Borghese; then Giovanelli seated himself,
+familiarly, upon the broad ledge of the wall. The western sun in the
+opposite sky sent out a brilliant shaft through a couple of cloud bars,
+whereupon Daisy’s companion took her parasol out of her hands and opened
+it. She came a little nearer, and he held the parasol over her; then,
+still holding it, he let it rest upon her shoulder, so that both of
+their heads were hidden from Winterbourne. This young man lingered a
+moment, then he began to walk. But he walked--not toward the couple with
+the parasol; toward the residence of his aunt, Mrs. Costello.
+
+He flattered himself on the following day that there was no smiling
+among the servants when he, at least, asked for Mrs. Miller at her
+hotel. This lady and her daughter, however, were not at home; and on
+the next day after, repeating his visit, Winterbourne again had the
+misfortune not to find them. Mrs. Walker’s party took place on the
+evening of the third day, and, in spite of the frigidity of his last
+interview with the hostess, Winterbourne was among the guests. Mrs.
+Walker was one of those American ladies who, while residing abroad, make
+a point, in their own phrase, of studying European society, and she
+had on this occasion collected several specimens of her diversely born
+fellow mortals to serve, as it were, as textbooks. When Winterbourne
+arrived, Daisy Miller was not there, but in a few moments he saw her
+mother come in alone, very shyly and ruefully. Mrs. Miller’s hair
+above her exposed-looking temples was more frizzled than ever. As she
+approached Mrs. Walker, Winterbourne also drew near.
+
+“You see, I’ve come all alone,” said poor Mrs. Miller. “I’m so
+frightened; I don’t know what to do. It’s the first time I’ve ever been
+to a party alone, especially in this country. I wanted to bring Randolph
+or Eugenio, or someone, but Daisy just pushed me off by myself. I ain’t
+used to going round alone.”
+
+“And does not your daughter intend to favor us with her society?”
+ demanded Mrs. Walker impressively.
+
+“Well, Daisy’s all dressed,” said Mrs. Miller with that accent of the
+dispassionate, if not of the philosophic, historian with which she
+always recorded the current incidents of her daughter’s career. “She got
+dressed on purpose before dinner. But she’s got a friend of hers there;
+that gentleman--the Italian--that she wanted to bring. They’ve got going
+at the piano; it seems as if they couldn’t leave off. Mr. Giovanelli
+sings splendidly. But I guess they’ll come before very long,” concluded
+Mrs. Miller hopefully.
+
+“I’m sorry she should come in that way,” said Mrs. Walker.
+
+“Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
+dinner if she was going to wait three hours,” responded Daisy’s mamma.
+“I didn’t see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit
+round with Mr. Giovanelli.”
+
+“This is most horrible!” said Mrs. Walker, turning away and addressing
+herself to Winterbourne. “Elle s’affiche. It’s her revenge for my having
+ventured to remonstrate with her. When she comes, I shall not speak to
+her.”
+
+Daisy came after eleven o’clock; but she was not, on such an occasion,
+a young lady to wait to be spoken to. She rustled forward in radiant
+loveliness, smiling and chattering, carrying a large bouquet, and
+attended by Mr. Giovanelli. Everyone stopped talking and turned and
+looked at her. She came straight to Mrs. Walker. “I’m afraid you thought
+I never was coming, so I sent mother off to tell you. I wanted to make
+Mr. Giovanelli practice some things before he came; you know he sings
+beautifully, and I want you to ask him to sing. This is Mr. Giovanelli;
+you know I introduced him to you; he’s got the most lovely voice, and
+he knows the most charming set of songs. I made him go over them this
+evening on purpose; we had the greatest time at the hotel.” Of all
+this Daisy delivered herself with the sweetest, brightest audibleness,
+looking now at her hostess and now round the room, while she gave a
+series of little pats, round her shoulders, to the edges of her dress.
+“Is there anyone I know?” she asked.
+
+“I think every one knows you!” said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she gave
+a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore himself
+gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth; he curled his
+mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all the proper functions
+of a handsome Italian at an evening party. He sang very prettily half
+a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward declared that she had been
+quite unable to find out who asked him. It was apparently not Daisy who
+had given him his orders. Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and
+though she had publicly, as it were, professed a high admiration for his
+singing, talked, not inaudibly, while it was going on.
+
+“It’s a pity these rooms are so small; we can’t dance,” she said to
+Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
+
+“I am not sorry we can’t dance,” Winterbourne answered; “I don’t dance.”
+
+“Of course you don’t dance; you’re too stiff,” said Miss Daisy. “I hope
+you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!”
+
+“No. I didn’t enjoy it; I preferred walking with you.”
+
+“We paired off: that was much better,” said Daisy. “But did you ever
+hear anything so cool as Mrs. Walker’s wanting me to get into her
+carriage and drop poor Mr. Giovanelli, and under the pretext that it was
+proper? People have different ideas! It would have been most unkind; he
+had been talking about that walk for ten days.”
+
+“He should not have talked about it at all,” said Winterbourne; “he
+would never have proposed to a young lady of this country to walk about
+the streets with him.”
+
+“About the streets?” cried Daisy with her pretty stare. “Where, then,
+would he have proposed to her to walk? The Pincio is not the streets,
+either; and I, thank goodness, am not a young lady of this country. The
+young ladies of this country have a dreadfully poky time of it, so far
+as I can learn; I don’t see why I should change my habits for THEM.”
+
+“I am afraid your habits are those of a flirt,” said Winterbourne
+gravely.
+
+“Of course they are,” she cried, giving him her little smiling stare
+again. “I’m a fearful, frightful flirt! Did you ever hear of a nice girl
+that was not? But I suppose you will tell me now that I am not a nice
+girl.”
+
+“You’re a very nice girl; but I wish you would flirt with me, and me
+only,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Ah! thank you--thank you very much; you are the last man I should think
+of flirting with. As I have had the pleasure of informing you, you are
+too stiff.”
+
+“You say that too often,” said Winterbourne.
+
+Daisy gave a delighted laugh. “If I could have the sweet hope of making
+you angry, I should say it again.”
+
+“Don’t do that; when I am angry I’m stiffer than ever. But if you won’t
+flirt with me, do cease, at least, to flirt with your friend at the
+piano; they don’t understand that sort of thing here.”
+
+“I thought they understood nothing else!” exclaimed Daisy.
+
+“Not in young unmarried women.”
+
+“It seems to me much more proper in young unmarried women than in old
+married ones,” Daisy declared.
+
+“Well,” said Winterbourne, “when you deal with natives you must go
+by the custom of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom;
+it doesn’t exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr.
+Giovanelli, and without your mother--”
+
+“Gracious! poor Mother!” interposed Daisy.
+
+“Though you may be flirting, Mr. Giovanelli is not; he means something
+else.”
+
+“He isn’t preaching, at any rate,” said Daisy with vivacity. “And if you
+want very much to know, we are neither of us flirting; we are too good
+friends for that: we are very intimate friends.”
+
+“Ah!” rejoined Winterbourne, “if you are in love with each other, it is
+another affair.”
+
+She had allowed him up to this point to talk so frankly that he had no
+expectation of shocking her by this ejaculation; but she immediately got
+up, blushing visibly, and leaving him to exclaim mentally that
+little American flirts were the queerest creatures in the world. “Mr.
+Giovanelli, at least,” she said, giving her interlocutor a single
+glance, “never says such very disagreeable things to me.”
+
+Winterbourne was bewildered; he stood, staring. Mr. Giovanelli had
+finished singing. He left the piano and came over to Daisy. “Won’t you
+come into the other room and have some tea?” he asked, bending before
+her with his ornamental smile.
+
+Daisy turned to Winterbourne, beginning to smile again. He was still
+more perplexed, for this inconsequent smile made nothing clear, though
+it seemed to prove, indeed, that she had a sweetness and softness that
+reverted instinctively to the pardon of offenses. “It has never occurred
+to Mr. Winterbourne to offer me any tea,” she said with her little
+tormenting manner.
+
+“I have offered you advice,” Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+“I prefer weak tea!” cried Daisy, and she went off with the brilliant
+Giovanelli. She sat with him in the adjoining room, in the embrasure
+of the window, for the rest of the evening. There was an interesting
+performance at the piano, but neither of these young people gave heed
+to it. When Daisy came to take leave of Mrs. Walker, this lady
+conscientiously repaired the weakness of which she had been guilty at
+the moment of the young girl’s arrival. She turned her back straight
+upon Miss Miller and left her to depart with what grace she might.
+Winterbourne was standing near the door; he saw it all. Daisy turned
+very pale and looked at her mother, but Mrs. Miller was humbly
+unconscious of any violation of the usual social forms. She appeared,
+indeed, to have felt an incongruous impulse to draw attention to her own
+striking observance of them. “Good night, Mrs. Walker,” she said; “we’ve
+had a beautiful evening. You see, if I let Daisy come to parties without
+me, I don’t want her to go away without me.” Daisy turned away, looking
+with a pale, grave face at the circle near the door; Winterbourne saw
+that, for the first moment, she was too much shocked and puzzled even
+for indignation. He on his side was greatly touched.
+
+“That was very cruel,” he said to Mrs. Walker.
+
+“She never enters my drawing room again!” replied his hostess.
+
+Since Winterbourne was not to meet her in Mrs. Walker’s drawing room, he
+went as often as possible to Mrs. Miller’s hotel. The ladies were rarely
+at home, but when he found them, the devoted Giovanelli was always
+present. Very often the brilliant little Roman was in the drawing room
+with Daisy alone, Mrs. Miller being apparently constantly of the opinion
+that discretion is the better part of surveillance. Winterbourne
+noted, at first with surprise, that Daisy on these occasions was never
+embarrassed or annoyed by his own entrance; but he very presently began
+to feel that she had no more surprises for him; the unexpected in her
+behavior was the only thing to expect. She showed no displeasure at
+her tete-a-tete with Giovanelli being interrupted; she could chatter as
+freshly and freely with two gentlemen as with one; there was always,
+in her conversation, the same odd mixture of audacity and puerility.
+Winterbourne remarked to himself that if she was seriously interested in
+Giovanelli, it was very singular that she should not take more trouble
+to preserve the sanctity of their interviews; and he liked her the more
+for her innocent-looking indifference and her apparently inexhaustible
+good humor. He could hardly have said why, but she seemed to him a girl
+who would never be jealous. At the risk of exciting a somewhat derisive
+smile on the reader’s part, I may affirm that with regard to the women
+who had hitherto interested him, it very often seemed to Winterbourne
+among the possibilities that, given certain contingencies, he should be
+afraid--literally afraid--of these ladies; he had a pleasant sense that
+he should never be afraid of Daisy Miller. It must be added that this
+sentiment was not altogether flattering to Daisy; it was part of his
+conviction, or rather of his apprehension, that she would prove a very
+light young person.
+
+But she was evidently very much interested in Giovanelli. She looked at
+him whenever he spoke; she was perpetually telling him to do this and
+to do that; she was constantly “chaffing” and abusing him. She appeared
+completely to have forgotten that Winterbourne had said anything to
+displease her at Mrs. Walker’s little party. One Sunday afternoon,
+having gone to St. Peter’s with his aunt, Winterbourne perceived
+Daisy strolling about the great church in company with the inevitable
+Giovanelli. Presently he pointed out the young girl and her cavalier to
+Mrs. Costello. This lady looked at them a moment through her eyeglass,
+and then she said:
+
+“That’s what makes you so pensive in these days, eh?”
+
+“I had not the least idea I was pensive,” said the young man.
+
+“You are very much preoccupied; you are thinking of something.”
+
+“And what is it,” he asked, “that you accuse me of thinking of?”
+
+“Of that young lady’s--Miss Baker’s, Miss Chandler’s--what’s her
+name?--Miss Miller’s intrigue with that little barber’s block.”
+
+“Do you call it an intrigue,” Winterbourne asked--“an affair that goes
+on with such peculiar publicity?”
+
+“That’s their folly,” said Mrs. Costello; “it’s not their merit.”
+
+“No,” rejoined Winterbourne, with something of that pensiveness to which
+his aunt had alluded. “I don’t believe that there is anything to be
+called an intrigue.”
+
+“I have heard a dozen people speak of it; they say she is quite carried
+away by him.”
+
+“They are certainly very intimate,” said Winterbourne.
+
+Mrs. Costello inspected the young couple again with her optical
+instrument. “He is very handsome. One easily sees how it is. She thinks
+him the most elegant man in the world, the finest gentleman. She has
+never seen anything like him; he is better, even, than the courier.
+It was the courier probably who introduced him; and if he succeeds in
+marrying the young lady, the courier will come in for a magnificent
+commission.”
+
+“I don’t believe she thinks of marrying him,” said Winterbourne, “and I
+don’t believe he hopes to marry her.”
+
+“You may be very sure she thinks of nothing. She goes on from day to
+day, from hour to hour, as they did in the Golden Age. I can imagine
+nothing more vulgar. And at the same time,” added Mrs. Costello, “depend
+upon it that she may tell you any moment that she is ‘engaged.’”
+
+“I think that is more than Giovanelli expects,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Who is Giovanelli?”
+
+“The little Italian. I have asked questions about him and learned
+something. He is apparently a perfectly respectable little man. I
+believe he is, in a small way, a cavaliere avvocato. But he doesn’t
+move in what are called the first circles. I think it is really not
+absolutely impossible that the courier introduced him. He is evidently
+immensely charmed with Miss Miller. If she thinks him the finest
+gentleman in the world, he, on his side, has never found himself in
+personal contact with such splendor, such opulence, such expensiveness
+as this young lady’s. And then she must seem to him wonderfully pretty
+and interesting. I rather doubt that he dreams of marrying her. That
+must appear to him too impossible a piece of luck. He has nothing but
+his handsome face to offer, and there is a substantial Mr. Miller in
+that mysterious land of dollars. Giovanelli knows that he hasn’t a title
+to offer. If he were only a count or a marchese! He must wonder at his
+luck, at the way they have taken him up.”
+
+“He accounts for it by his handsome face and thinks Miss Miller a young
+lady qui se passe ses fantaisies!” said Mrs. Costello.
+
+“It is very true,” Winterbourne pursued, “that Daisy and her mamma have
+not yet risen to that stage of--what shall I call it?--of culture at
+which the idea of catching a count or a marchese begins. I believe that
+they are intellectually incapable of that conception.”
+
+“Ah! but the avvocato can’t believe it,” said Mrs. Costello.
+
+Of the observation excited by Daisy’s “intrigue,” Winterbourne gathered
+that day at St. Peter’s sufficient evidence. A dozen of the American
+colonists in Rome came to talk with Mrs. Costello, who sat on a little
+portable stool at the base of one of the great pilasters. The vesper
+service was going forward in splendid chants and organ tones in the
+adjacent choir, and meanwhile, between Mrs. Costello and her friends,
+there was a great deal said about poor little Miss Miller’s going really
+“too far.” Winterbourne was not pleased with what he heard, but when,
+coming out upon the great steps of the church, he saw Daisy, who had
+emerged before him, get into an open cab with her accomplice and roll
+away through the cynical streets of Rome, he could not deny to himself
+that she was going very far indeed. He felt very sorry for her--not
+exactly that he believed that she had completely lost her head, but
+because it was painful to hear so much that was pretty, and undefended,
+and natural assigned to a vulgar place among the categories of disorder.
+He made an attempt after this to give a hint to Mrs. Miller. He met one
+day in the Corso a friend, a tourist like himself, who had just come
+out of the Doria Palace, where he had been walking through the beautiful
+gallery. His friend talked for a moment about the superb portrait
+of Innocent X by Velasquez which hangs in one of the cabinets of the
+palace, and then said, “And in the same cabinet, by the way, I had the
+pleasure of contemplating a picture of a different kind--that pretty
+American girl whom you pointed out to me last week.” In answer to
+Winterbourne’s inquiries, his friend narrated that the pretty American
+girl--prettier than ever--was seated with a companion in the secluded
+nook in which the great papal portrait was enshrined.
+
+“Who was her companion?” asked Winterbourne.
+
+“A little Italian with a bouquet in his buttonhole. The girl is
+delightfully pretty, but I thought I understood from you the other day
+that she was a young lady du meilleur monde.”
+
+“So she is!” answered Winterbourne; and having assured himself that his
+informant had seen Daisy and her companion but five minutes before, he
+jumped into a cab and went to call on Mrs. Miller. She was at home; but
+she apologized to him for receiving him in Daisy’s absence.
+
+“She’s gone out somewhere with Mr. Giovanelli,” said Mrs. Miller. “She’s
+always going round with Mr. Giovanelli.”
+
+“I have noticed that they are very intimate,” Winterbourne observed.
+
+“Oh, it seems as if they couldn’t live without each other!” said Mrs.
+Miller. “Well, he’s a real gentleman, anyhow. I keep telling Daisy she’s
+engaged!”
+
+“And what does Daisy say?”
+
+“Oh, she says she isn’t engaged. But she might as well be!” this
+impartial parent resumed; “she goes on as if she was. But I’ve made Mr.
+Giovanelli promise to tell me, if SHE doesn’t. I should want to write to
+Mr. Miller about it--shouldn’t you?”
+
+Winterbourne replied that he certainly should; and the state of mind of
+Daisy’s mamma struck him as so unprecedented in the annals of parental
+vigilance that he gave up as utterly irrelevant the attempt to place her
+upon her guard.
+
+After this Daisy was never at home, and Winterbourne ceased to meet her
+at the houses of their common acquaintances, because, as he perceived,
+these shrewd people had quite made up their minds that she was going too
+far. They ceased to invite her; and they intimated that they desired to
+express to observant Europeans the great truth that, though Miss
+Daisy Miller was a young American lady, her behavior was not
+representative--was regarded by her compatriots as abnormal.
+Winterbourne wondered how she felt about all the cold shoulders that
+were turned toward her, and sometimes it annoyed him to suspect that
+she did not feel at all. He said to himself that she was too light and
+childish, too uncultivated and unreasoning, too provincial, to have
+reflected upon her ostracism, or even to have perceived it. Then at
+other moments he believed that she carried about in her elegant and
+irresponsible little organism a defiant, passionate, perfectly observant
+consciousness of the impression she produced. He asked himself whether
+Daisy’s defiance came from the consciousness of innocence, or from her
+being, essentially, a young person of the reckless class. It must be
+admitted that holding one’s self to a belief in Daisy’s “innocence” came
+to seem to Winterbourne more and more a matter of fine-spun gallantry.
+As I have already had occasion to relate, he was angry at finding
+himself reduced to chopping logic about this young lady; he was vexed at
+his want of instinctive certitude as to how far her eccentricities were
+generic, national, and how far they were personal. From either view
+of them he had somehow missed her, and now it was too late. She was
+“carried away” by Mr. Giovanelli.
+
+A few days after his brief interview with her mother, he encountered her
+in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the Palace of
+the Caesars. The early Roman spring had filled the air with bloom and
+perfume, and the rugged surface of the Palatine was muffled with tender
+verdure. Daisy was strolling along the top of one of those great mounds
+of ruin that are embanked with mossy marble and paved with monumental
+inscriptions. It seemed to him that Rome had never been so lovely as
+just then. He stood, looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and
+color that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors,
+and feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity of the place
+reaffirm themselves in mysterious interfusion. It seemed to him also
+that Daisy had never looked so pretty, but this had been an observation
+of his whenever he met her. Giovanelli was at her side, and Giovanelli,
+too, wore an aspect of even unwonted brilliancy.
+
+“Well,” said Daisy, “I should think you would be lonesome!”
+
+“Lonesome?” asked Winterbourne.
+
+“You are always going round by yourself. Can’t you get anyone to walk
+with you?”
+
+“I am not so fortunate,” said Winterbourne, “as your companion.”
+
+Giovanelli, from the first, had treated Winterbourne with distinguished
+politeness. He listened with a deferential air to his remarks; he
+laughed punctiliously at his pleasantries; he seemed disposed to testify
+to his belief that Winterbourne was a superior young man. He carried
+himself in no degree like a jealous wooer; he had obviously a great deal
+of tact; he had no objection to your expecting a little humility of him.
+It even seemed to Winterbourne at times that Giovanelli would find a
+certain mental relief in being able to have a private understanding with
+him--to say to him, as an intelligent man, that, bless you, HE knew
+how extraordinary was this young lady, and didn’t flatter himself with
+delusive--or at least TOO delusive--hopes of matrimony and dollars. On
+this occasion he strolled away from his companion to pluck a sprig of
+almond blossom, which he carefully arranged in his buttonhole.
+
+“I know why you say that,” said Daisy, watching Giovanelli. “Because you
+think I go round too much with HIM.” And she nodded at her attendant.
+
+“Every one thinks so--if you care to know,” said Winterbourne.
+
+“Of course I care to know!” Daisy exclaimed seriously. “But I don’t
+believe it. They are only pretending to be shocked. They don’t really
+care a straw what I do. Besides, I don’t go round so much.”
+
+“I think you will find they do care. They will show it disagreeably.”
+
+Daisy looked at him a moment. “How disagreeably?”
+
+“Haven’t you noticed anything?” Winterbourne asked.
+
+“I have noticed you. But I noticed you were as stiff as an umbrella the
+first time I saw you.”
+
+“You will find I am not so stiff as several others,” said Winterbourne,
+smiling.
+
+“How shall I find it?”
+
+“By going to see the others.”
+
+“What will they do to me?”
+
+“They will give you the cold shoulder. Do you know what that means?”
+
+Daisy was looking at him intently; she began to color. “Do you mean as
+Mrs. Walker did the other night?”
+
+“Exactly!” said Winterbourne.
+
+She looked away at Giovanelli, who was decorating himself with his
+almond blossom. Then looking back at Winterbourne, “I shouldn’t think
+you would let people be so unkind!” she said.
+
+“How can I help it?” he asked.
+
+“I should think you would say something.”
+
+“I do say something;” and he paused a moment. “I say that your mother
+tells me that she believes you are engaged.”
+
+“Well, she does,” said Daisy very simply.
+
+Winterbourne began to laugh. “And does Randolph believe it?” he asked.
+
+“I guess Randolph doesn’t believe anything,” said Daisy. Randolph’s
+skepticism excited Winterbourne to further hilarity, and he observed
+that Giovanelli was coming back to them. Daisy, observing it too,
+addressed herself again to her countryman. “Since you have mentioned
+it,” she said, “I AM engaged.” * * * Winterbourne looked at her; he had
+stopped laughing. “You don’t believe!” she added.
+
+He was silent a moment; and then, “Yes, I believe it,” he said.
+
+“Oh, no, you don’t!” she answered. “Well, then--I am not!”
+
+The young girl and her cicerone were on their way to the gate of the
+enclosure, so that Winterbourne, who had but lately entered, presently
+took leave of them. A week afterward he went to dine at a beautiful
+villa on the Caelian Hill, and, on arriving, dismissed his hired
+vehicle. The evening was charming, and he promised himself the
+satisfaction of walking home beneath the Arch of Constantine and past
+the vaguely lighted monuments of the Forum. There was a waning moon in
+the sky, and her radiance was not brilliant, but she was veiled in a
+thin cloud curtain which seemed to diffuse and equalize it. When, on his
+return from the villa (it was eleven o’clock), Winterbourne approached
+the dusky circle of the Colosseum, it recurred to him, as a lover of
+the picturesque, that the interior, in the pale moonshine, would be well
+worth a glance. He turned aside and walked to one of the empty arches,
+near which, as he observed, an open carriage--one of the little Roman
+streetcabs--was stationed. Then he passed in, among the cavernous
+shadows of the great structure, and emerged upon the clear and silent
+arena. The place had never seemed to him more impressive. One-half of
+the gigantic circus was in deep shade, the other was sleeping in the
+luminous dusk. As he stood there he began to murmur Byron’s famous
+lines, out of “Manfred,” but before he had finished his quotation
+he remembered that if nocturnal meditations in the Colosseum are
+recommended by the poets, they are deprecated by the doctors. The
+historic atmosphere was there, certainly; but the historic atmosphere,
+scientifically considered, was no better than a villainous miasma.
+Winterbourne walked to the middle of the arena, to take a more general
+glance, intending thereafter to make a hasty retreat. The great cross in
+the center was covered with shadow; it was only as he drew near it that
+he made it out distinctly. Then he saw that two persons were stationed
+upon the low steps which formed its base. One of these was a woman,
+seated; her companion was standing in front of her.
+
+Presently the sound of the woman’s voice came to him distinctly in the
+warm night air. “Well, he looks at us as one of the old lions or tigers
+may have looked at the Christian martyrs!” These were the words he
+heard, in the familiar accent of Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+“Let us hope he is not very hungry,” responded the ingenious Giovanelli.
+“He will have to take me first; you will serve for dessert!”
+
+Winterbourne stopped, with a sort of horror, and, it must be added, with
+a sort of relief. It was as if a sudden illumination had been flashed
+upon the ambiguity of Daisy’s behavior, and the riddle had become easy
+to read. She was a young lady whom a gentleman need no longer be
+at pains to respect. He stood there, looking at her--looking at her
+companion and not reflecting that though he saw them vaguely, he himself
+must have been more brightly visible. He felt angry with himself that he
+had bothered so much about the right way of regarding Miss Daisy Miller.
+Then, as he was going to advance again, he checked himself, not from the
+fear that he was doing her injustice, but from a sense of the danger
+of appearing unbecomingly exhilarated by this sudden revulsion from
+cautious criticism. He turned away toward the entrance of the place,
+but, as he did so, he heard Daisy speak again.
+
+“Why, it was Mr. Winterbourne! He saw me, and he cuts me!”
+
+What a clever little reprobate she was, and how smartly she played at
+injured innocence! But he wouldn’t cut her. Winterbourne came forward
+again and went toward the great cross. Daisy had got up; Giovanelli
+lifted his hat. Winterbourne had now begun to think simply of the
+craziness, from a sanitary point of view, of a delicate young girl
+lounging away the evening in this nest of malaria. What if she WERE
+a clever little reprobate? that was no reason for her dying of the
+perniciosa. “How long have you been here?” he asked almost brutally.
+
+Daisy, lovely in the flattering moonlight, looked at him a moment.
+Then--“All the evening,” she answered, gently. * * * “I never saw
+anything so pretty.”
+
+“I am afraid,” said Winterbourne, “that you will not think Roman fever
+very pretty. This is the way people catch it. I wonder,” he added,
+turning to Giovanelli, “that you, a native Roman, should countenance
+such a terrible indiscretion.”
+
+“Ah,” said the handsome native, “for myself I am not afraid.”
+
+“Neither am I--for you! I am speaking for this young lady.”
+
+Giovanelli lifted his well-shaped eyebrows and showed his brilliant
+teeth. But he took Winterbourne’s rebuke with docility. “I told the
+signorina it was a grave indiscretion, but when was the signorina ever
+prudent?”
+
+“I never was sick, and I don’t mean to be!” the signorina declared. “I
+don’t look like much, but I’m healthy! I was bound to see the Colosseum
+by moonlight; I shouldn’t have wanted to go home without that; and we
+have had the most beautiful time, haven’t we, Mr. Giovanelli? If there
+has been any danger, Eugenio can give me some pills. He has got some
+splendid pills.”
+
+“I should advise you,” said Winterbourne, “to drive home as fast as
+possible and take one!”
+
+“What you say is very wise,” Giovanelli rejoined. “I will go and make
+sure the carriage is at hand.” And he went forward rapidly.
+
+Daisy followed with Winterbourne. He kept looking at her; she seemed
+not in the least embarrassed. Winterbourne said nothing; Daisy chattered
+about the beauty of the place. “Well, I HAVE seen the Colosseum by
+moonlight!” she exclaimed. “That’s one good thing.” Then, noticing
+Winterbourne’s silence, she asked him why he didn’t speak. He made
+no answer; he only began to laugh. They passed under one of the dark
+archways; Giovanelli was in front with the carriage. Here Daisy stopped
+a moment, looking at the young American. “DID you believe I was engaged,
+the other day?” she asked.
+
+“It doesn’t matter what I believed the other day,” said Winterbourne,
+still laughing.
+
+“Well, what do you believe now?”
+
+“I believe that it makes very little difference whether you are engaged
+or not!”
+
+He felt the young girl’s pretty eyes fixed upon him through the thick
+gloom of the archway; she was apparently going to answer. But Giovanelli
+hurried her forward. “Quick! quick!” he said; “if we get in by midnight
+we are quite safe.”
+
+Daisy took her seat in the carriage, and the fortunate Italian placed
+himself beside her. “Don’t forget Eugenio’s pills!” said Winterbourne as
+he lifted his hat.
+
+“I don’t care,” said Daisy in a little strange tone, “whether I have
+Roman fever or not!” Upon this the cab driver cracked his whip, and they
+rolled away over the desultory patches of the antique pavement.
+
+Winterbourne, to do him justice, as it were, mentioned to no one that
+he had encountered Miss Miller, at midnight, in the Colosseum with a
+gentleman; but nevertheless, a couple of days later, the fact of her
+having been there under these circumstances was known to every member
+of the little American circle, and commented accordingly. Winterbourne
+reflected that they had of course known it at the hotel, and that, after
+Daisy’s return, there had been an exchange of remarks between the porter
+and the cab driver. But the young man was conscious, at the same moment,
+that it had ceased to be a matter of serious regret to him that the
+little American flirt should be “talked about” by low-minded menials.
+These people, a day or two later, had serious information to give: the
+little American flirt was alarmingly ill. Winterbourne, when the rumor
+came to him, immediately went to the hotel for more news. He found that
+two or three charitable friends had preceded him, and that they were
+being entertained in Mrs. Miller’s salon by Randolph.
+
+“It’s going round at night,” said Randolph--“that’s what made her sick.
+She’s always going round at night. I shouldn’t think she’d want to,
+it’s so plaguy dark. You can’t see anything here at night, except when
+there’s a moon. In America there’s always a moon!” Mrs. Miller was
+invisible; she was now, at least, giving her daughter the advantage of
+her society. It was evident that Daisy was dangerously ill.
+
+Winterbourne went often to ask for news of her, and once he saw Mrs.
+Miller, who, though deeply alarmed, was, rather to his surprise,
+perfectly composed, and, as it appeared, a most efficient and judicious
+nurse. She talked a good deal about Dr. Davis, but Winterbourne paid her
+the compliment of saying to himself that she was not, after all, such
+a monstrous goose. “Daisy spoke of you the other day,” she said to him.
+“Half the time she doesn’t know what she’s saying, but that time I think
+she did. She gave me a message she told me to tell you. She told me to
+tell you that she never was engaged to that handsome Italian. I am sure
+I am very glad; Mr. Giovanelli hasn’t been near us since she was taken
+ill. I thought he was so much of a gentleman; but I don’t call that
+very polite! A lady told me that he was afraid I was angry with him for
+taking Daisy round at night. Well, so I am, but I suppose he knows I’m a
+lady. I would scorn to scold him. Anyway, she says she’s not engaged. I
+don’t know why she wanted you to know, but she said to me three times,
+‘Mind you tell Mr. Winterbourne.’ And then she told me to ask if you
+remembered the time you went to that castle in Switzerland. But I said
+I wouldn’t give any such messages as that. Only, if she is not engaged,
+I’m sure I’m glad to know it.”
+
+But, as Winterbourne had said, it mattered very little. A week after
+this, the poor girl died; it had been a terrible case of the fever.
+Daisy’s grave was in the little Protestant cemetery, in an angle of
+the wall of imperial Rome, beneath the cypresses and the thick spring
+flowers. Winterbourne stood there beside it, with a number of other
+mourners, a number larger than the scandal excited by the young lady’s
+career would have led you to expect. Near him stood Giovanelli, who came
+nearer still before Winterbourne turned away. Giovanelli was very pale:
+on this occasion he had no flower in his buttonhole; he seemed to wish
+to say something. At last he said, “She was the most beautiful young
+lady I ever saw, and the most amiable;” and then he added in a moment,
+“and she was the most innocent.”
+
+Winterbourne looked at him and presently repeated his words, “And the
+most innocent?”
+
+“The most innocent!”
+
+Winterbourne felt sore and angry. “Why the devil,” he asked, “did you
+take her to that fatal place?”
+
+Mr. Giovanelli’s urbanity was apparently imperturbable. He looked on the
+ground a moment, and then he said, “For myself I had no fear; and she
+wanted to go.”
+
+“That was no reason!” Winterbourne declared.
+
+The subtle Roman again dropped his eyes. “If she had lived, I should
+have got nothing. She would never have married me, I am sure.”
+
+“She would never have married you?”
+
+“For a moment I hoped so. But no. I am sure.”
+
+Winterbourne listened to him: he stood staring at the raw protuberance
+among the April daisies. When he turned away again, Mr. Giovanelli, with
+his light, slow step, had retired.
+
+Winterbourne almost immediately left Rome; but the following summer he
+again met his aunt, Mrs. Costello at Vevey. Mrs. Costello was fond of
+Vevey. In the interval Winterbourne had often thought of Daisy Miller
+and her mystifying manners. One day he spoke of her to his aunt--said it
+was on his conscience that he had done her injustice.
+
+“I am sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. Costello. “How did your injustice
+affect her?”
+
+“She sent me a message before her death which I didn’t understand at the
+time; but I have understood it since. She would have appreciated one’s
+esteem.”
+
+“Is that a modest way,” asked Mrs. Costello, “of saying that she would
+have reciprocated one’s affection?”
+
+Winterbourne offered no answer to this question; but he presently said,
+“You were right in that remark that you made last summer. I was booked
+to make a mistake. I have lived too long in foreign parts.”
+
+Nevertheless, he went back to live at Geneva, whence there continue to
+come the most contradictory accounts of his motives of sojourn: a report
+that he is “studying” hard--an intimation that he is much interested in
+a very clever foreign lady.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Daisy Miller: a Study, by Henry James
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
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+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
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+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
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+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Daisy Miller
+
+Author: Henry James
+
+Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #208]
+Last Updated: September 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY MILLER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      DAISY MILLER: A STUDY
+    </h1>
+    <h3>
+      IN TWO PARTS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Henry James
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h4>
+      The text is that of the first American appearance in book form, 1879.
+    </h4>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Contents
+    </h2>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto">
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_PART"> PART II </a>
+          </p>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PART I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a particularly
+      comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels, for the entertainment
+      of tourists is the business of the place, which, as many travelers will
+      remember, is seated upon the edge of a remarkably blue lake&mdash;a lake
+      that it behooves every tourist to visit. The shore of the lake presents an
+      unbroken array of establishments of this order, of every category, from
+      the &ldquo;grand hotel&rdquo; of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front, a
+      hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof, to the little
+      Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name inscribed in German-looking
+      lettering upon a pink or yellow wall and an awkward summerhouse in the
+      angle of the garden. One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous, even
+      classical, being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors by an
+      air both of luxury and of maturity. In this region, in the month of June,
+      American travelers are extremely numerous; it may be said, indeed, that
+      Vevey assumes at this period some of the characteristics of an American
+      watering place. There are sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo,
+      of Newport and Saratoga. There is a flitting hither and thither of
+      &ldquo;stylish&rdquo; young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces, a rattle of dance
+      music in the morning hours, a sound of high-pitched voices at all times.
+      You receive an impression of these things at the excellent inn of the
+      &ldquo;Trois Couronnes&rdquo; and are transported in fancy to the Ocean House or to
+      Congress Hall. But at the &ldquo;Trois Couronnes,&rdquo; it must be added, there are
+      other features that are much at variance with these suggestions: neat
+      German waiters, who look like secretaries of legation; Russian princesses
+      sitting in the garden; little Polish boys walking about held by the hand,
+      with their governors; a view of the sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and
+      the picturesque towers of the Castle of Chillon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
+      uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
+      sat in the garden of the &ldquo;Trois Couronnes,&rdquo; looking about him, rather
+      idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned. It was a beautiful
+      summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young American looked at
+      things, they must have seemed to him charming. He had come from Geneva the
+      day before by the little steamer, to see his aunt, who was staying at the
+      hotel&mdash;Geneva having been for a long time his place of residence. But
+      his aunt had a headache&mdash;his aunt had almost always a headache&mdash;and
+      now she was shut up in her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at
+      liberty to wander about. He was some seven-and-twenty years of age; when
+      his friends spoke of him, they usually said that he was at Geneva
+      &ldquo;studying.&rdquo; When his enemies spoke of him, they said&mdash;but, after all,
+      he had no enemies; he was an extremely amiable fellow, and universally
+      liked. What I should say is, simply, that when certain persons spoke of
+      him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so much time at Geneva
+      was that he was extremely devoted to a lady who lived there&mdash;a
+      foreign lady&mdash;a person older than himself. Very few Americans&mdash;indeed,
+      I think none&mdash;had ever seen this lady, about whom there were some
+      singular stories. But Winterbourne had an old attachment for the little
+      metropolis of Calvinism; he had been put to school there as a boy, and he
+      had afterward gone to college there&mdash;circumstances which had led to
+      his forming a great many youthful friendships. Many of these he had kept,
+      and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After knocking at his aunt&rsquo;s door and learning that she was indisposed, he
+      had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to his breakfast.
+      He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking a small cup of
+      coffee, which had been served to him on a little table in the garden by
+      one of the waiters who looked like an attache. At last he finished his
+      coffee and lit a cigarette. Presently a small boy came walking along the
+      path&mdash;an urchin of nine or ten. The child, who was diminutive for his
+      years, had an aged expression of countenance, a pale complexion, and sharp
+      little features. He was dressed in knickerbockers, with red stockings,
+      which displayed his poor little spindle-shanks; he also wore a brilliant
+      red cravat. He carried in his hand a long alpenstock, the sharp point of
+      which he thrust into everything that he approached&mdash;the flowerbeds,
+      the garden benches, the trains of the ladies&rsquo; dresses. In front of
+      Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with a pair of bright, penetrating
+      little eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you give me a lump of sugar?&rdquo; he asked in a sharp, hard little voice&mdash;a
+      voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
+      service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained. &ldquo;Yes, you
+      may take one,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;but I don&rsquo;t think sugar is good for little
+      boys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of the
+      coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of his
+      knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place. He
+      poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne&rsquo;s bench and tried
+      to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, blazes; it&rsquo;s har-r-d!&rdquo; he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective in a
+      peculiar manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might have the honor of
+      claiming him as a fellow countryman. &ldquo;Take care you don&rsquo;t hurt your
+      teeth,&rdquo; he said, paternally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out. I have only got
+      seven teeth. My mother counted them last night, and one came out right
+      afterward. She said she&rsquo;d slap me if any more came out. I can&rsquo;t help it.
+      It&rsquo;s this old Europe. It&rsquo;s the climate that makes them come out. In
+      America they didn&rsquo;t come out. It&rsquo;s these hotels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was much amused. &ldquo;If you eat three lumps of sugar, your
+      mother will certainly slap you,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s got to give me some candy, then,&rdquo; rejoined his young interlocutor.
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t get any candy here&mdash;any American candy. American candy&rsquo;s the
+      best candy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And are American little boys the best little boys?&rdquo; asked Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I&rsquo;m an American boy,&rdquo; said the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you are one of the best!&rdquo; laughed Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you an American man?&rdquo; pursued this vivacious infant. And then, on
+      Winterbourne&rsquo;s affirmative reply&mdash;&ldquo;American men are the best,&rdquo; he
+      declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child, who had now
+      got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking about him, while he attacked
+      a second lump of sugar. Winterbourne wondered if he himself had been like
+      this in his infancy, for he had been brought to Europe at about this age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here comes my sister!&rdquo; cried the child in a moment. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s an American
+      girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful young lady
+      advancing. &ldquo;American girls are the best girls,&rdquo; he said cheerfully to his
+      young companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sister ain&rsquo;t the best!&rdquo; the child declared. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s always blowing at
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I imagine that is your fault, not hers,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. The young
+      lady meanwhile had drawn near. She was dressed in white muslin, with a
+      hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon. She was
+      bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol, with a deep
+      border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty. &ldquo;How
+      pretty they are!&rdquo; thought Winterbourne, straightening himself in his seat,
+      as if he were prepared to rise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the
+      garden, which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his
+      alpenstock into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing
+      about in the gravel and kicking it up not a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Randolph,&rdquo; said the young lady, &ldquo;what ARE you doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going up the Alps,&rdquo; replied Randolph. &ldquo;This is the way!&rdquo; And he gave
+      another little jump, scattering the pebbles about Winterbourne&rsquo;s ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the way they come down,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s an American man!&rdquo; cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked straight at
+      her brother. &ldquo;Well, I guess you had better be quiet,&rdquo; she simply observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He got
+      up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his cigarette.
+      &ldquo;This little boy and I have made acquaintance,&rdquo; he said, with great
+      civility. In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young man was not
+      at liberty to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely
+      occurring conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions could be better
+      than these?&mdash;a pretty American girl coming and standing in front of
+      you in a garden. This pretty American girl, however, on hearing
+      Winterbourne&rsquo;s observation, simply glanced at him; she then turned her
+      head and looked over the parapet, at the lake and the opposite mountains.
+      He wondered whether he had gone too far, but he decided that he must
+      advance farther, rather than retreat. While he was thinking of something
+      else to say, the young lady turned to the little boy again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to know where you got that pole,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bought it,&rdquo; responded Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean to say you&rsquo;re going to take it to Italy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am going to take it to Italy,&rdquo; the child declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
+      or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again. &ldquo;Well,
+      I guess you had better leave it somewhere,&rdquo; she said after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to Italy?&rdquo; Winterbourne inquired in a tone of great
+      respect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady glanced at him again. &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; she replied. And she said
+      nothing more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you&mdash;a&mdash;going over the Simplon?&rdquo; Winterbourne pursued, a
+      little embarrassed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I suppose it&rsquo;s some mountain. Randolph, what
+      mountain are we going over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going where?&rdquo; the child demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Italy,&rdquo; Winterbourne explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Randolph. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to go to Italy. I want to go
+      to America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!&rdquo; rejoined the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you get candy there?&rdquo; Randolph loudly inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not,&rdquo; said his sister. &ldquo;I guess you have had enough candy, and
+      mother thinks so too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t had any for ever so long&mdash;for a hundred weeks!&rdquo; cried the
+      boy, still jumping about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again; and
+      Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty of the view.
+      He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun to perceive that she
+      was not in the least embarrassed herself. There had not been the slightest
+      alteration in her charming complexion; she was evidently neither offended
+      nor flattered. If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed
+      not particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner. Yet,
+      as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects of interest
+      in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted, she gradually
+      gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then he saw that this
+      glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking. It was not, however, what
+      would have been called an immodest glance, for the young girl&rsquo;s eyes were
+      singularly honest and fresh. They were wonderfully pretty eyes; and,
+      indeed, Winterbourne had not seen for a long time anything prettier than
+      his fair countrywoman&rsquo;s various features&mdash;her complexion, her nose,
+      her ears, her teeth. He had a great relish for feminine beauty; he was
+      addicted to observing and analyzing it; and as regards this young lady&rsquo;s
+      face he made several observations. It was not at all insipid, but it was
+      not exactly expressive; and though it was eminently delicate, Winterbourne
+      mentally accused it&mdash;very forgivingly&mdash;of a want of finish. He
+      thought it very possible that Master Randolph&rsquo;s sister was a coquette; he
+      was sure she had a spirit of her own; but in her bright, sweet,
+      superficial little visage there was no mockery, no irony. Before long it
+      became obvious that she was much disposed toward conversation. She told
+      him that they were going to Rome for the winter&mdash;she and her mother
+      and Randolph. She asked him if he was a &ldquo;real American&rdquo;; she shouldn&rsquo;t
+      have taken him for one; he seemed more like a German&mdash;this was said
+      after a little hesitation&mdash;especially when he spoke. Winterbourne,
+      laughing, answered that he had met Germans who spoke like Americans, but
+      that he had not, so far as he remembered, met an American who spoke like a
+      German. Then he asked her if she should not be more comfortable in sitting
+      upon the bench which he had just quitted. She answered that she liked
+      standing up and walking about; but she presently sat down. She told him
+      she was from New York State&mdash;&ldquo;if you know where that is.&rdquo;
+       Winterbourne learned more about her by catching hold of her small,
+      slippery brother and making him stand a few minutes by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me your name, my boy,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Randolph C. Miller,&rdquo; said the boy sharply. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll tell you her name;&rdquo;
+       and he leveled his alpenstock at his sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better wait till you are asked!&rdquo; said this young lady calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like very much to know your name,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name is Daisy Miller!&rdquo; cried the child. &ldquo;But that isn&rsquo;t her real
+      name; that isn&rsquo;t her name on her cards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity you haven&rsquo;t got one of my cards!&rdquo; said Miss Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her real name is Annie P. Miller,&rdquo; the boy went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask him HIS name,&rdquo; said his sister, indicating Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But on this point Randolph seemed perfectly indifferent; he continued to
+      supply information with regard to his own family. &ldquo;My father&rsquo;s name is
+      Ezra B. Miller,&rdquo; he announced. &ldquo;My father ain&rsquo;t in Europe; my father&rsquo;s in
+      a better place than Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in which the
+      child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller had been removed to the
+      sphere of celestial reward. But Randolph immediately added, &ldquo;My father&rsquo;s
+      in Schenectady. He&rsquo;s got a big business. My father&rsquo;s rich, you bet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; ejaculated Miss Miller, lowering her parasol and looking at the
+      embroidered border. Winterbourne presently released the child, who
+      departed, dragging his alpenstock along the path. &ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t like
+      Europe,&rdquo; said the young girl. &ldquo;He wants to go back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Schenectady, you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he wants to go right home. He hasn&rsquo;t got any boys here. There is one
+      boy here, but he always goes round with a teacher; they won&rsquo;t let him
+      play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your brother hasn&rsquo;t any teacher?&rdquo; Winterbourne inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother thought of getting him one, to travel round with us. There was a
+      lady told her of a very good teacher; an American lady&mdash;perhaps you
+      know her&mdash;Mrs. Sanders. I think she came from Boston. She told her of
+      this teacher, and we thought of getting him to travel round with us. But
+      Randolph said he didn&rsquo;t want a teacher traveling round with us. He said he
+      wouldn&rsquo;t have lessons when he was in the cars. And we ARE in the cars
+      about half the time. There was an English lady we met in the cars&mdash;I
+      think her name was Miss Featherstone; perhaps you know her. She wanted to
+      know why I didn&rsquo;t give Randolph lessons&mdash;give him &lsquo;instruction,&rsquo; she
+      called it. I guess he could give me more instruction than I could give
+      him. He&rsquo;s very smart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Winterbourne; &ldquo;he seems very smart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother&rsquo;s going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy. Can
+      you get good teachers in Italy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good, I should think,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or else she&rsquo;s going to find some school. He ought to learn some more.
+      He&rsquo;s only nine. He&rsquo;s going to college.&rdquo; And in this way Miss Miller
+      continued to converse upon the affairs of her family and upon other
+      topics. She sat there with her extremely pretty hands, ornamented with
+      very brilliant rings, folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now
+      resting upon those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden, the
+      people who passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to Winterbourne
+      as if she had known him a long time. He found it very pleasant. It was
+      many years since he had heard a young girl talk so much. It might have
+      been said of this unknown young lady, who had come and sat down beside him
+      upon a bench, that she chattered. She was very quiet; she sat in a
+      charming, tranquil attitude; but her lips and her eyes were constantly
+      moving. She had a soft, slender, agreeable voice, and her tone was
+      decidedly sociable. She gave Winterbourne a history of her movements and
+      intentions and those of her mother and brother, in Europe, and enumerated,
+      in particular, the various hotels at which they had stopped. &ldquo;That English
+      lady in the cars,&rdquo; she said&mdash;&ldquo;Miss Featherstone&mdash;asked me if we
+      didn&rsquo;t all live in hotels in America. I told her I had never been in so
+      many hotels in my life as since I came to Europe. I have never seen so
+      many&mdash;it&rsquo;s nothing but hotels.&rdquo; But Miss Miller did not make this
+      remark with a querulous accent; she appeared to be in the best humor with
+      everything. She declared that the hotels were very good, when once you got
+      used to their ways, and that Europe was perfectly sweet. She was not
+      disappointed&mdash;not a bit. Perhaps it was because she had heard so much
+      about it before. She had ever so many intimate friends that had been there
+      ever so many times. And then she had had ever so many dresses and things
+      from Paris. Whenever she put on a Paris dress she felt as if she were in
+      Europe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a kind of a wishing cap,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Miller without examining this analogy; &ldquo;it always made me
+      wish I was here. But I needn&rsquo;t have done that for dresses. I am sure they
+      send all the pretty ones to America; you see the most frightful things
+      here. The only thing I don&rsquo;t like,&rdquo; she proceeded, &ldquo;is the society. There
+      isn&rsquo;t any society; or, if there is, I don&rsquo;t know where it keeps itself. Do
+      you? I suppose there is some society somewhere, but I haven&rsquo;t seen
+      anything of it. I&rsquo;m very fond of society, and I have always had a great
+      deal of it. I don&rsquo;t mean only in Schenectady, but in New York. I used to
+      go to New York every winter. In New York I had lots of society. Last
+      winter I had seventeen dinners given me; and three of them were by
+      gentlemen,&rdquo; added Daisy Miller. &ldquo;I have more friends in New York than in
+      Schenectady&mdash;more gentleman friends; and more young lady friends
+      too,&rdquo; she resumed in a moment. She paused again for an instant; she was
+      looking at Winterbourne with all her prettiness in her lively eyes and in
+      her light, slightly monotonous smile. &ldquo;I have always had,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;a
+      great deal of gentlemen&rsquo;s society.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Winterbourne was amused, perplexed, and decidedly charmed. He had
+      never yet heard a young girl express herself in just this fashion; never,
+      at least, save in cases where to say such things seemed a kind of
+      demonstrative evidence of a certain laxity of deportment. And yet was he
+      to accuse Miss Daisy Miller of actual or potential inconduite, as they
+      said at Geneva? He felt that he had lived at Geneva so long that he had
+      lost a good deal; he had become dishabituated to the American tone. Never,
+      indeed, since he had grown old enough to appreciate things, had he
+      encountered a young American girl of so pronounced a type as this.
+      Certainly she was very charming, but how deucedly sociable! Was she simply
+      a pretty girl from New York State? Were they all like that, the pretty
+      girls who had a good deal of gentlemen&rsquo;s society? Or was she also a
+      designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person? Winterbourne had
+      lost his instinct in this matter, and his reason could not help him. Miss
+      Daisy Miller looked extremely innocent. Some people had told him that,
+      after all, American girls were exceedingly innocent; and others had told
+      him that, after all, they were not. He was inclined to think Miss Daisy
+      Miller was a flirt&mdash;a pretty American flirt. He had never, as yet,
+      had any relations with young ladies of this category. He had known, here
+      in Europe, two or three women&mdash;persons older than Miss Daisy Miller,
+      and provided, for respectability&rsquo;s sake, with husbands&mdash;who were
+      great coquettes&mdash;dangerous, terrible women, with whom one&rsquo;s relations
+      were liable to take a serious turn. But this young girl was not a coquette
+      in that sense; she was very unsophisticated; she was only a pretty
+      American flirt. Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found the
+      formula that applied to Miss Daisy Miller. He leaned back in his seat; he
+      remarked to himself that she had the most charming nose he had ever seen;
+      he wondered what were the regular conditions and limitations of one&rsquo;s
+      intercourse with a pretty American flirt. It presently became apparent
+      that he was on the way to learn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you been to that old castle?&rdquo; asked the young girl, pointing with
+      her parasol to the far-gleaming walls of the Chateau de Chillon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, formerly, more than once,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;You too, I suppose,
+      have seen it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; we haven&rsquo;t been there. I want to go there dreadfully. Of course I
+      mean to go there. I wouldn&rsquo;t go away from here without having seen that
+      old castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a very pretty excursion,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;and very easy to make.
+      You can drive, you know, or you can go by the little steamer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can go in the cars,&rdquo; said Miss Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; you can go in the cars,&rdquo; Winterbourne assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our courier says they take you right up to the castle,&rdquo; the young girl
+      continued. &ldquo;We were going last week, but my mother gave out. She suffers
+      dreadfully from dyspepsia. She said she couldn&rsquo;t go. Randolph wouldn&rsquo;t go
+      either; he says he doesn&rsquo;t think much of old castles. But I guess we&rsquo;ll go
+      this week, if we can get Randolph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your brother is not interested in ancient monuments?&rdquo; Winterbourne
+      inquired, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He says he don&rsquo;t care much about old castles. He&rsquo;s only nine. He wants to
+      stay at the hotel. Mother&rsquo;s afraid to leave him alone, and the courier
+      won&rsquo;t stay with him; so we haven&rsquo;t been to many places. But it will be too
+      bad if we don&rsquo;t go up there.&rdquo; And Miss Miller pointed again at the Chateau
+      de Chillon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think it might be arranged,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you
+      get some one to stay for the afternoon with Randolph?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Miller looked at him a moment, and then, very placidly, &ldquo;I wish YOU
+      would stay with him!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne hesitated a moment. &ldquo;I should much rather go to Chillon with
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With me?&rdquo; asked the young girl with the same placidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She didn&rsquo;t rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done; and
+      yet Winterbourne, conscious that he had been very bold, thought it
+      possible she was offended. &ldquo;With your mother,&rdquo; he answered very
+      respectfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it seemed that both his audacity and his respect were lost upon Miss
+      Daisy Miller. &ldquo;I guess my mother won&rsquo;t go, after all,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She
+      don&rsquo;t like to ride round in the afternoon. But did you really mean what
+      you said just now&mdash;that you would like to go up there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most earnestly,&rdquo; Winterbourne declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we may arrange it. If mother will stay with Randolph, I guess
+      Eugenio will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eugenio?&rdquo; the young man inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eugenio&rsquo;s our courier. He doesn&rsquo;t like to stay with Randolph; he&rsquo;s the
+      most fastidious man I ever saw. But he&rsquo;s a splendid courier. I guess he&rsquo;ll
+      stay at home with Randolph if mother does, and then we can go to the
+      castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne reflected for an instant as lucidly as possible&mdash;&ldquo;we&rdquo;
+       could only mean Miss Daisy Miller and himself. This program seemed almost
+      too agreeable for credence; he felt as if he ought to kiss the young
+      lady&rsquo;s hand. Possibly he would have done so and quite spoiled the project,
+      but at this moment another person, presumably Eugenio, appeared. A tall,
+      handsome man, with superb whiskers, wearing a velvet morning coat and a
+      brilliant watch chain, approached Miss Miller, looking sharply at her
+      companion. &ldquo;Oh, Eugenio!&rdquo; said Miss Miller with the friendliest accent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eugenio had looked at Winterbourne from head to foot; he now bowed gravely
+      to the young lady. &ldquo;I have the honor to inform mademoiselle that luncheon
+      is upon the table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Miller slowly rose. &ldquo;See here, Eugenio!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to that
+      old castle, anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the Chateau de Chillon, mademoiselle?&rdquo; the courier inquired.
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle has made arrangements?&rdquo; he added in a tone which struck
+      Winterbourne as very impertinent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eugenio&rsquo;s tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller&rsquo;s own apprehension, a
+      slightly ironical light upon the young girl&rsquo;s situation. She turned to
+      Winterbourne, blushing a little&mdash;a very little. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t back out?&rdquo;
+       she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not be happy till we go!&rdquo; he protested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are staying in this hotel?&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;And you are really an
+      American?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively. The young man, at
+      least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller; it
+      conveyed an imputation that she &ldquo;picked up&rdquo; acquaintances. &ldquo;I shall have
+      the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,&rdquo;
+       he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, we&rsquo;ll go some day,&rdquo; said Miss Miller. And she gave him a smile
+      and turned away. She put up her parasol and walked back to the inn beside
+      Eugenio. Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved away,
+      drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself that she had
+      the tournure of a princess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising to
+      present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller. As soon as the
+      former lady had got better of her headache, he waited upon her in her
+      apartment; and, after the proper inquiries in regard to her health, he
+      asked her if she had observed in the hotel an American family&mdash;a
+      mamma, a daughter, and a little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a courier?&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello. &ldquo;Oh yes, I have observed them. Seen
+      them&mdash;heard them&mdash;and kept out of their way.&rdquo; Mrs. Costello was
+      a widow with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently
+      intimated that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches,
+      she would probably have left a deeper impress upon her time. She had a
+      long, pale face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white
+      hair, which she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head.
+      She had two sons married in New York and another who was now in Europe.
+      This young man was amusing himself at Hamburg, and, though he was on his
+      travels, was rarely perceived to visit any particular city at the moment
+      selected by his mother for her own appearance there. Her nephew, who had
+      come up to Vevey expressly to see her, was therefore more attentive than
+      those who, as she said, were nearer to her. He had imbibed at Geneva the
+      idea that one must always be attentive to one&rsquo;s aunt. Mrs. Costello had
+      not seen him for many years, and she was greatly pleased with him,
+      manifesting her approbation by initiating him into many of the secrets of
+      that social sway which, as she gave him to understand, she exerted in the
+      American capital. She admitted that she was very exclusive; but, if he
+      were acquainted with New York, he would see that one had to be. And her
+      picture of the minutely hierarchical constitution of the society of that
+      city, which she presented to him in many different lights, was, to
+      Winterbourne&rsquo;s imagination, almost oppressively striking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller&rsquo;s place in
+      the social scale was low. &ldquo;I am afraid you don&rsquo;t approve of them,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are very common,&rdquo; Mrs. Costello declared. &ldquo;They are the sort of
+      Americans that one does one&rsquo;s duty by not&mdash;not accepting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you don&rsquo;t accept them?&rdquo; said the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t, my dear Frederick. I would if I could, but I can&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The young girl is very pretty,&rdquo; said Winterbourne in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course she&rsquo;s pretty. But she is very common.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see what you mean, of course,&rdquo; said Winterbourne after another pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has that charming look that they all have,&rdquo; his aunt resumed. &ldquo;I
+      can&rsquo;t think where they pick it up; and she dresses in perfection&mdash;no,
+      you don&rsquo;t know how well she dresses. I can&rsquo;t think where they get their
+      taste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear aunt, she is not, after all, a Comanche savage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a young lady,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello, &ldquo;who has an intimacy with her
+      mamma&rsquo;s courier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An intimacy with the courier?&rdquo; the young man demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the mother is just as bad! They treat the courier like a familiar
+      friend&mdash;like a gentleman. I shouldn&rsquo;t wonder if he dines with them.
+      Very likely they have never seen a man with such good manners, such fine
+      clothes, so like a gentleman. He probably corresponds to the young lady&rsquo;s
+      idea of a count. He sits with them in the garden in the evening. I think
+      he smokes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne listened with interest to these disclosures; they helped him
+      to make up his mind about Miss Daisy. Evidently she was rather wild.
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am not a courier, and yet she was very charming to
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better have said at first,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello with dignity,
+      &ldquo;that you had made her acquaintance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We simply met in the garden, and we talked a bit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tout bonnement! And pray what did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said I should take the liberty of introducing her to my admirable
+      aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am much obliged to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was to guarantee my respectability,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray who is to guarantee hers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you are cruel!&rdquo; said the young man. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s a very nice young girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t say that as if you believed it,&rdquo; Mrs. Costello observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is completely uncultivated,&rdquo; Winterbourne went on. &ldquo;But she is
+      wonderfully pretty, and, in short, she is very nice. To prove that I
+      believe it, I am going to take her to the Chateau de Chillon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You two are going off there together? I should say it proved just the
+      contrary. How long had you known her, may I ask, when this interesting
+      project was formed? You haven&rsquo;t been twenty-four hours in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have known her half an hour!&rdquo; said Winterbourne, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Costello. &ldquo;What a dreadful girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her nephew was silent for some moments. &ldquo;You really think, then,&rdquo; he began
+      earnestly, and with a desire for trustworthy information&mdash;&ldquo;you really
+      think that&mdash;&rdquo; But he paused again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think what, sir?&rdquo; said his aunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That she is the sort of young lady who expects a man, sooner or later, to
+      carry her off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the least idea what such young ladies expect a man to do. But I
+      really think that you had better not meddle with little American girls
+      that are uncultivated, as you call them. You have lived too long out of
+      the country. You will be sure to make some great mistake. You are too
+      innocent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear aunt, I am not so innocent,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, smiling and
+      curling his mustache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are guilty too, then!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t let
+      the poor girl know you then?&rdquo; he asked at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it literally true that she is going to the Chateau de Chillon with
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that she fully intends it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, my dear Frederick,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello, &ldquo;I must decline the honor
+      of her acquaintance. I am an old woman, but I am not too old, thank
+      Heaven, to be shocked!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don&rsquo;t they all do these things&mdash;the young girls in America?&rdquo;
+       Winterbourne inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Costello stared a moment. &ldquo;I should like to see my granddaughters do
+      them!&rdquo; she declared grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for Winterbourne
+      remembered to have heard that his pretty cousins in New York were
+      &ldquo;tremendous flirts.&rdquo; If, therefore, Miss Daisy Miller exceeded the liberal
+      margin allowed to these young ladies, it was probable that anything might
+      be expected of her. Winterbourne was impatient to see her again, and he
+      was vexed with himself that, by instinct, he should not appreciate her
+      justly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should say to
+      her about his aunt&rsquo;s refusal to become acquainted with her; but he
+      discovered, promptly enough, that with Miss Daisy Miller there was no
+      great need of walking on tiptoe. He found her that evening in the garden,
+      wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolent sylph, and swinging
+      to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld. It was ten o&rsquo;clock. He had
+      dined with his aunt, had been sitting with her since dinner, and had just
+      taken leave of her till the morrow. Miss Daisy Miller seemed very glad to
+      see him; she declared it was the longest evening she had ever passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you been all alone?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been walking round with mother. But mother gets tired walking
+      round,&rdquo; she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she gone to bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; she doesn&rsquo;t like to go to bed,&rdquo; said the young girl. &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t
+      sleep&mdash;not three hours. She says she doesn&rsquo;t know how she lives.
+      She&rsquo;s dreadfully nervous. I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She&rsquo;s
+      gone somewhere after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed.
+      He doesn&rsquo;t like to go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us hope she will persuade him,&rdquo; observed Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn&rsquo;t like her to talk to
+      him,&rdquo; said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s going to try to get Eugenio
+      to talk to him. But he isn&rsquo;t afraid of Eugenio. Eugenio&rsquo;s a splendid
+      courier, but he can&rsquo;t make much impression on Randolph! I don&rsquo;t believe
+      he&rsquo;ll go to bed before eleven.&rdquo; It appeared that Randolph&rsquo;s vigil was in
+      fact triumphantly prolonged, for Winterbourne strolled about with the
+      young girl for some time without meeting her mother. &ldquo;I have been looking
+      round for that lady you want to introduce me to,&rdquo; his companion resumed.
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s your aunt.&rdquo; Then, on Winterbourne&rsquo;s admitting the fact and
+      expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it, she said she had
+      heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid. She was very quiet and
+      very comme il faut; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no one, and she
+      never dined at the table d&rsquo;hote. Every two days she had a headache. &ldquo;I
+      think that&rsquo;s a lovely description, headache and all!&rdquo; said Miss Daisy,
+      chattering along in her thin, gay voice. &ldquo;I want to know her ever so much.
+      I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like her. She would
+      be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive; I&rsquo;m dying to be
+      exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive, mother and I. We don&rsquo;t speak to
+      everyone&mdash;or they don&rsquo;t speak to us. I suppose it&rsquo;s about the same
+      thing. Anyway, I shall be ever so glad to know your aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was embarrassed. &ldquo;She would be most happy,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but I
+      am afraid those headaches will interfere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl looked at him through the dusk. &ldquo;But I suppose she doesn&rsquo;t
+      have a headache every day,&rdquo; she said sympathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was silent a moment. &ldquo;She tells me she does,&rdquo; he answered at
+      last, not knowing what to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness was
+      still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her enormous
+      fan. &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t want to know me!&rdquo; she said suddenly. &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you say
+      so? You needn&rsquo;t be afraid. I&rsquo;m not afraid!&rdquo; And she gave a little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice; he was touched,
+      shocked, mortified by it. &ldquo;My dear young lady,&rdquo; he protested, &ldquo;she knows
+      no one. It&rsquo;s her wretched health.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t be
+      afraid,&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;Why should she want to know me?&rdquo; Then she paused
+      again; she was close to the parapet of the garden, and in front of her was
+      the starlit lake. There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in the
+      distance were dimly seen mountain forms. Daisy Miller looked out upon the
+      mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh. &ldquo;Gracious! she
+      IS exclusive!&rdquo; she said. Winterbourne wondered whether she was seriously
+      wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense of injury might be
+      such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to reassure and comfort her.
+      He had a pleasant sense that she would be very approachable for
+      consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant, quite ready to
+      sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit that she was a proud, rude
+      woman, and to declare that they needn&rsquo;t mind her. But before he had time
+      to commit himself to this perilous mixture of gallantry and impiety, the
+      young lady, resuming her walk, gave an exclamation in quite another tone.
+      &ldquo;Well, here&rsquo;s Mother! I guess she hasn&rsquo;t got Randolph to go to bed.&rdquo; The
+      figure of a lady appeared at a distance, very indistinct in the darkness,
+      and advancing with a slow and wavering movement. Suddenly it seemed to
+      pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure it is your mother? Can you distinguish her in this thick
+      dusk?&rdquo; Winterbourne asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; cried Miss Daisy Miller with a laugh; &ldquo;I guess I know my own
+      mother. And when she has got on my shawl, too! She is always wearing my
+      things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot
+      at which she had checked her steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid your mother doesn&rsquo;t see you,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;Or
+      perhaps,&rdquo; he added, thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke permissible&mdash;&ldquo;perhaps
+      she feels guilty about your shawl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s a fearful old thing!&rdquo; the young girl replied serenely. &ldquo;I told
+      her she could wear it. She won&rsquo;t come here because she sees you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, then,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;I had better leave you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; come on!&rdquo; urged Miss Daisy Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid your mother doesn&rsquo;t approve of my walking with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t for me; it&rsquo;s for you&mdash;that
+      is, it&rsquo;s for HER. Well, I don&rsquo;t know who it&rsquo;s for! But mother doesn&rsquo;t like
+      any of my gentlemen friends. She&rsquo;s right down timid. She always makes a
+      fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce them&mdash;almost
+      always. If I didn&rsquo;t introduce my gentlemen friends to Mother,&rdquo; the young
+      girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t think I was
+      natural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To introduce me,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;you must know my name.&rdquo; And he
+      proceeded to pronounce it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, I can&rsquo;t say all that!&rdquo; said his companion with a laugh. But by
+      this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near, walked
+      to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently at the
+      lake and turning her back to them. &ldquo;Mother!&rdquo; said the young girl in a tone
+      of decision. Upon this the elder lady turned round. &ldquo;Mr. Winterbourne,&rdquo;
+       said Miss Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very frankly and
+      prettily. &ldquo;Common,&rdquo; she was, as Mrs. Costello had pronounced her; yet it
+      was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness, she had a
+      singularly delicate grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye, a very
+      exiguous nose, and a large forehead, decorated with a certain amount of
+      thin, much frizzled hair. Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was dressed with
+      extreme elegance; she had enormous diamonds in her ears. So far as
+      Winterbourne could observe, she gave him no greeting&mdash;she certainly
+      was not looking at him. Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl straight.
+      &ldquo;What are you doing, poking round here?&rdquo; this young lady inquired, but by
+      no means with that harshness of accent which her choice of words may
+      imply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said her mother, turning toward the lake again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t think you&rsquo;d want that shawl!&rdquo; Daisy exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well I do!&rdquo; her mother answered with a little laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you get Randolph to go to bed?&rdquo; asked the young girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I couldn&rsquo;t induce him,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller very gently. &ldquo;He wants to
+      talk to the waiter. He likes to talk to that waiter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was telling Mr. Winterbourne,&rdquo; the young girl went on; and to the young
+      man&rsquo;s ear her tone might have indicated that she had been uttering his
+      name all her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; said Winterbourne; &ldquo;I have the pleasure of knowing your son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Randolph&rsquo;s mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake. But at
+      last she spoke. &ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t see how he lives!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyhow, it isn&rsquo;t so bad as it was at Dover,&rdquo; said Daisy Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what occurred at Dover?&rdquo; Winterbourne asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public
+      parlor. He wasn&rsquo;t in bed at twelve o&rsquo;clock: I know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was half-past twelve,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he sleep much during the day?&rdquo; Winterbourne demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess he doesn&rsquo;t sleep much,&rdquo; Daisy rejoined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish he would!&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;It seems as if he couldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he&rsquo;s real tiresome,&rdquo; Daisy pursued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, for some moments, there was silence. &ldquo;Well, Daisy Miller,&rdquo; said the
+      elder lady, presently, &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t think you&rsquo;d want to talk against your
+      own brother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he IS tiresome, Mother,&rdquo; said Daisy, quite without the asperity of
+      a retort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s only nine,&rdquo; urged Mrs. Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he wouldn&rsquo;t go to that castle,&rdquo; said the young girl. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going
+      there with Mr. Winterbourne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisy&rsquo;s mamma offered no
+      response. Winterbourne took for granted that she deeply disapproved of the
+      projected excursion; but he said to himself that she was a simple, easily
+      managed person, and that a few deferential protestations would take the
+      edge from her displeasure. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he began; &ldquo;your daughter has kindly
+      allowed me the honor of being her guide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of appealing
+      air, to Daisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther, gently humming
+      to herself. &ldquo;I presume you will go in the cars,&rdquo; said her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, or in the boat,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, of course, I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Mrs. Miller rejoined. &ldquo;I have never been
+      to that castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a pity you shouldn&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, beginning to feel
+      reassured as to her opposition. And yet he was quite prepared to find
+      that, as a matter of course, she meant to accompany her daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been thinking ever so much about going,&rdquo; she pursued; &ldquo;but it seems
+      as if we couldn&rsquo;t. Of course Daisy&mdash;she wants to go round. But
+      there&rsquo;s a lady here&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know her name&mdash;she says she
+      shouldn&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;d want to go to see castles HERE; she should think we&rsquo;d
+      want to wait till we got to Italy. It seems as if there would be so many
+      there,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Miller with an air of increasing confidence. &ldquo;Of
+      course we only want to see the principal ones. We visited several in
+      England,&rdquo; she presently added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah yes! in England there are beautiful castles,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;But
+      Chillon here, is very well worth seeing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if Daisy feels up to it&mdash;&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller, in a tone
+      impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise. &ldquo;It seems as
+      if there was nothing she wouldn&rsquo;t undertake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I think she&rsquo;ll enjoy it!&rdquo; Winterbourne declared. And he desired more
+      and more to make it a certainty that he was to have the privilege of a
+      tete-a-tete with the young lady, who was still strolling along in front of
+      them, softly vocalizing. &ldquo;You are not disposed, madam,&rdquo; he inquired, &ldquo;to
+      undertake it yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy&rsquo;s mother looked at him an instant askance, and then walked forward
+      in silence. Then&mdash;&ldquo;I guess she had better go alone,&rdquo; she said simply.
+      Winterbourne observed to himself that this was a very different type of
+      maternity from that of the vigilant matrons who massed themselves in the
+      forefront of social intercourse in the dark old city at the other end of
+      the lake. But his meditations were interrupted by hearing his name very
+      distinctly pronounced by Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s unprotected daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Winterbourne!&rdquo; murmured Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle!&rdquo; said the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want to take me out in a boat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At present?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; said Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Annie Miller!&rdquo; exclaimed her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg you, madam, to let her go,&rdquo; said Winterbourne ardently; for he had
+      never yet enjoyed the sensation of guiding through the summer starlight a
+      skiff freighted with a fresh and beautiful young girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t think she&rsquo;d want to,&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;I should think she&rsquo;d
+      rather go indoors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure Mr. Winterbourne wants to take me,&rdquo; Daisy declared. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s so
+      awfully devoted!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will row you over to Chillon in the starlight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo; said Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; ejaculated the elder lady again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t spoken to me for half an hour,&rdquo; her daughter went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been having some very pleasant conversation with your mother,&rdquo;
+       said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I want you to take me out in a boat!&rdquo; Daisy repeated. They had all
+      stopped, and she had turned round and was looking at Winterbourne. Her
+      face wore a charming smile, her pretty eyes were gleaming, she was
+      swinging her great fan about. No; it&rsquo;s impossible to be prettier than
+      that, thought Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are half a dozen boats moored at that landing place,&rdquo; he said,
+      pointing to certain steps which descended from the garden to the lake. &ldquo;If
+      you will do me the honor to accept my arm, we will go and select one of
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy stood there smiling; she threw back her head and gave a little,
+      light laugh. &ldquo;I like a gentleman to be formal!&rdquo; she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you it&rsquo;s a formal offer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was bound I would make you say something,&rdquo; Daisy went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, it&rsquo;s not very difficult,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;But I am afraid
+      you are chaffing me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not, sir,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Miller very gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do, then, let me give you a row,&rdquo; he said to the young girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite lovely, the way you say that!&rdquo; cried Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be still more lovely to do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it would be lovely!&rdquo; said Daisy. But she made no movement to
+      accompany him; she only stood there laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think you had better find out what time it is,&rdquo; interposed her
+      mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is eleven o&rsquo;clock, madam,&rdquo; said a voice, with a foreign accent, out of
+      the neighboring darkness; and Winterbourne, turning, perceived the florid
+      personage who was in attendance upon the two ladies. He had apparently
+      just approached.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Eugenio,&rdquo; said Daisy, &ldquo;I am going out in a boat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eugenio bowed. &ldquo;At eleven o&rsquo;clock, mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going with Mr. Winterbourne&mdash;this very minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell her she can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller to the courier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you had better not go out in a boat, mademoiselle,&rdquo; Eugenio
+      declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne wished to Heaven this pretty girl were not so familiar with
+      her courier; but he said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s proper!&rdquo; Daisy exclaimed. &ldquo;Eugenio doesn&rsquo;t
+      think anything&rsquo;s proper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am at your service,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does mademoiselle propose to go alone?&rdquo; asked Eugenio of Mrs. Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; with this gentleman!&rdquo; answered Daisy&rsquo;s mamma.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The courier looked for a moment at Winterbourne&mdash;the latter thought
+      he was smiling&mdash;and then, solemnly, with a bow, &ldquo;As mademoiselle
+      pleases!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I hoped you would make a fuss!&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care to go now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I myself shall make a fuss if you don&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s all I want&mdash;a little fuss!&rdquo; And the young girl began to laugh
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Randolph has gone to bed!&rdquo; the courier announced frigidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Daisy; now we can go!&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy turned away from Winterbourne, looking at him, smiling and fanning
+      herself. &ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I hope you are disappointed, or
+      disgusted, or something!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her, taking the hand she offered him. &ldquo;I am puzzled,&rdquo; he
+      answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hope it won&rsquo;t keep you awake!&rdquo; she said very smartly; and, under
+      the escort of the privileged Eugenio, the two ladies passed toward the
+      house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne stood looking after them; he was indeed puzzled. He lingered
+      beside the lake for a quarter of an hour, turning over the mystery of the
+      young girl&rsquo;s sudden familiarities and caprices. But the only very definite
+      conclusion he came to was that he should enjoy deucedly &ldquo;going off&rdquo; with
+      her somewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days afterward he went off with her to the Castle of Chillon. He
+      waited for her in the large hall of the hotel, where the couriers, the
+      servants, the foreign tourists, were lounging about and staring. It was
+      not the place he should have chosen, but she had appointed it. She came
+      tripping downstairs, buttoning her long gloves, squeezing her folded
+      parasol against her pretty figure, dressed in the perfection of a soberly
+      elegant traveling costume. Winterbourne was a man of imagination and, as
+      our ancestors used to say, sensibility; as he looked at her dress and, on
+      the great staircase, her little rapid, confiding step, he felt as if there
+      were something romantic going forward. He could have believed he was going
+      to elope with her. He passed out with her among all the idle people that
+      were assembled there; they were all looking at her very hard; she had
+      begun to chatter as soon as she joined him. Winterbourne&rsquo;s preference had
+      been that they should be conveyed to Chillon in a carriage; but she
+      expressed a lively wish to go in the little steamer; she declared that she
+      had a passion for steamboats. There was always such a lovely breeze upon
+      the water, and you saw such lots of people. The sail was not long, but
+      Winterbourne&rsquo;s companion found time to say a great many things. To the
+      young man himself their little excursion was so much of an escapade&mdash;an
+      adventure&mdash;that, even allowing for her habitual sense of freedom, he
+      had some expectation of seeing her regard it in the same way. But it must
+      be confessed that, in this particular, he was disappointed. Daisy Miller
+      was extremely animated, she was in charming spirits; but she was
+      apparently not at all excited; she was not fluttered; she avoided neither
+      his eyes nor those of anyone else; she blushed neither when she looked at
+      him nor when she felt that people were looking at her. People continued to
+      look at her a great deal, and Winterbourne took much satisfaction in his
+      pretty companion&rsquo;s distinguished air. He had been a little afraid that she
+      would talk loud, laugh overmuch, and even, perhaps, desire to move about
+      the boat a good deal. But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling, with
+      his eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place, she
+      delivered herself of a great number of original reflections. It was the
+      most charming garrulity he had ever heard. He had assented to the idea
+      that she was &ldquo;common&rdquo;; but was she so, after all, or was he simply getting
+      used to her commonness? Her conversation was chiefly of what
+      metaphysicians term the objective cast, but every now and then it took a
+      subjective turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What on EARTH are you so grave about?&rdquo; she suddenly demanded, fixing her
+      agreeable eyes upon Winterbourne&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I grave?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look as if you were taking me to a funeral. If that&rsquo;s a grin, your
+      ears are very near together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should you like me to dance a hornpipe on the deck?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do, and I&rsquo;ll carry round your hat. It will pay the expenses of our
+      journey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never was better pleased in my life,&rdquo; murmured Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh. &ldquo;I like to
+      make you say those things! You&rsquo;re a queer mixture!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the castle, after they had landed, the subjective element decidedly
+      prevailed. Daisy tripped about the vaulted chambers, rustled her skirts in
+      the corkscrew staircases, flirted back with a pretty little cry and a
+      shudder from the edge of the oubliettes, and turned a singularly
+      well-shaped ear to everything that Winterbourne told her about the place.
+      But he saw that she cared very little for feudal antiquities and that the
+      dusky traditions of Chillon made but a slight impression upon her. They
+      had the good fortune to have been able to walk about without other
+      companionship than that of the custodian; and Winterbourne arranged with
+      this functionary that they should not be hurried&mdash;that they should
+      linger and pause wherever they chose. The custodian interpreted the
+      bargain generously&mdash;Winterbourne, on his side, had been generous&mdash;and
+      ended by leaving them quite to themselves. Miss Miller&rsquo;s observations were
+      not remarkable for logical consistency; for anything she wanted to say she
+      was sure to find a pretext. She found a great many pretexts in the rugged
+      embrasures of Chillon for asking Winterbourne sudden questions about
+      himself&mdash;his family, his previous history, his tastes, his habits,
+      his intentions&mdash;and for supplying information upon corresponding
+      points in her own personality. Of her own tastes, habits, and intentions
+      Miss Miller was prepared to give the most definite, and indeed the most
+      favorable account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hope you know enough!&rdquo; she said to her companion, after he had
+      told her the history of the unhappy Bonivard. &ldquo;I never saw a man that knew
+      so much!&rdquo; The history of Bonivard had evidently, as they say, gone into
+      one ear and out of the other. But Daisy went on to say that she wished
+      Winterbourne would travel with them and &ldquo;go round&rdquo; with them; they might
+      know something, in that case. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want to come and teach Randolph?&rdquo;
+       she asked. Winterbourne said that nothing could possibly please him so
+      much, but that he had unfortunately other occupations. &ldquo;Other occupations?
+      I don&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo; said Miss Daisy. &ldquo;What do you mean? You are not in
+      business.&rdquo; The young man admitted that he was not in business; but he had
+      engagements which, even within a day or two, would force him to go back to
+      Geneva. &ldquo;Oh, bother!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe it!&rdquo; and she began to
+      talk about something else. But a few moments later, when he was pointing
+      out to her the pretty design of an antique fireplace, she broke out
+      irrelevantly, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean to say you are going back to Geneva?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a melancholy fact that I shall have to return to Geneva tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Winterbourne,&rdquo; said Daisy, &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re horrid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t say such dreadful things!&rdquo; said Winterbourne&mdash;&ldquo;just at the
+      last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The last!&rdquo; cried the young girl; &ldquo;I call it the first. I have half a mind
+      to leave you here and go straight back to the hotel alone.&rdquo; And for the
+      next ten minutes she did nothing but call him horrid. Poor Winterbourne
+      was fairly bewildered; no young lady had as yet done him the honor to be
+      so agitated by the announcement of his movements. His companion, after
+      this, ceased to pay any attention to the curiosities of Chillon or the
+      beauties of the lake; she opened fire upon the mysterious charmer in
+      Geneva whom she appeared to have instantly taken it for granted that he
+      was hurrying back to see. How did Miss Daisy Miller know that there was a
+      charmer in Geneva? Winterbourne, who denied the existence of such a
+      person, was quite unable to discover, and he was divided between amazement
+      at the rapidity of her induction and amusement at the frankness of her
+      persiflage. She seemed to him, in all this, an extraordinary mixture of
+      innocence and crudity. &ldquo;Does she never allow you more than three days at a
+      time?&rdquo; asked Daisy ironically. &ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t she give you a vacation in summer?
+      There&rsquo;s no one so hard worked but they can get leave to go off somewhere
+      at this season. I suppose, if you stay another day, she&rsquo;ll come after you
+      in the boat. Do wait over till Friday, and I will go down to the landing
+      to see her arrive!&rdquo; Winterbourne began to think he had been wrong to feel
+      disappointed in the temper in which the young lady had embarked. If he had
+      missed the personal accent, the personal accent was now making its
+      appearance. It sounded very distinctly, at last, in her telling him she
+      would stop &ldquo;teasing&rdquo; him if he would promise her solemnly to come down to
+      Rome in the winter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a difficult promise to make,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;My aunt has
+      taken an apartment in Rome for the winter and has already asked me to come
+      and see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want you to come for your aunt,&rdquo; said Daisy; &ldquo;I want you to come
+      for me.&rdquo; And this was the only allusion that the young man was ever to
+      hear her make to his invidious kinswoman. He declared that, at any rate,
+      he would certainly come. After this Daisy stopped teasing. Winterbourne
+      took a carriage, and they drove back to Vevey in the dusk; the young girl
+      was very quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening Winterbourne mentioned to Mrs. Costello that he had spent
+      the afternoon at Chillon with Miss Daisy Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Americans&mdash;of the courier?&rdquo; asked this lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, happily,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;the courier stayed at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went with you all alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Costello sniffed a little at her smelling bottle. &ldquo;And that,&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;is the young person whom you wanted me to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne, who had returned to Geneva the day after his excursion to
+      Chillon, went to Rome toward the end of January. His aunt had been
+      established there for several weeks, and he had received a couple of
+      letters from her. &ldquo;Those people you were so devoted to last summer at
+      Vevey have turned up here, courier and all,&rdquo; she wrote. &ldquo;They seem to have
+      made several acquaintances, but the courier continues to be the most
+      intime. The young lady, however, is also very intimate with some
+      third-rate Italians, with whom she rackets about in a way that makes much
+      talk. Bring me that pretty novel of Cherbuliez&rsquo;s&mdash;Paule Mere&mdash;and
+      don&rsquo;t come later than the 23rd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the natural course of events, Winterbourne, on arriving in Rome, would
+      presently have ascertained Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s address at the American banker&rsquo;s
+      and have gone to pay his compliments to Miss Daisy. &ldquo;After what happened
+      at Vevey, I think I may certainly call upon them,&rdquo; he said to Mrs.
+      Costello.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If, after what happens&mdash;at Vevey and everywhere&mdash;you desire to
+      keep up the acquaintance, you are very welcome. Of course a man may know
+      everyone. Men are welcome to the privilege!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray what is it that happens&mdash;here, for instance?&rdquo; Winterbourne
+      demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The girl goes about alone with her foreigners. As to what happens
+      further, you must apply elsewhere for information. She has picked up half
+      a dozen of the regular Roman fortune hunters, and she takes them about to
+      people&rsquo;s houses. When she comes to a party she brings with her a gentleman
+      with a good deal of manner and a wonderful mustache.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where is the mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the least idea. They are very dreadful people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne meditated a moment. &ldquo;They are very ignorant&mdash;very
+      innocent only. Depend upon it they are not bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are hopelessly vulgar,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello. &ldquo;Whether or no being
+      hopelessly vulgar is being &lsquo;bad&rsquo; is a question for the metaphysicians.
+      They are bad enough to dislike, at any rate; and for this short life that
+      is quite enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The news that Daisy Miller was surrounded by half a dozen wonderful
+      mustaches checked Winterbourne&rsquo;s impulse to go straightway to see her. He
+      had, perhaps, not definitely flattered himself that he had made an
+      ineffaceable impression upon her heart, but he was annoyed at hearing of a
+      state of affairs so little in harmony with an image that had lately
+      flitted in and out of his own meditations; the image of a very pretty girl
+      looking out of an old Roman window and asking herself urgently when Mr.
+      Winterbourne would arrive. If, however, he determined to wait a little
+      before reminding Miss Miller of his claims to her consideration, he went
+      very soon to call upon two or three other friends. One of these friends
+      was an American lady who had spent several winters at Geneva, where she
+      had placed her children at school. She was a very accomplished woman, and
+      she lived in the Via Gregoriana. Winterbourne found her in a little
+      crimson drawing room on a third floor; the room was filled with southern
+      sunshine. He had not been there ten minutes when the servant came in,
+      announcing &ldquo;Madame Mila!&rdquo; This announcement was presently followed by the
+      entrance of little Randolph Miller, who stopped in the middle of the room
+      and stood staring at Winterbourne. An instant later his pretty sister
+      crossed the threshold; and then, after a considerable interval, Mrs.
+      Miller slowly advanced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you!&rdquo; said Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you know a great many things,&rdquo; exclaimed Winterbourne, taking
+      him by the hand. &ldquo;How is your education coming on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy was exchanging greetings very prettily with her hostess, but when
+      she heard Winterbourne&rsquo;s voice she quickly turned her head. &ldquo;Well, I
+      declare!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you I should come, you know,&rdquo; Winterbourne rejoined, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I didn&rsquo;t believe it,&rdquo; said Miss Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am much obliged to you,&rdquo; laughed the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might have come to see me!&rdquo; said Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I arrived only yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe that!&rdquo; the young girl declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne turned with a protesting smile to her mother, but this lady
+      evaded his glance, and, seating herself, fixed her eyes upon her son.
+      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got a bigger place than this,&rdquo; said Randolph. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all gold on the
+      walls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Miller turned uneasily in her chair. &ldquo;I told you if I were to bring
+      you, you would say something!&rdquo; she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told YOU!&rdquo; Randolph exclaimed. &ldquo;I tell YOU, sir!&rdquo; he added jocosely,
+      giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee. &ldquo;It IS bigger, too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess;
+      Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother. &ldquo;I
+      hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him&mdash;at his chin. &ldquo;Not very well,
+      sir,&rdquo; she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s got the dyspepsia,&rdquo; said Randolph. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got it too. Father&rsquo;s got
+      it. I&rsquo;ve got it most!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller, seemed to relieve
+      her. &ldquo;I suffer from the liver,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s this climate; it&rsquo;s
+      less bracing than Schenectady, especially in the winter season. I don&rsquo;t
+      know whether you know we reside at Schenectady. I was saying to Daisy that
+      I certainly hadn&rsquo;t found any one like Dr. Davis, and I didn&rsquo;t believe I
+      should. Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they think everything of him.
+      He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing he wouldn&rsquo;t do for me. He
+      said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia, but he was bound to cure it.
+      I&rsquo;m sure there was nothing he wouldn&rsquo;t try. He was just going to try
+      something new when we came off. Mr. Miller wanted Daisy to see Europe for
+      herself. But I wrote to Mr. Miller that it seems as if I couldn&rsquo;t get on
+      without Dr. Davis. At Schenectady he stands at the very top; and there&rsquo;s a
+      great deal of sickness there, too. It affects my sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis&rsquo;s
+      patient, during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own companion.
+      The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with Rome. &ldquo;Well, I
+      must say I am disappointed,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;We had heard so much about it;
+      I suppose we had heard too much. But we couldn&rsquo;t help that. We had been
+      led to expect something different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it,&rdquo; said
+      Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate it worse and worse every day!&rdquo; cried Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are like the infant Hannibal,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I ain&rsquo;t!&rdquo; Randolph declared at a venture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not much like an infant,&rdquo; said his mother. &ldquo;But we have seen
+      places,&rdquo; she resumed, &ldquo;that I should put a long way before Rome.&rdquo; And in
+      reply to Winterbourne&rsquo;s interrogation, &ldquo;There&rsquo;s Zurich,&rdquo; she concluded, &ldquo;I
+      think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn&rsquo;t heard half so much about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best place we&rsquo;ve seen is the City of Richmond!&rdquo; said Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He means the ship,&rdquo; his mother explained. &ldquo;We crossed in that ship.
+      Randolph had a good time on the City of Richmond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the best place I&rsquo;ve seen,&rdquo; the child repeated. &ldquo;Only it was turned
+      the wrong way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ve got to turn the right way some time,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller with a
+      little laugh. Winterbourne expressed the hope that her daughter at least
+      found some gratification in Rome, and she declared that Daisy was quite
+      carried away. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s on account of the society&mdash;the society&rsquo;s
+      splendid. She goes round everywhere; she has made a great number of
+      acquaintances. Of course she goes round more than I do. I must say they
+      have been very sociable; they have taken her right in. And then she knows
+      a great many gentlemen. Oh, she thinks there&rsquo;s nothing like Rome. Of
+      course, it&rsquo;s a great deal pleasanter for a young lady if she knows plenty
+      of gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time Daisy had turned her attention again to Winterbourne. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+      been telling Mrs. Walker how mean you were!&rdquo; the young girl announced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is the evidence you have offered?&rdquo; asked Winterbourne, rather
+      annoyed at Miss Miller&rsquo;s want of appreciation of the zeal of an admirer
+      who on his way down to Rome had stopped neither at Bologna nor at
+      Florence, simply because of a certain sentimental impatience. He
+      remembered that a cynical compatriot had once told him that American women&mdash;the
+      pretty ones, and this gave a largeness to the axiom&mdash;were at once the
+      most exacting in the world and the least endowed with a sense of
+      indebtedness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you were awfully mean at Vevey,&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t do
+      anything. You wouldn&rsquo;t stay there when I asked you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dearest young lady,&rdquo; cried Winterbourne, with eloquence, &ldquo;have I come
+      all the way to Rome to encounter your reproaches?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just hear him say that!&rdquo; said Daisy to her hostess, giving a twist to a
+      bow on this lady&rsquo;s dress. &ldquo;Did you ever hear anything so quaint?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So quaint, my dear?&rdquo; murmured Mrs. Walker in the tone of a partisan of
+      Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Daisy, fingering Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s ribbons. &ldquo;Mrs.
+      Walker, I want to tell you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother-r,&rdquo; interposed Randolph, with his rough ends to his words, &ldquo;I tell
+      you you&rsquo;ve got to go. Eugenio&rsquo;ll raise&mdash;something!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not afraid of Eugenio,&rdquo; said Daisy with a toss of her head. &ldquo;Look
+      here, Mrs. Walker,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;you know I&rsquo;m coming to your party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am delighted to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a lovely dress!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sure of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I want to ask a favor&mdash;permission to bring a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be happy to see any of your friends,&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker, turning
+      with a smile to Mrs. Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they are not my friends,&rdquo; answered Daisy&rsquo;s mamma, smiling shyly in
+      her own fashion. &ldquo;I never spoke to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an intimate friend of mine&mdash;Mr. Giovanelli,&rdquo; said Daisy without
+      a tremor in her clear little voice or a shadow on her brilliant little
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Walker was silent a moment; she gave a rapid glance at Winterbourne.
+      &ldquo;I shall be glad to see Mr. Giovanelli,&rdquo; she then said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s an Italian,&rdquo; Daisy pursued with the prettiest serenity. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a
+      great friend of mine; he&rsquo;s the handsomest man in the world&mdash;except
+      Mr. Winterbourne! He knows plenty of Italians, but he wants to know some
+      Americans. He thinks ever so much of Americans. He&rsquo;s tremendously clever.
+      He&rsquo;s perfectly lovely!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was settled that this brilliant personage should be brought to Mrs.
+      Walker&rsquo;s party, and then Mrs. Miller prepared to take her leave. &ldquo;I guess
+      we&rsquo;ll go back to the hotel,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may go back to the hotel, Mother, but I&rsquo;m going to take a walk,&rdquo; said
+      Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s going to walk with Mr. Giovanelli,&rdquo; Randolph proclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to the Pincio,&rdquo; said Daisy, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alone, my dear&mdash;at this hour?&rdquo; Mrs. Walker asked. The afternoon was
+      drawing to a close&mdash;it was the hour for the throng of carriages and
+      of contemplative pedestrians. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s safe, my dear,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Walker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither do I,&rdquo; subjoined Mrs. Miller. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll get the fever, as sure as
+      you live. Remember what Dr. Davis told you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give her some medicine before she goes,&rdquo; said Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty teeth,
+      bent over and kissed her hostess. &ldquo;Mrs. Walker, you are too perfect,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going alone; I am going to meet a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your friend won&rsquo;t keep you from getting the fever,&rdquo; Mrs. Miller observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it Mr. Giovanelli?&rdquo; asked the hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was watching the young girl; at this question his attention
+      quickened. She stood there, smiling and smoothing her bonnet ribbons; she
+      glanced at Winterbourne. Then, while she glanced and smiled, she answered,
+      without a shade of hesitation, &ldquo;Mr. Giovanelli&mdash;the beautiful
+      Giovanelli.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear young friend,&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker, taking her hand pleadingly,
+      &ldquo;don&rsquo;t walk off to the Pincio at this hour to meet a beautiful Italian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he speaks English,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious me!&rdquo; Daisy exclaimed, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t to do anything improper. There&rsquo;s
+      an easy way to settle it.&rdquo; She continued to glance at Winterbourne. &ldquo;The
+      Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr. Winterbourne were as
+      polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne&rsquo;s politeness hastened to affirm itself, and the young girl
+      gave him gracious leave to accompany her. They passed downstairs before
+      her mother, and at the door Winterbourne perceived Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s carriage
+      drawn up, with the ornamental courier whose acquaintance he had made at
+      Vevey seated within. &ldquo;Goodbye, Eugenio!&rdquo; cried Daisy; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to take a
+      walk.&rdquo; The distance from the Via Gregoriana to the beautiful garden at the
+      other end of the Pincian Hill is, in fact, rapidly traversed. As the day
+      was splendid, however, and the concourse of vehicles, walkers, and
+      loungers numerous, the young Americans found their progress much delayed.
+      This fact was highly agreeable to Winterbourne, in spite of his
+      consciousness of his singular situation. The slow-moving, idly gazing
+      Roman crowd bestowed much attention upon the extremely pretty young
+      foreign lady who was passing through it upon his arm; and he wondered what
+      on earth had been in Daisy&rsquo;s mind when she proposed to expose herself,
+      unattended, to its appreciation. His own mission, to her sense,
+      apparently, was to consign her to the hands of Mr. Giovanelli; but
+      Winterbourne, at once annoyed and gratified, resolved that he would do no
+      such thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why haven&rsquo;t you been to see me?&rdquo; asked Daisy. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t get out of
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had the honor of telling you that I have only just stepped out of
+      the train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must have stayed in the train a good while after it stopped!&rdquo; cried
+      the young girl with her little laugh. &ldquo;I suppose you were asleep. You have
+      had time to go to see Mrs. Walker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew Mrs. Walker&mdash;&rdquo; Winterbourne began to explain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know where you knew her. You knew her at Geneva. She told me so. Well,
+      you knew me at Vevey. That&rsquo;s just as good. So you ought to have come.&rdquo; She
+      asked him no other question than this; she began to prattle about her own
+      affairs. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got splendid rooms at the hotel; Eugenio says they&rsquo;re the
+      best rooms in Rome. We are going to stay all winter, if we don&rsquo;t die of
+      the fever; and I guess we&rsquo;ll stay then. It&rsquo;s a great deal nicer than I
+      thought; I thought it would be fearfully quiet; I was sure it would be
+      awfully poky. I was sure we should be going round all the time with one of
+      those dreadful old men that explain about the pictures and things. But we
+      only had about a week of that, and now I&rsquo;m enjoying myself. I know ever so
+      many people, and they are all so charming. The society&rsquo;s extremely select.
+      There are all kinds&mdash;English, and Germans, and Italians. I think I
+      like the English best. I like their style of conversation. But there are
+      some lovely Americans. I never saw anything so hospitable. There&rsquo;s
+      something or other every day. There&rsquo;s not much dancing; but I must say I
+      never thought dancing was everything. I was always fond of conversation. I
+      guess I shall have plenty at Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s, her rooms are so small.&rdquo; When
+      they had passed the gate of the Pincian Gardens, Miss Miller began to
+      wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might be. &ldquo;We had better go straight to that
+      place in front,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;where you look at the view.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I certainly shall not help you to find him,&rdquo; Winterbourne declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall find him without you,&rdquo; cried Miss Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You certainly won&rsquo;t leave me!&rdquo; cried Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She burst into her little laugh. &ldquo;Are you afraid you&rsquo;ll get lost&mdash;or
+      run over? But there&rsquo;s Giovanelli, leaning against that tree. He&rsquo;s staring
+      at the women in the carriages: did you ever see anything so cool?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne perceived at some distance a little man standing with folded
+      arms nursing his cane. He had a handsome face, an artfully poised hat, a
+      glass in one eye, and a nosegay in his buttonhole. Winterbourne looked at
+      him a moment and then said, &ldquo;Do you mean to speak to that man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I mean to speak to him? Why, you don&rsquo;t suppose I mean to communicate
+      by signs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray understand, then,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;that I intend to remain with
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy stopped and looked at him, without a sign of troubled consciousness
+      in her face, with nothing but the presence of her charming eyes and her
+      happy dimples. &ldquo;Well, she&rsquo;s a cool one!&rdquo; thought the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the way you say that,&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s too imperious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon if I say it wrong. The main point is to give you an
+      idea of my meaning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl looked at him more gravely, but with eyes that were
+      prettier than ever. &ldquo;I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me, or
+      to interfere with anything I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you have made a mistake,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;You should
+      sometimes listen to a gentleman&mdash;the right one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy began to laugh again. &ldquo;I do nothing but listen to gentlemen!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed. &ldquo;Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two
+      friends, and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity. He
+      bowed to Winterbourne as well as to the latter&rsquo;s companion; he had a
+      brilliant smile, an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a
+      bad-looking fellow. But he nevertheless said to Daisy, &ldquo;No, he&rsquo;s not the
+      right one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions; she
+      mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other. She strolled
+      alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli, who spoke
+      English very cleverly&mdash;Winterbourne afterward learned that he had
+      practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses&mdash;addressed
+      her a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely urbane, and the
+      young American, who said nothing, reflected upon that profundity of
+      Italian cleverness which enables people to appear more gracious in
+      proportion as they are more acutely disappointed. Giovanelli, of course,
+      had counted upon something more intimate; he had not bargained for a party
+      of three. But he kept his temper in a manner which suggested
+      far-stretching intentions. Winterbourne flattered himself that he had
+      taken his measure. &ldquo;He is not a gentleman,&rdquo; said the young American; &ldquo;he
+      is only a clever imitation of one. He is a music master, or a
+      penny-a-liner, or a third-rate artist. D__n his good looks!&rdquo; Mr.
+      Giovanelli had certainly a very pretty face; but Winterbourne felt a
+      superior indignation at his own lovely fellow countrywoman&rsquo;s not knowing
+      the difference between a spurious gentleman and a real one. Giovanelli
+      chattered and jested and made himself wonderfully agreeable. It was true
+      that, if he was an imitation, the imitation was brilliant. &ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo;
+       Winterbourne said to himself, &ldquo;a nice girl ought to know!&rdquo; And then he
+      came back to the question whether this was, in fact, a nice girl. Would a
+      nice girl, even allowing for her being a little American flirt, make a
+      rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner? The rendezvous in this
+      case, indeed, had been in broad daylight and in the most crowded corner of
+      Rome, but was it not impossible to regard the choice of these
+      circumstances as a proof of extreme cynicism? Singular though it may seem,
+      Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl, in joining her amoroso, should
+      not appear more impatient of his own company, and he was vexed because of
+      his inclination. It was impossible to regard her as a perfectly
+      well-conducted young lady; she was wanting in a certain indispensable
+      delicacy. It would therefore simplify matters greatly to be able to treat
+      her as the object of one of those sentiments which are called by romancers
+      &ldquo;lawless passions.&rdquo; That she should seem to wish to get rid of him would
+      help him to think more lightly of her, and to be able to think more
+      lightly of her would make her much less perplexing. But Daisy, on this
+      occasion, continued to present herself as an inscrutable combination of
+      audacity and innocence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had been walking some quarter of an hour, attended by her two
+      cavaliers, and responding in a tone of very childish gaiety, as it seemed
+      to Winterbourne, to the pretty speeches of Mr. Giovanelli, when a carriage
+      that had detached itself from the revolving train drew up beside the path.
+      At the same moment Winterbourne perceived that his friend Mrs. Walker&mdash;the
+      lady whose house he had lately left&mdash;was seated in the vehicle and
+      was beckoning to him. Leaving Miss Miller&rsquo;s side, he hastened to obey her
+      summons. Mrs. Walker was flushed; she wore an excited air. &ldquo;It is really
+      too dreadful,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That girl must not do this sort of thing. She
+      must not walk here with you two men. Fifty people have noticed her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne raised his eyebrows. &ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s a pity to make too much
+      fuss about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity to let the girl ruin herself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is very innocent,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s very crazy!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Walker. &ldquo;Did you ever see anything so
+      imbecile as her mother? After you had all left me just now, I could not
+      sit still for thinking of it. It seemed too pitiful, not even to attempt
+      to save her. I ordered the carriage and put on my bonnet, and came here as
+      quickly as possible. Thank Heaven I have found you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you propose to do with us?&rdquo; asked Winterbourne, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To ask her to get in, to drive her about here for half an hour, so that
+      the world may see she is not running absolutely wild, and then to take her
+      safely home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s a very happy thought,&rdquo; said Winterbourne; &ldquo;but you can
+      try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Walker tried. The young man went in pursuit of Miss Miller, who had
+      simply nodded and smiled at his interlocutor in the carriage and had gone
+      her way with her companion. Daisy, on learning that Mrs. Walker wished to
+      speak to her, retraced her steps with a perfect good grace and with Mr.
+      Giovanelli at her side. She declared that she was delighted to have a
+      chance to present this gentleman to Mrs. Walker. She immediately achieved
+      the introduction, and declared that she had never in her life seen
+      anything so lovely as Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s carriage rug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you admire it,&rdquo; said this lady, smiling sweetly. &ldquo;Will you get
+      in and let me put it over you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, thank you,&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;I shall admire it much more as I see you
+      driving round with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do get in and drive with me!&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be charming, but it&rsquo;s so enchanting just as I am!&rdquo; and Daisy
+      gave a brilliant glance at the gentlemen on either side of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be enchanting, dear child, but it is not the custom here,&rdquo; urged
+      Mrs. Walker, leaning forward in her victoria, with her hands devoutly
+      clasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it ought to be, then!&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;If I didn&rsquo;t walk I should
+      expire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should walk with your mother, dear,&rdquo; cried the lady from Geneva,
+      losing patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With my mother dear!&rdquo; exclaimed the young girl. Winterbourne saw that she
+      scented interference. &ldquo;My mother never walked ten steps in her life. And
+      then, you know,&rdquo; she added with a laugh, &ldquo;I am more than five years old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are old enough to be more reasonable. You are old enough, dear Miss
+      Miller, to be talked about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy looked at Mrs. Walker, smiling intensely. &ldquo;Talked about? What do you
+      mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come into my carriage, and I will tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy turned her quickened glance again from one of the gentlemen beside
+      her to the other. Mr. Giovanelli was bowing to and fro, rubbing down his
+      gloves and laughing very agreeably; Winterbourne thought it a most
+      unpleasant scene. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I want to know what you mean,&rdquo; said Daisy
+      presently. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I should like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne wished that Mrs. Walker would tuck in her carriage rug and
+      drive away, but this lady did not enjoy being defied, as she afterward
+      told him. &ldquo;Should you prefer being thought a very reckless girl?&rdquo; she
+      demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious!&rdquo; exclaimed Daisy. She looked again at Mr. Giovanelli, then she
+      turned to Winterbourne. There was a little pink flush in her cheek; she
+      was tremendously pretty. &ldquo;Does Mr. Winterbourne think,&rdquo; she asked slowly,
+      smiling, throwing back her head, and glancing at him from head to foot,
+      &ldquo;that, to save my reputation, I ought to get into the carriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne colored; for an instant he hesitated greatly. It seemed so
+      strange to hear her speak that way of her &ldquo;reputation.&rdquo; But he himself, in
+      fact, must speak in accordance with gallantry. The finest gallantry, here,
+      was simply to tell her the truth; and the truth, for Winterbourne, as the
+      few indications I have been able to give have made him known to the
+      reader, was that Daisy Miller should take Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s advice. He looked
+      at her exquisite prettiness, and then he said, very gently, &ldquo;I think you
+      should get into the carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy gave a violent laugh. &ldquo;I never heard anything so stiff! If this is
+      improper, Mrs. Walker,&rdquo; she pursued, &ldquo;then I am all improper, and you must
+      give me up. Goodbye; I hope you&rsquo;ll have a lovely ride!&rdquo; and, with Mr.
+      Giovanelli, who made a triumphantly obsequious salute, she turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Walker sat looking after her, and there were tears in Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s
+      eyes. &ldquo;Get in here, sir,&rdquo; she said to Winterbourne, indicating the place
+      beside her. The young man answered that he felt bound to accompany Miss
+      Miller, whereupon Mrs. Walker declared that if he refused her this favor
+      she would never speak to him again. She was evidently in earnest.
+      Winterbourne overtook Daisy and her companion, and, offering the young
+      girl his hand, told her that Mrs. Walker had made an imperious claim upon
+      his society. He expected that in answer she would say something rather
+      free, something to commit herself still further to that &ldquo;recklessness&rdquo;
+       from which Mrs. Walker had so charitably endeavored to dissuade her. But
+      she only shook his hand, hardly looking at him, while Mr. Giovanelli bade
+      him farewell with a too emphatic flourish of the hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was not in the best possible humor as he took his seat in
+      Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s victoria. &ldquo;That was not clever of you,&rdquo; he said candidly,
+      while the vehicle mingled again with the throng of carriages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In such a case,&rdquo; his companion answered, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wish to be clever; I
+      wish to be EARNEST!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, your earnestness has only offended her and put her off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has happened very well,&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker. &ldquo;If she is so perfectly
+      determined to compromise herself, the sooner one knows it the better; one
+      can act accordingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suspect she meant no harm,&rdquo; Winterbourne rejoined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I thought a month ago. But she has been going too far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has she been doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything that is not done here. Flirting with any man she could pick
+      up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening
+      with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o&rsquo;clock at night. Her
+      mother goes away when visitors come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But her brother,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, laughing, &ldquo;sits up till midnight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be edified by what he sees. I&rsquo;m told that at their hotel everyone
+      is talking about her, and that a smile goes round among all the servants
+      when a gentleman comes and asks for Miss Miller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The servants be hanged!&rdquo; said Winterbourne angrily. &ldquo;The poor girl&rsquo;s only
+      fault,&rdquo; he presently added, &ldquo;is that she is very uncultivated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is naturally indelicate,&rdquo; Mrs. Walker declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take that example this morning. How long had you known her at Vevey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A couple of days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy, then, her making it a personal matter that you should have left
+      the place!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was silent for some moments; then he said, &ldquo;I suspect, Mrs.
+      Walker, that you and I have lived too long at Geneva!&rdquo; And he added a
+      request that she should inform him with what particular design she had
+      made him enter her carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wished to beg you to cease your relations with Miss Miller&mdash;not to
+      flirt with her&mdash;to give her no further opportunity to expose herself&mdash;to
+      let her alone, in short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I can&rsquo;t do that,&rdquo; said Winterbourne. &ldquo;I like her extremely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the more reason that you shouldn&rsquo;t help her to make a scandal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There shall be nothing scandalous in my attentions to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There certainly will be in the way she takes them. But I have said what I
+      had on my conscience,&rdquo; Mrs. Walker pursued. &ldquo;If you wish to rejoin the
+      young lady I will put you down. Here, by the way, you have a chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage was traversing that part of the Pincian Garden that overhangs
+      the wall of Rome and overlooks the beautiful Villa Borghese. It is
+      bordered by a large parapet, near which there are several seats. One of
+      the seats at a distance was occupied by a gentleman and a lady, toward
+      whom Mrs. Walker gave a toss of her head. At the same moment these persons
+      rose and walked toward the parapet. Winterbourne had asked the coachman to
+      stop; he now descended from the carriage. His companion looked at him a
+      moment in silence; then, while he raised his hat, she drove majestically
+      away. Winterbourne stood there; he had turned his eyes toward Daisy and
+      her cavalier. They evidently saw no one; they were too deeply occupied
+      with each other. When they reached the low garden wall, they stood a
+      moment looking off at the great flat-topped pine clusters of the Villa
+      Borghese; then Giovanelli seated himself, familiarly, upon the broad ledge
+      of the wall. The western sun in the opposite sky sent out a brilliant
+      shaft through a couple of cloud bars, whereupon Daisy&rsquo;s companion took her
+      parasol out of her hands and opened it. She came a little nearer, and he
+      held the parasol over her; then, still holding it, he let it rest upon her
+      shoulder, so that both of their heads were hidden from Winterbourne. This
+      young man lingered a moment, then he began to walk. But he walked&mdash;not
+      toward the couple with the parasol; toward the residence of his aunt, Mrs.
+      Costello.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He flattered himself on the following day that there was no smiling among
+      the servants when he, at least, asked for Mrs. Miller at her hotel. This
+      lady and her daughter, however, were not at home; and on the next day
+      after, repeating his visit, Winterbourne again had the misfortune not to
+      find them. Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s party took place on the evening of the third day,
+      and, in spite of the frigidity of his last interview with the hostess,
+      Winterbourne was among the guests. Mrs. Walker was one of those American
+      ladies who, while residing abroad, make a point, in their own phrase, of
+      studying European society, and she had on this occasion collected several
+      specimens of her diversely born fellow mortals to serve, as it were, as
+      textbooks. When Winterbourne arrived, Daisy Miller was not there, but in a
+      few moments he saw her mother come in alone, very shyly and ruefully. Mrs.
+      Miller&rsquo;s hair above her exposed-looking temples was more frizzled than
+      ever. As she approached Mrs. Walker, Winterbourne also drew near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, I&rsquo;ve come all alone,&rdquo; said poor Mrs. Miller. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so frightened;
+      I don&rsquo;t know what to do. It&rsquo;s the first time I&rsquo;ve ever been to a party
+      alone, especially in this country. I wanted to bring Randolph or Eugenio,
+      or someone, but Daisy just pushed me off by myself. I ain&rsquo;t used to going
+      round alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And does not your daughter intend to favor us with her society?&rdquo; demanded
+      Mrs. Walker impressively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Daisy&rsquo;s all dressed,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller with that accent of the
+      dispassionate, if not of the philosophic, historian with which she always
+      recorded the current incidents of her daughter&rsquo;s career. &ldquo;She got dressed
+      on purpose before dinner. But she&rsquo;s got a friend of hers there; that
+      gentleman&mdash;the Italian&mdash;that she wanted to bring. They&rsquo;ve got
+      going at the piano; it seems as if they couldn&rsquo;t leave off. Mr. Giovanelli
+      sings splendidly. But I guess they&rsquo;ll come before very long,&rdquo; concluded
+      Mrs. Miller hopefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry she should come in that way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
+      dinner if she was going to wait three hours,&rdquo; responded Daisy&rsquo;s mamma. &ldquo;I
+      didn&rsquo;t see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit round
+      with Mr. Giovanelli.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is most horrible!&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker, turning away and addressing
+      herself to Winterbourne. &ldquo;Elle s&rsquo;affiche. It&rsquo;s her revenge for my having
+      ventured to remonstrate with her. When she comes, I shall not speak to
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy came after eleven o&rsquo;clock; but she was not, on such an occasion, a
+      young lady to wait to be spoken to. She rustled forward in radiant
+      loveliness, smiling and chattering, carrying a large bouquet, and attended
+      by Mr. Giovanelli. Everyone stopped talking and turned and looked at her.
+      She came straight to Mrs. Walker. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you thought I never was
+      coming, so I sent mother off to tell you. I wanted to make Mr. Giovanelli
+      practice some things before he came; you know he sings beautifully, and I
+      want you to ask him to sing. This is Mr. Giovanelli; you know I introduced
+      him to you; he&rsquo;s got the most lovely voice, and he knows the most charming
+      set of songs. I made him go over them this evening on purpose; we had the
+      greatest time at the hotel.&rdquo; Of all this Daisy delivered herself with the
+      sweetest, brightest audibleness, looking now at her hostess and now round
+      the room, while she gave a series of little pats, round her shoulders, to
+      the edges of her dress. &ldquo;Is there anyone I know?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think every one knows you!&rdquo; said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she gave a
+      very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore himself
+      gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth; he curled his
+      mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all the proper functions of a
+      handsome Italian at an evening party. He sang very prettily half a dozen
+      songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward declared that she had been quite
+      unable to find out who asked him. It was apparently not Daisy who had
+      given him his orders. Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and though
+      she had publicly, as it were, professed a high admiration for his singing,
+      talked, not inaudibly, while it was going on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity these rooms are so small; we can&rsquo;t dance,&rdquo; she said to
+      Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sorry we can&rsquo;t dance,&rdquo; Winterbourne answered; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t dance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you don&rsquo;t dance; you&rsquo;re too stiff,&rdquo; said Miss Daisy. &ldquo;I hope
+      you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I didn&rsquo;t enjoy it; I preferred walking with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We paired off: that was much better,&rdquo; said Daisy. &ldquo;But did you ever hear
+      anything so cool as Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s wanting me to get into her carriage and
+      drop poor Mr. Giovanelli, and under the pretext that it was proper? People
+      have different ideas! It would have been most unkind; he had been talking
+      about that walk for ten days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He should not have talked about it at all,&rdquo; said Winterbourne; &ldquo;he would
+      never have proposed to a young lady of this country to walk about the
+      streets with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the streets?&rdquo; cried Daisy with her pretty stare. &ldquo;Where, then,
+      would he have proposed to her to walk? The Pincio is not the streets,
+      either; and I, thank goodness, am not a young lady of this country. The
+      young ladies of this country have a dreadfully poky time of it, so far as
+      I can learn; I don&rsquo;t see why I should change my habits for THEM.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid your habits are those of a flirt,&rdquo; said Winterbourne gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course they are,&rdquo; she cried, giving him her little smiling stare
+      again. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a fearful, frightful flirt! Did you ever hear of a nice girl
+      that was not? But I suppose you will tell me now that I am not a nice
+      girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very nice girl; but I wish you would flirt with me, and me
+      only,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! thank you&mdash;thank you very much; you are the last man I should
+      think of flirting with. As I have had the pleasure of informing you, you
+      are too stiff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say that too often,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy gave a delighted laugh. &ldquo;If I could have the sweet hope of making
+      you angry, I should say it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do that; when I am angry I&rsquo;m stiffer than ever. But if you won&rsquo;t
+      flirt with me, do cease, at least, to flirt with your friend at the piano;
+      they don&rsquo;t understand that sort of thing here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought they understood nothing else!&rdquo; exclaimed Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in young unmarried women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me much more proper in young unmarried women than in old
+      married ones,&rdquo; Daisy declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;when you deal with natives you must go by the
+      custom of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom; it doesn&rsquo;t
+      exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr. Giovanelli, and
+      without your mother&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious! poor Mother!&rdquo; interposed Daisy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Though you may be flirting, Mr. Giovanelli is not; he means something
+      else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t preaching, at any rate,&rdquo; said Daisy with vivacity. &ldquo;And if you
+      want very much to know, we are neither of us flirting; we are too good
+      friends for that: we are very intimate friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; rejoined Winterbourne, &ldquo;if you are in love with each other, it is
+      another affair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had allowed him up to this point to talk so frankly that he had no
+      expectation of shocking her by this ejaculation; but she immediately got
+      up, blushing visibly, and leaving him to exclaim mentally that little
+      American flirts were the queerest creatures in the world. &ldquo;Mr. Giovanelli,
+      at least,&rdquo; she said, giving her interlocutor a single glance, &ldquo;never says
+      such very disagreeable things to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne was bewildered; he stood, staring. Mr. Giovanelli had
+      finished singing. He left the piano and came over to Daisy. &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you
+      come into the other room and have some tea?&rdquo; he asked, bending before her
+      with his ornamental smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy turned to Winterbourne, beginning to smile again. He was still more
+      perplexed, for this inconsequent smile made nothing clear, though it
+      seemed to prove, indeed, that she had a sweetness and softness that
+      reverted instinctively to the pardon of offenses. &ldquo;It has never occurred
+      to Mr. Winterbourne to offer me any tea,&rdquo; she said with her little
+      tormenting manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have offered you advice,&rdquo; Winterbourne rejoined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I prefer weak tea!&rdquo; cried Daisy, and she went off with the brilliant
+      Giovanelli. She sat with him in the adjoining room, in the embrasure of
+      the window, for the rest of the evening. There was an interesting
+      performance at the piano, but neither of these young people gave heed to
+      it. When Daisy came to take leave of Mrs. Walker, this lady
+      conscientiously repaired the weakness of which she had been guilty at the
+      moment of the young girl&rsquo;s arrival. She turned her back straight upon Miss
+      Miller and left her to depart with what grace she might. Winterbourne was
+      standing near the door; he saw it all. Daisy turned very pale and looked
+      at her mother, but Mrs. Miller was humbly unconscious of any violation of
+      the usual social forms. She appeared, indeed, to have felt an incongruous
+      impulse to draw attention to her own striking observance of them. &ldquo;Good
+      night, Mrs. Walker,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve had a beautiful evening. You see, if
+      I let Daisy come to parties without me, I don&rsquo;t want her to go away
+      without me.&rdquo; Daisy turned away, looking with a pale, grave face at the
+      circle near the door; Winterbourne saw that, for the first moment, she was
+      too much shocked and puzzled even for indignation. He on his side was
+      greatly touched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was very cruel,&rdquo; he said to Mrs. Walker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She never enters my drawing room again!&rdquo; replied his hostess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since Winterbourne was not to meet her in Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s drawing room, he
+      went as often as possible to Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s hotel. The ladies were rarely
+      at home, but when he found them, the devoted Giovanelli was always
+      present. Very often the brilliant little Roman was in the drawing room
+      with Daisy alone, Mrs. Miller being apparently constantly of the opinion
+      that discretion is the better part of surveillance. Winterbourne noted, at
+      first with surprise, that Daisy on these occasions was never embarrassed
+      or annoyed by his own entrance; but he very presently began to feel that
+      she had no more surprises for him; the unexpected in her behavior was the
+      only thing to expect. She showed no displeasure at her tete-a-tete with
+      Giovanelli being interrupted; she could chatter as freshly and freely with
+      two gentlemen as with one; there was always, in her conversation, the same
+      odd mixture of audacity and puerility. Winterbourne remarked to himself
+      that if she was seriously interested in Giovanelli, it was very singular
+      that she should not take more trouble to preserve the sanctity of their
+      interviews; and he liked her the more for her innocent-looking
+      indifference and her apparently inexhaustible good humor. He could hardly
+      have said why, but she seemed to him a girl who would never be jealous. At
+      the risk of exciting a somewhat derisive smile on the reader&rsquo;s part, I may
+      affirm that with regard to the women who had hitherto interested him, it
+      very often seemed to Winterbourne among the possibilities that, given
+      certain contingencies, he should be afraid&mdash;literally afraid&mdash;of
+      these ladies; he had a pleasant sense that he should never be afraid of
+      Daisy Miller. It must be added that this sentiment was not altogether
+      flattering to Daisy; it was part of his conviction, or rather of his
+      apprehension, that she would prove a very light young person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she was evidently very much interested in Giovanelli. She looked at
+      him whenever he spoke; she was perpetually telling him to do this and to
+      do that; she was constantly &ldquo;chaffing&rdquo; and abusing him. She appeared
+      completely to have forgotten that Winterbourne had said anything to
+      displease her at Mrs. Walker&rsquo;s little party. One Sunday afternoon, having
+      gone to St. Peter&rsquo;s with his aunt, Winterbourne perceived Daisy strolling
+      about the great church in company with the inevitable Giovanelli.
+      Presently he pointed out the young girl and her cavalier to Mrs. Costello.
+      This lady looked at them a moment through her eyeglass, and then she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s what makes you so pensive in these days, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had not the least idea I was pensive,&rdquo; said the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very much preoccupied; you are thinking of something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is it,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;that you accuse me of thinking of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of that young lady&rsquo;s&mdash;Miss Baker&rsquo;s, Miss Chandler&rsquo;s&mdash;what&rsquo;s her
+      name?&mdash;Miss Miller&rsquo;s intrigue with that little barber&rsquo;s block.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you call it an intrigue,&rdquo; Winterbourne asked&mdash;&ldquo;an affair that
+      goes on with such peculiar publicity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s their folly,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s not their merit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; rejoined Winterbourne, with something of that pensiveness to which
+      his aunt had alluded. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe that there is anything to be called
+      an intrigue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard a dozen people speak of it; they say she is quite carried
+      away by him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are certainly very intimate,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Costello inspected the young couple again with her optical
+      instrument. &ldquo;He is very handsome. One easily sees how it is. She thinks
+      him the most elegant man in the world, the finest gentleman. She has never
+      seen anything like him; he is better, even, than the courier. It was the
+      courier probably who introduced him; and if he succeeds in marrying the
+      young lady, the courier will come in for a magnificent commission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe she thinks of marrying him,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;and I
+      don&rsquo;t believe he hopes to marry her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be very sure she thinks of nothing. She goes on from day to day,
+      from hour to hour, as they did in the Golden Age. I can imagine nothing
+      more vulgar. And at the same time,&rdquo; added Mrs. Costello, &ldquo;depend upon it
+      that she may tell you any moment that she is &lsquo;engaged.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that is more than Giovanelli expects,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Giovanelli?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The little Italian. I have asked questions about him and learned
+      something. He is apparently a perfectly respectable little man. I believe
+      he is, in a small way, a cavaliere avvocato. But he doesn&rsquo;t move in what
+      are called the first circles. I think it is really not absolutely
+      impossible that the courier introduced him. He is evidently immensely
+      charmed with Miss Miller. If she thinks him the finest gentleman in the
+      world, he, on his side, has never found himself in personal contact with
+      such splendor, such opulence, such expensiveness as this young lady&rsquo;s. And
+      then she must seem to him wonderfully pretty and interesting. I rather
+      doubt that he dreams of marrying her. That must appear to him too
+      impossible a piece of luck. He has nothing but his handsome face to offer,
+      and there is a substantial Mr. Miller in that mysterious land of dollars.
+      Giovanelli knows that he hasn&rsquo;t a title to offer. If he were only a count
+      or a marchese! He must wonder at his luck, at the way they have taken him
+      up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He accounts for it by his handsome face and thinks Miss Miller a young
+      lady qui se passe ses fantaisies!&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very true,&rdquo; Winterbourne pursued, &ldquo;that Daisy and her mamma have
+      not yet risen to that stage of&mdash;what shall I call it?&mdash;of
+      culture at which the idea of catching a count or a marchese begins. I
+      believe that they are intellectually incapable of that conception.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but the avvocato can&rsquo;t believe it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the observation excited by Daisy&rsquo;s &ldquo;intrigue,&rdquo; Winterbourne gathered
+      that day at St. Peter&rsquo;s sufficient evidence. A dozen of the American
+      colonists in Rome came to talk with Mrs. Costello, who sat on a little
+      portable stool at the base of one of the great pilasters. The vesper
+      service was going forward in splendid chants and organ tones in the
+      adjacent choir, and meanwhile, between Mrs. Costello and her friends,
+      there was a great deal said about poor little Miss Miller&rsquo;s going really
+      &ldquo;too far.&rdquo; Winterbourne was not pleased with what he heard, but when,
+      coming out upon the great steps of the church, he saw Daisy, who had
+      emerged before him, get into an open cab with her accomplice and roll away
+      through the cynical streets of Rome, he could not deny to himself that she
+      was going very far indeed. He felt very sorry for her&mdash;not exactly
+      that he believed that she had completely lost her head, but because it was
+      painful to hear so much that was pretty, and undefended, and natural
+      assigned to a vulgar place among the categories of disorder. He made an
+      attempt after this to give a hint to Mrs. Miller. He met one day in the
+      Corso a friend, a tourist like himself, who had just come out of the Doria
+      Palace, where he had been walking through the beautiful gallery. His
+      friend talked for a moment about the superb portrait of Innocent X by
+      Velasquez which hangs in one of the cabinets of the palace, and then said,
+      &ldquo;And in the same cabinet, by the way, I had the pleasure of contemplating
+      a picture of a different kind&mdash;that pretty American girl whom you
+      pointed out to me last week.&rdquo; In answer to Winterbourne&rsquo;s inquiries, his
+      friend narrated that the pretty American girl&mdash;prettier than ever&mdash;was
+      seated with a companion in the secluded nook in which the great papal
+      portrait was enshrined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was her companion?&rdquo; asked Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little Italian with a bouquet in his buttonhole. The girl is
+      delightfully pretty, but I thought I understood from you the other day
+      that she was a young lady du meilleur monde.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she is!&rdquo; answered Winterbourne; and having assured himself that his
+      informant had seen Daisy and her companion but five minutes before, he
+      jumped into a cab and went to call on Mrs. Miller. She was at home; but
+      she apologized to him for receiving him in Daisy&rsquo;s absence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s gone out somewhere with Mr. Giovanelli,&rdquo; said Mrs. Miller. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s
+      always going round with Mr. Giovanelli.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have noticed that they are very intimate,&rdquo; Winterbourne observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it seems as if they couldn&rsquo;t live without each other!&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Miller. &ldquo;Well, he&rsquo;s a real gentleman, anyhow. I keep telling Daisy she&rsquo;s
+      engaged!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what does Daisy say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she says she isn&rsquo;t engaged. But she might as well be!&rdquo; this impartial
+      parent resumed; &ldquo;she goes on as if she was. But I&rsquo;ve made Mr. Giovanelli
+      promise to tell me, if SHE doesn&rsquo;t. I should want to write to Mr. Miller
+      about it&mdash;shouldn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne replied that he certainly should; and the state of mind of
+      Daisy&rsquo;s mamma struck him as so unprecedented in the annals of parental
+      vigilance that he gave up as utterly irrelevant the attempt to place her
+      upon her guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After this Daisy was never at home, and Winterbourne ceased to meet her at
+      the houses of their common acquaintances, because, as he perceived, these
+      shrewd people had quite made up their minds that she was going too far.
+      They ceased to invite her; and they intimated that they desired to express
+      to observant Europeans the great truth that, though Miss Daisy Miller was
+      a young American lady, her behavior was not representative&mdash;was
+      regarded by her compatriots as abnormal. Winterbourne wondered how she
+      felt about all the cold shoulders that were turned toward her, and
+      sometimes it annoyed him to suspect that she did not feel at all. He said
+      to himself that she was too light and childish, too uncultivated and
+      unreasoning, too provincial, to have reflected upon her ostracism, or even
+      to have perceived it. Then at other moments he believed that she carried
+      about in her elegant and irresponsible little organism a defiant,
+      passionate, perfectly observant consciousness of the impression she
+      produced. He asked himself whether Daisy&rsquo;s defiance came from the
+      consciousness of innocence, or from her being, essentially, a young person
+      of the reckless class. It must be admitted that holding one&rsquo;s self to a
+      belief in Daisy&rsquo;s &ldquo;innocence&rdquo; came to seem to Winterbourne more and more a
+      matter of fine-spun gallantry. As I have already had occasion to relate,
+      he was angry at finding himself reduced to chopping logic about this young
+      lady; he was vexed at his want of instinctive certitude as to how far her
+      eccentricities were generic, national, and how far they were personal.
+      From either view of them he had somehow missed her, and now it was too
+      late. She was &ldquo;carried away&rdquo; by Mr. Giovanelli.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few days after his brief interview with her mother, he encountered her
+      in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the Palace of the
+      Caesars. The early Roman spring had filled the air with bloom and perfume,
+      and the rugged surface of the Palatine was muffled with tender verdure.
+      Daisy was strolling along the top of one of those great mounds of ruin
+      that are embanked with mossy marble and paved with monumental
+      inscriptions. It seemed to him that Rome had never been so lovely as just
+      then. He stood, looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and color
+      that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors, and
+      feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity of the place reaffirm
+      themselves in mysterious interfusion. It seemed to him also that Daisy had
+      never looked so pretty, but this had been an observation of his whenever
+      he met her. Giovanelli was at her side, and Giovanelli, too, wore an
+      aspect of even unwonted brilliancy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Daisy, &ldquo;I should think you would be lonesome!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lonesome?&rdquo; asked Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are always going round by yourself. Can&rsquo;t you get anyone to walk with
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so fortunate,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;as your companion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Giovanelli, from the first, had treated Winterbourne with distinguished
+      politeness. He listened with a deferential air to his remarks; he laughed
+      punctiliously at his pleasantries; he seemed disposed to testify to his
+      belief that Winterbourne was a superior young man. He carried himself in
+      no degree like a jealous wooer; he had obviously a great deal of tact; he
+      had no objection to your expecting a little humility of him. It even
+      seemed to Winterbourne at times that Giovanelli would find a certain
+      mental relief in being able to have a private understanding with him&mdash;to
+      say to him, as an intelligent man, that, bless you, HE knew how
+      extraordinary was this young lady, and didn&rsquo;t flatter himself with
+      delusive&mdash;or at least TOO delusive&mdash;hopes of matrimony and
+      dollars. On this occasion he strolled away from his companion to pluck a
+      sprig of almond blossom, which he carefully arranged in his buttonhole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know why you say that,&rdquo; said Daisy, watching Giovanelli. &ldquo;Because you
+      think I go round too much with HIM.&rdquo; And she nodded at her attendant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one thinks so&mdash;if you care to know,&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I care to know!&rdquo; Daisy exclaimed seriously. &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t
+      believe it. They are only pretending to be shocked. They don&rsquo;t really care
+      a straw what I do. Besides, I don&rsquo;t go round so much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you will find they do care. They will show it disagreeably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy looked at him a moment. &ldquo;How disagreeably?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you noticed anything?&rdquo; Winterbourne asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have noticed you. But I noticed you were as stiff as an umbrella the
+      first time I saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will find I am not so stiff as several others,&rdquo; said Winterbourne,
+      smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How shall I find it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By going to see the others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will they do to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They will give you the cold shoulder. Do you know what that means?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy was looking at him intently; she began to color. &ldquo;Do you mean as
+      Mrs. Walker did the other night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly!&rdquo; said Winterbourne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked away at Giovanelli, who was decorating himself with his almond
+      blossom. Then looking back at Winterbourne, &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t think you would
+      let people be so unkind!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I help it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think you would say something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do say something;&rdquo; and he paused a moment. &ldquo;I say that your mother
+      tells me that she believes you are engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she does,&rdquo; said Daisy very simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne began to laugh. &ldquo;And does Randolph believe it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess Randolph doesn&rsquo;t believe anything,&rdquo; said Daisy. Randolph&rsquo;s
+      skepticism excited Winterbourne to further hilarity, and he observed that
+      Giovanelli was coming back to them. Daisy, observing it too, addressed
+      herself again to her countryman. &ldquo;Since you have mentioned it,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;I AM engaged.&rdquo; * * * Winterbourne looked at her; he had stopped laughing.
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t believe!&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent a moment; and then, &ldquo;Yes, I believe it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, you don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;Well, then&mdash;I am not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl and her cicerone were on their way to the gate of the
+      enclosure, so that Winterbourne, who had but lately entered, presently
+      took leave of them. A week afterward he went to dine at a beautiful villa
+      on the Caelian Hill, and, on arriving, dismissed his hired vehicle. The
+      evening was charming, and he promised himself the satisfaction of walking
+      home beneath the Arch of Constantine and past the vaguely lighted
+      monuments of the Forum. There was a waning moon in the sky, and her
+      radiance was not brilliant, but she was veiled in a thin cloud curtain
+      which seemed to diffuse and equalize it. When, on his return from the
+      villa (it was eleven o&rsquo;clock), Winterbourne approached the dusky circle of
+      the Colosseum, it recurred to him, as a lover of the picturesque, that the
+      interior, in the pale moonshine, would be well worth a glance. He turned
+      aside and walked to one of the empty arches, near which, as he observed,
+      an open carriage&mdash;one of the little Roman streetcabs&mdash;was
+      stationed. Then he passed in, among the cavernous shadows of the great
+      structure, and emerged upon the clear and silent arena. The place had
+      never seemed to him more impressive. One-half of the gigantic circus was
+      in deep shade, the other was sleeping in the luminous dusk. As he stood
+      there he began to murmur Byron&rsquo;s famous lines, out of &ldquo;Manfred,&rdquo; but
+      before he had finished his quotation he remembered that if nocturnal
+      meditations in the Colosseum are recommended by the poets, they are
+      deprecated by the doctors. The historic atmosphere was there, certainly;
+      but the historic atmosphere, scientifically considered, was no better than
+      a villainous miasma. Winterbourne walked to the middle of the arena, to
+      take a more general glance, intending thereafter to make a hasty retreat.
+      The great cross in the center was covered with shadow; it was only as he
+      drew near it that he made it out distinctly. Then he saw that two persons
+      were stationed upon the low steps which formed its base. One of these was
+      a woman, seated; her companion was standing in front of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the sound of the woman&rsquo;s voice came to him distinctly in the
+      warm night air. &ldquo;Well, he looks at us as one of the old lions or tigers
+      may have looked at the Christian martyrs!&rdquo; These were the words he heard,
+      in the familiar accent of Miss Daisy Miller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us hope he is not very hungry,&rdquo; responded the ingenious Giovanelli.
+      &ldquo;He will have to take me first; you will serve for dessert!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne stopped, with a sort of horror, and, it must be added, with a
+      sort of relief. It was as if a sudden illumination had been flashed upon
+      the ambiguity of Daisy&rsquo;s behavior, and the riddle had become easy to read.
+      She was a young lady whom a gentleman need no longer be at pains to
+      respect. He stood there, looking at her&mdash;looking at her companion and
+      not reflecting that though he saw them vaguely, he himself must have been
+      more brightly visible. He felt angry with himself that he had bothered so
+      much about the right way of regarding Miss Daisy Miller. Then, as he was
+      going to advance again, he checked himself, not from the fear that he was
+      doing her injustice, but from a sense of the danger of appearing
+      unbecomingly exhilarated by this sudden revulsion from cautious criticism.
+      He turned away toward the entrance of the place, but, as he did so, he
+      heard Daisy speak again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it was Mr. Winterbourne! He saw me, and he cuts me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What a clever little reprobate she was, and how smartly she played at
+      injured innocence! But he wouldn&rsquo;t cut her. Winterbourne came forward
+      again and went toward the great cross. Daisy had got up; Giovanelli lifted
+      his hat. Winterbourne had now begun to think simply of the craziness, from
+      a sanitary point of view, of a delicate young girl lounging away the
+      evening in this nest of malaria. What if she WERE a clever little
+      reprobate? that was no reason for her dying of the perniciosa. &ldquo;How long
+      have you been here?&rdquo; he asked almost brutally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy, lovely in the flattering moonlight, looked at him a moment. Then&mdash;&ldquo;All
+      the evening,&rdquo; she answered, gently. * * * &ldquo;I never saw anything so
+      pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;that you will not think Roman fever
+      very pretty. This is the way people catch it. I wonder,&rdquo; he added, turning
+      to Giovanelli, &ldquo;that you, a native Roman, should countenance such a
+      terrible indiscretion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the handsome native, &ldquo;for myself I am not afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither am I&mdash;for you! I am speaking for this young lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Giovanelli lifted his well-shaped eyebrows and showed his brilliant teeth.
+      But he took Winterbourne&rsquo;s rebuke with docility. &ldquo;I told the signorina it
+      was a grave indiscretion, but when was the signorina ever prudent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never was sick, and I don&rsquo;t mean to be!&rdquo; the signorina declared. &ldquo;I
+      don&rsquo;t look like much, but I&rsquo;m healthy! I was bound to see the Colosseum by
+      moonlight; I shouldn&rsquo;t have wanted to go home without that; and we have
+      had the most beautiful time, haven&rsquo;t we, Mr. Giovanelli? If there has been
+      any danger, Eugenio can give me some pills. He has got some splendid
+      pills.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should advise you,&rdquo; said Winterbourne, &ldquo;to drive home as fast as
+      possible and take one!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you say is very wise,&rdquo; Giovanelli rejoined. &ldquo;I will go and make sure
+      the carriage is at hand.&rdquo; And he went forward rapidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy followed with Winterbourne. He kept looking at her; she seemed not
+      in the least embarrassed. Winterbourne said nothing; Daisy chattered about
+      the beauty of the place. &ldquo;Well, I HAVE seen the Colosseum by moonlight!&rdquo;
+       she exclaimed. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s one good thing.&rdquo; Then, noticing Winterbourne&rsquo;s
+      silence, she asked him why he didn&rsquo;t speak. He made no answer; he only
+      began to laugh. They passed under one of the dark archways; Giovanelli was
+      in front with the carriage. Here Daisy stopped a moment, looking at the
+      young American. &ldquo;DID you believe I was engaged, the other day?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter what I believed the other day,&rdquo; said Winterbourne,
+      still laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what do you believe now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe that it makes very little difference whether you are engaged or
+      not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt the young girl&rsquo;s pretty eyes fixed upon him through the thick
+      gloom of the archway; she was apparently going to answer. But Giovanelli
+      hurried her forward. &ldquo;Quick! quick!&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;if we get in by midnight we
+      are quite safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Daisy took her seat in the carriage, and the fortunate Italian placed
+      himself beside her. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget Eugenio&rsquo;s pills!&rdquo; said Winterbourne as
+      he lifted his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care,&rdquo; said Daisy in a little strange tone, &ldquo;whether I have Roman
+      fever or not!&rdquo; Upon this the cab driver cracked his whip, and they rolled
+      away over the desultory patches of the antique pavement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne, to do him justice, as it were, mentioned to no one that he
+      had encountered Miss Miller, at midnight, in the Colosseum with a
+      gentleman; but nevertheless, a couple of days later, the fact of her
+      having been there under these circumstances was known to every member of
+      the little American circle, and commented accordingly. Winterbourne
+      reflected that they had of course known it at the hotel, and that, after
+      Daisy&rsquo;s return, there had been an exchange of remarks between the porter
+      and the cab driver. But the young man was conscious, at the same moment,
+      that it had ceased to be a matter of serious regret to him that the little
+      American flirt should be &ldquo;talked about&rdquo; by low-minded menials. These
+      people, a day or two later, had serious information to give: the little
+      American flirt was alarmingly ill. Winterbourne, when the rumor came to
+      him, immediately went to the hotel for more news. He found that two or
+      three charitable friends had preceded him, and that they were being
+      entertained in Mrs. Miller&rsquo;s salon by Randolph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going round at night,&rdquo; said Randolph&mdash;&ldquo;that&rsquo;s what made her
+      sick. She&rsquo;s always going round at night. I shouldn&rsquo;t think she&rsquo;d want to,
+      it&rsquo;s so plaguy dark. You can&rsquo;t see anything here at night, except when
+      there&rsquo;s a moon. In America there&rsquo;s always a moon!&rdquo; Mrs. Miller was
+      invisible; she was now, at least, giving her daughter the advantage of her
+      society. It was evident that Daisy was dangerously ill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne went often to ask for news of her, and once he saw Mrs.
+      Miller, who, though deeply alarmed, was, rather to his surprise, perfectly
+      composed, and, as it appeared, a most efficient and judicious nurse. She
+      talked a good deal about Dr. Davis, but Winterbourne paid her the
+      compliment of saying to himself that she was not, after all, such a
+      monstrous goose. &ldquo;Daisy spoke of you the other day,&rdquo; she said to him.
+      &ldquo;Half the time she doesn&rsquo;t know what she&rsquo;s saying, but that time I think
+      she did. She gave me a message she told me to tell you. She told me to
+      tell you that she never was engaged to that handsome Italian. I am sure I
+      am very glad; Mr. Giovanelli hasn&rsquo;t been near us since she was taken ill.
+      I thought he was so much of a gentleman; but I don&rsquo;t call that very
+      polite! A lady told me that he was afraid I was angry with him for taking
+      Daisy round at night. Well, so I am, but I suppose he knows I&rsquo;m a lady. I
+      would scorn to scold him. Anyway, she says she&rsquo;s not engaged. I don&rsquo;t know
+      why she wanted you to know, but she said to me three times, &lsquo;Mind you tell
+      Mr. Winterbourne.&rsquo; And then she told me to ask if you remembered the time
+      you went to that castle in Switzerland. But I said I wouldn&rsquo;t give any
+      such messages as that. Only, if she is not engaged, I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;m glad to
+      know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as Winterbourne had said, it mattered very little. A week after this,
+      the poor girl died; it had been a terrible case of the fever. Daisy&rsquo;s
+      grave was in the little Protestant cemetery, in an angle of the wall of
+      imperial Rome, beneath the cypresses and the thick spring flowers.
+      Winterbourne stood there beside it, with a number of other mourners, a
+      number larger than the scandal excited by the young lady&rsquo;s career would
+      have led you to expect. Near him stood Giovanelli, who came nearer still
+      before Winterbourne turned away. Giovanelli was very pale: on this
+      occasion he had no flower in his buttonhole; he seemed to wish to say
+      something. At last he said, &ldquo;She was the most beautiful young lady I ever
+      saw, and the most amiable;&rdquo; and then he added in a moment, &ldquo;and she was
+      the most innocent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne looked at him and presently repeated his words, &ldquo;And the most
+      innocent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most innocent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne felt sore and angry. &ldquo;Why the devil,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;did you take
+      her to that fatal place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Giovanelli&rsquo;s urbanity was apparently imperturbable. He looked on the
+      ground a moment, and then he said, &ldquo;For myself I had no fear; and she
+      wanted to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was no reason!&rdquo; Winterbourne declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The subtle Roman again dropped his eyes. &ldquo;If she had lived, I should have
+      got nothing. She would never have married me, I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would never have married you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For a moment I hoped so. But no. I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne listened to him: he stood staring at the raw protuberance
+      among the April daisies. When he turned away again, Mr. Giovanelli, with
+      his light, slow step, had retired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne almost immediately left Rome; but the following summer he
+      again met his aunt, Mrs. Costello at Vevey. Mrs. Costello was fond of
+      Vevey. In the interval Winterbourne had often thought of Daisy Miller and
+      her mystifying manners. One day he spoke of her to his aunt&mdash;said it
+      was on his conscience that he had done her injustice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Mrs. Costello. &ldquo;How did your injustice
+      affect her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She sent me a message before her death which I didn&rsquo;t understand at the
+      time; but I have understood it since. She would have appreciated one&rsquo;s
+      esteem.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that a modest way,&rdquo; asked Mrs. Costello, &ldquo;of saying that she would
+      have reciprocated one&rsquo;s affection?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterbourne offered no answer to this question; but he presently said,
+      &ldquo;You were right in that remark that you made last summer. I was booked to
+      make a mistake. I have lived too long in foreign parts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, he went back to live at Geneva, whence there continue to
+      come the most contradictory accounts of his motives of sojourn: a report
+      that he is &ldquo;studying&rdquo; hard&mdash;an intimation that he is much interested
+      in a very clever foreign lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Daisy Miller
+
+Author: Henry James
+
+Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #208]
+[Last updated: May 13, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY MILLER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+DAISY MILLER: A STUDY
+
+IN TWO PARTS
+
+The text is that of the first American appearance in book form, 1879.
+
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a particularly
+comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels, for the entertainment
+of tourists is the business of the place, which, as many travelers will
+remember, is seated upon the edge of a remarkably blue lake--a lake that
+it behooves every tourist to visit. The shore of the lake presents an
+unbroken array of establishments of this order, of every category, from
+the "grand hotel" of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front, a
+hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof, to the little
+Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name inscribed in German-looking
+lettering upon a pink or yellow wall and an awkward summerhouse in the
+angle of the garden. One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous,
+even classical, being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors
+by an air both of luxury and of maturity. In this region, in the month
+of June, American travelers are extremely numerous; it may be said,
+indeed, that Vevey assumes at this period some of the characteristics
+of an American watering place. There are sights and sounds which evoke a
+vision, an echo, of Newport and Saratoga. There is a flitting hither
+and thither of "stylish" young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces,
+a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of high-pitched
+voices at all times. You receive an impression of these things at the
+excellent inn of the "Trois Couronnes" and are transported in fancy to
+the Ocean House or to Congress Hall. But at the "Trois Couronnes," it
+must be added, there are other features that are much at variance with
+these suggestions: neat German waiters, who look like secretaries of
+legation; Russian princesses sitting in the garden; little Polish boys
+walking about held by the hand, with their governors; a view of the
+sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and the picturesque towers of the Castle
+of Chillon.
+
+I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
+uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
+sat in the garden of the "Trois Couronnes," looking about him, rather
+idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned. It was a
+beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young American
+looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming. He had come
+from Geneva the day before by the little steamer, to see his aunt, who
+was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been for a long time his place
+of residence. But his aunt had a headache--his aunt had almost always a
+headache--and now she was shut up in her room, smelling camphor, so that
+he was at liberty to wander about. He was some seven-and-twenty years
+of age; when his friends spoke of him, they usually said that he was at
+Geneva "studying." When his enemies spoke of him, they said--but,
+after all, he had no enemies; he was an extremely amiable fellow, and
+universally liked. What I should say is, simply, that when certain
+persons spoke of him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so
+much time at Geneva was that he was extremely devoted to a lady who
+lived there--a foreign lady--a person older than himself. Very few
+Americans--indeed, I think none--had ever seen this lady, about whom
+there were some singular stories. But Winterbourne had an old attachment
+for the little metropolis of Calvinism; he had been put to school there
+as a boy, and he had afterward gone to college there--circumstances
+which had led to his forming a great many youthful friendships. Many of
+these he had kept, and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
+
+After knocking at his aunt's door and learning that she was indisposed,
+he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to his
+breakfast. He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking a
+small cup of coffee, which had been served to him on a little table in
+the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache. At last
+he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. Presently a small boy came
+walking along the path--an urchin of nine or ten. The child, who was
+diminutive for his years, had an aged expression of countenance, a pale
+complexion, and sharp little features. He was dressed in knickerbockers,
+with red stockings, which displayed his poor little spindle-shanks;
+he also wore a brilliant red cravat. He carried in his hand a long
+alpenstock, the sharp point of which he thrust into everything that
+he approached--the flowerbeds, the garden benches, the trains of the
+ladies' dresses. In front of Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with
+a pair of bright, penetrating little eyes.
+
+"Will you give me a lump of sugar?" he asked in a sharp, hard little
+voice--a voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
+
+Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
+service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained. "Yes,
+you may take one," he answered; "but I don't think sugar is good for
+little boys."
+
+This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of
+the coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of his
+knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place. He
+poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne's bench and tried
+to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
+
+"Oh, blazes; it's har-r-d!" he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective in a
+peculiar manner.
+
+Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might have the honor
+of claiming him as a fellow countryman. "Take care you don't hurt your
+teeth," he said, paternally.
+
+"I haven't got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out. I have only
+got seven teeth. My mother counted them last night, and one came out
+right afterward. She said she'd slap me if any more came out. I can't
+help it. It's this old Europe. It's the climate that makes them come
+out. In America they didn't come out. It's these hotels."
+
+Winterbourne was much amused. "If you eat three lumps of sugar, your
+mother will certainly slap you," he said.
+
+"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young
+interlocutor. "I can't get any candy here--any American candy. American
+candy's the best candy."
+
+"And are American little boys the best little boys?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"I don't know. I'm an American boy," said the child.
+
+"I see you are one of the best!" laughed Winterbourne.
+
+"Are you an American man?" pursued this vivacious infant. And then,
+on Winterbourne's affirmative reply--"American men are the best," he
+declared.
+
+His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child, who had
+now got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking about him, while he
+attacked a second lump of sugar. Winterbourne wondered if he himself
+had been like this in his infancy, for he had been brought to Europe at
+about this age.
+
+"Here comes my sister!" cried the child in a moment. "She's an American
+girl."
+
+Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful young lady
+advancing. "American girls are the best girls," he said cheerfully to
+his young companion.
+
+"My sister ain't the best!" the child declared. "She's always blowing at
+me."
+
+"I imagine that is your fault, not hers," said Winterbourne. The young
+lady meanwhile had drawn near. She was dressed in white muslin, with a
+hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon. She was
+bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol, with a deep
+border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty. "How
+pretty they are!" thought Winterbourne, straightening himself in his
+seat, as if he were prepared to rise.
+
+The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the
+garden, which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his
+alpenstock into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing
+about in the gravel and kicking it up not a little.
+
+"Randolph," said the young lady, "what ARE you doing?"
+
+"I'm going up the Alps," replied Randolph. "This is the way!" And he
+gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles about Winterbourne's
+ears.
+
+"That's the way they come down," said Winterbourne.
+
+"He's an American man!" cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
+
+The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked straight
+at her brother. "Well, I guess you had better be quiet," she simply
+observed.
+
+It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He
+got up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his
+cigarette. "This little boy and I have made acquaintance," he said, with
+great civility. In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young
+man was not at liberty to speak to a young unmarried lady except under
+certain rarely occurring conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions
+could be better than these?--a pretty American girl coming and standing
+in front of you in a garden. This pretty American girl, however, on
+hearing Winterbourne's observation, simply glanced at him; she then
+turned her head and looked over the parapet, at the lake and the
+opposite mountains. He wondered whether he had gone too far, but he
+decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat. While he was
+thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned to the little
+boy again.
+
+"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.
+
+"I bought it," responded Randolph.
+
+"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.
+
+The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a
+knot or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
+"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a
+moment.
+
+"Are you going to Italy?" Winterbourne inquired in a tone of great
+respect.
+
+The young lady glanced at him again. "Yes, sir," she replied. And she
+said nothing more.
+
+"Are you--a--going over the Simplon?" Winterbourne pursued, a little
+embarrassed.
+
+"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's some mountain. Randolph, what
+mountain are we going over?"
+
+"Going where?" the child demanded.
+
+"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.
+
+"I don't know," said Randolph. "I don't want to go to Italy. I want to
+go to America."
+
+"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.
+
+"Can you get candy there?" Randolph loudly inquired.
+
+"I hope not," said his sister. "I guess you have had enough candy, and
+mother thinks so too."
+
+"I haven't had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!" cried the
+boy, still jumping about.
+
+The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
+and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty of the
+view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun to perceive
+that she was not in the least embarrassed herself. There had not been
+the slightest alteration in her charming complexion; she was evidently
+neither offended nor flattered. If she looked another way when he spoke
+to her, and seemed not particularly to hear him, this was simply her
+habit, her manner. Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some
+of the objects of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite
+unacquainted, she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance;
+and then he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking.
+It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance,
+for the young girl's eyes were singularly honest and fresh. They were
+wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not seen for
+a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman's various
+features--her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth. He had a great
+relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to observing and analyzing
+it; and as regards this young lady's face he made several observations.
+It was not at all insipid, but it was not exactly expressive; and
+though it was eminently delicate, Winterbourne mentally accused it--very
+forgivingly--of a want of finish. He thought it very possible that
+Master Randolph's sister was a coquette; he was sure she had a spirit of
+her own; but in her bright, sweet, superficial little visage there was
+no mockery, no irony. Before long it became obvious that she was much
+disposed toward conversation. She told him that they were going to Rome
+for the winter--she and her mother and Randolph. She asked him if he was
+a "real American"; she shouldn't have taken him for one; he seemed more
+like a German--this was said after a little hesitation--especially when
+he spoke. Winterbourne, laughing, answered that he had met Germans who
+spoke like Americans, but that he had not, so far as he remembered, met
+an American who spoke like a German. Then he asked her if she should not
+be more comfortable in sitting upon the bench which he had just quitted.
+She answered that she liked standing up and walking about; but she
+presently sat down. She told him she was from New York State--"if you
+know where that is." Winterbourne learned more about her by catching
+hold of her small, slippery brother and making him stand a few minutes
+by his side.
+
+"Tell me your name, my boy," he said.
+
+"Randolph C. Miller," said the boy sharply. "And I'll tell you her
+name;" and he leveled his alpenstock at his sister.
+
+"You had better wait till you are asked!" said this young lady calmly.
+
+"I should like very much to know your name," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Her name is Daisy Miller!" cried the child. "But that isn't her real
+name; that isn't her name on her cards."
+
+"It's a pity you haven't got one of my cards!" said Miss Miller.
+
+"Her real name is Annie P. Miller," the boy went on.
+
+"Ask him HIS name," said his sister, indicating Winterbourne.
+
+But on this point Randolph seemed perfectly indifferent; he continued to
+supply information with regard to his own family. "My father's name is
+Ezra B. Miller," he announced. "My father ain't in Europe; my father's
+in a better place than Europe."
+
+Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in which the
+child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller had been removed to
+the sphere of celestial reward. But Randolph immediately added, "My
+father's in Schenectady. He's got a big business. My father's rich, you
+bet!"
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Miss Miller, lowering her parasol and looking at
+the embroidered border. Winterbourne presently released the child,
+who departed, dragging his alpenstock along the path. "He doesn't like
+Europe," said the young girl. "He wants to go back."
+
+"To Schenectady, you mean?"
+
+"Yes; he wants to go right home. He hasn't got any boys here. There is
+one boy here, but he always goes round with a teacher; they won't let
+him play."
+
+"And your brother hasn't any teacher?" Winterbourne inquired.
+
+"Mother thought of getting him one, to travel round with us. There was a
+lady told her of a very good teacher; an American lady--perhaps you know
+her--Mrs. Sanders. I think she came from Boston. She told her of this
+teacher, and we thought of getting him to travel round with us. But
+Randolph said he didn't want a teacher traveling round with us. He said
+he wouldn't have lessons when he was in the cars. And we ARE in the cars
+about half the time. There was an English lady we met in the cars--I
+think her name was Miss Featherstone; perhaps you know her. She wanted
+to know why I didn't give Randolph lessons--give him 'instruction,' she
+called it. I guess he could give me more instruction than I could give
+him. He's very smart."
+
+"Yes," said Winterbourne; "he seems very smart."
+
+"Mother's going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy. Can
+you get good teachers in Italy?"
+
+"Very good, I should think," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Or else she's going to find some school. He ought to learn some more.
+He's only nine. He's going to college." And in this way Miss Miller
+continued to converse upon the affairs of her family and upon other
+topics. She sat there with her extremely pretty hands, ornamented with
+very brilliant rings, folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now
+resting upon those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden, the
+people who passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to Winterbourne
+as if she had known him a long time. He found it very pleasant. It was
+many years since he had heard a young girl talk so much. It might have
+been said of this unknown young lady, who had come and sat down beside
+him upon a bench, that she chattered. She was very quiet; she sat in a
+charming, tranquil attitude; but her lips and her eyes were constantly
+moving. She had a soft, slender, agreeable voice, and her tone was
+decidedly sociable. She gave Winterbourne a history of her movements
+and intentions and those of her mother and brother, in Europe, and
+enumerated, in particular, the various hotels at which they had stopped.
+"That English lady in the cars," she said--"Miss Featherstone--asked me
+if we didn't all live in hotels in America. I told her I had never been
+in so many hotels in my life as since I came to Europe. I have never
+seen so many--it's nothing but hotels." But Miss Miller did not make
+this remark with a querulous accent; she appeared to be in the best
+humor with everything. She declared that the hotels were very good, when
+once you got used to their ways, and that Europe was perfectly sweet.
+She was not disappointed--not a bit. Perhaps it was because she had
+heard so much about it before. She had ever so many intimate friends
+that had been there ever so many times. And then she had had ever so
+many dresses and things from Paris. Whenever she put on a Paris dress
+she felt as if she were in Europe.
+
+"It was a kind of a wishing cap," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Miller without examining this analogy; "it always made
+me wish I was here. But I needn't have done that for dresses. I am sure
+they send all the pretty ones to America; you see the most frightful
+things here. The only thing I don't like," she proceeded, "is the
+society. There isn't any society; or, if there is, I don't know where it
+keeps itself. Do you? I suppose there is some society somewhere, but I
+haven't seen anything of it. I'm very fond of society, and I have always
+had a great deal of it. I don't mean only in Schenectady, but in New
+York. I used to go to New York every winter. In New York I had lots of
+society. Last winter I had seventeen dinners given me; and three of them
+were by gentlemen," added Daisy Miller. "I have more friends in New York
+than in Schenectady--more gentleman friends; and more young lady friends
+too," she resumed in a moment. She paused again for an instant; she was
+looking at Winterbourne with all her prettiness in her lively eyes and
+in her light, slightly monotonous smile. "I have always had," she said,
+"a great deal of gentlemen's society."
+
+Poor Winterbourne was amused, perplexed, and decidedly charmed. He
+had never yet heard a young girl express herself in just this fashion;
+never, at least, save in cases where to say such things seemed a kind of
+demonstrative evidence of a certain laxity of deportment. And yet was he
+to accuse Miss Daisy Miller of actual or potential inconduite, as they
+said at Geneva? He felt that he had lived at Geneva so long that he
+had lost a good deal; he had become dishabituated to the American tone.
+Never, indeed, since he had grown old enough to appreciate things, had
+he encountered a young American girl of so pronounced a type as this.
+Certainly she was very charming, but how deucedly sociable! Was she
+simply a pretty girl from New York State? Were they all like that, the
+pretty girls who had a good deal of gentlemen's society? Or was she also
+a designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person? Winterbourne
+had lost his instinct in this matter, and his reason could not help him.
+Miss Daisy Miller looked extremely innocent. Some people had told him
+that, after all, American girls were exceedingly innocent; and others
+had told him that, after all, they were not. He was inclined to think
+Miss Daisy Miller was a flirt--a pretty American flirt. He had never, as
+yet, had any relations with young ladies of this category. He had
+known, here in Europe, two or three women--persons older than Miss Daisy
+Miller, and provided, for respectability's sake, with husbands--who were
+great coquettes--dangerous, terrible women, with whom one's relations
+were liable to take a serious turn. But this young girl was not a
+coquette in that sense; she was very unsophisticated; she was only a
+pretty American flirt. Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found
+the formula that applied to Miss Daisy Miller. He leaned back in his
+seat; he remarked to himself that she had the most charming nose he had
+ever seen; he wondered what were the regular conditions and limitations
+of one's intercourse with a pretty American flirt. It presently became
+apparent that he was on the way to learn.
+
+"Have you been to that old castle?" asked the young girl, pointing with
+her parasol to the far-gleaming walls of the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+"Yes, formerly, more than once," said Winterbourne. "You too, I suppose,
+have seen it?"
+
+"No; we haven't been there. I want to go there dreadfully. Of course I
+mean to go there. I wouldn't go away from here without having seen that
+old castle."
+
+"It's a very pretty excursion," said Winterbourne, "and very easy to
+make. You can drive, you know, or you can go by the little steamer."
+
+"You can go in the cars," said Miss Miller.
+
+"Yes; you can go in the cars," Winterbourne assented.
+
+"Our courier says they take you right up to the castle," the young girl
+continued. "We were going last week, but my mother gave out. She suffers
+dreadfully from dyspepsia. She said she couldn't go. Randolph wouldn't
+go either; he says he doesn't think much of old castles. But I guess
+we'll go this week, if we can get Randolph."
+
+"Your brother is not interested in ancient monuments?" Winterbourne
+inquired, smiling.
+
+"He says he don't care much about old castles. He's only nine. He
+wants to stay at the hotel. Mother's afraid to leave him alone, and the
+courier won't stay with him; so we haven't been to many places. But it
+will be too bad if we don't go up there." And Miss Miller pointed again
+at the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+"I should think it might be arranged," said Winterbourne. "Couldn't you
+get some one to stay for the afternoon with Randolph?"
+
+Miss Miller looked at him a moment, and then, very placidly, "I wish YOU
+would stay with him!" she said.
+
+Winterbourne hesitated a moment. "I should much rather go to Chillon
+with you."
+
+"With me?" asked the young girl with the same placidity.
+
+She didn't rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done;
+and yet Winterbourne, conscious that he had been very bold, thought
+it possible she was offended. "With your mother," he answered very
+respectfully.
+
+But it seemed that both his audacity and his respect were lost upon Miss
+Daisy Miller. "I guess my mother won't go, after all," she said. "She
+don't like to ride round in the afternoon. But did you really mean what
+you said just now--that you would like to go up there?"
+
+"Most earnestly," Winterbourne declared.
+
+"Then we may arrange it. If mother will stay with Randolph, I guess
+Eugenio will."
+
+"Eugenio?" the young man inquired.
+
+"Eugenio's our courier. He doesn't like to stay with Randolph; he's the
+most fastidious man I ever saw. But he's a splendid courier. I guess
+he'll stay at home with Randolph if mother does, and then we can go to
+the castle."
+
+Winterbourne reflected for an instant as lucidly as possible--"we" could
+only mean Miss Daisy Miller and himself. This program seemed almost too
+agreeable for credence; he felt as if he ought to kiss the young lady's
+hand. Possibly he would have done so and quite spoiled the project, but
+at this moment another person, presumably Eugenio, appeared. A tall,
+handsome man, with superb whiskers, wearing a velvet morning coat and
+a brilliant watch chain, approached Miss Miller, looking sharply at her
+companion. "Oh, Eugenio!" said Miss Miller with the friendliest accent.
+
+Eugenio had looked at Winterbourne from head to foot; he now bowed
+gravely to the young lady. "I have the honor to inform mademoiselle that
+luncheon is upon the table."
+
+Miss Miller slowly rose. "See here, Eugenio!" she said; "I'm going to
+that old castle, anyway."
+
+"To the Chateau de Chillon, mademoiselle?" the courier inquired.
+"Mademoiselle has made arrangements?" he added in a tone which struck
+Winterbourne as very impertinent.
+
+Eugenio's tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller's own apprehension,
+a slightly ironical light upon the young girl's situation. She turned
+to Winterbourne, blushing a little--a very little. "You won't back out?"
+she said.
+
+"I shall not be happy till we go!" he protested.
+
+"And you are staying in this hotel?" she went on. "And you are really an
+American?"
+
+The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively. The young man,
+at least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller; it
+conveyed an imputation that she "picked up" acquaintances. "I shall have
+the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,"
+he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.
+
+"Oh, well, we'll go some day," said Miss Miller. And she gave him a
+smile and turned away. She put up her parasol and walked back to the inn
+beside Eugenio. Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved
+away, drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself that
+she had the tournure of a princess.
+
+He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising
+to present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller. As soon as the
+former lady had got better of her headache, he waited upon her in her
+apartment; and, after the proper inquiries in regard to her health, he
+asked her if she had observed in the hotel an American family--a mamma,
+a daughter, and a little boy.
+
+"And a courier?" said Mrs. Costello. "Oh yes, I have observed them. Seen
+them--heard them--and kept out of their way." Mrs. Costello was a widow
+with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently intimated
+that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches, she would
+probably have left a deeper impress upon her time. She had a long, pale
+face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white hair, which
+she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head. She had
+two sons married in New York and another who was now in Europe. This
+young man was amusing himself at Hamburg, and, though he was on his
+travels, was rarely perceived to visit any particular city at the moment
+selected by his mother for her own appearance there. Her nephew, who had
+come up to Vevey expressly to see her, was therefore more attentive than
+those who, as she said, were nearer to her. He had imbibed at Geneva the
+idea that one must always be attentive to one's aunt. Mrs. Costello
+had not seen him for many years, and she was greatly pleased with him,
+manifesting her approbation by initiating him into many of the secrets
+of that social sway which, as she gave him to understand, she exerted in
+the American capital. She admitted that she was very exclusive; but, if
+he were acquainted with New York, he would see that one had to be. And
+her picture of the minutely hierarchical constitution of the society of
+that city, which she presented to him in many different lights, was, to
+Winterbourne's imagination, almost oppressively striking.
+
+He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller's place
+in the social scale was low. "I am afraid you don't approve of them," he
+said.
+
+"They are very common," Mrs. Costello declared. "They are the sort of
+Americans that one does one's duty by not--not accepting."
+
+"Ah, you don't accept them?" said the young man.
+
+"I can't, my dear Frederick. I would if I could, but I can't."
+
+"The young girl is very pretty," said Winterbourne in a moment.
+
+"Of course she's pretty. But she is very common."
+
+"I see what you mean, of course," said Winterbourne after another pause.
+
+"She has that charming look that they all have," his aunt resumed. "I
+can't think where they pick it up; and she dresses in perfection--no,
+you don't know how well she dresses. I can't think where they get their
+taste."
+
+"But, my dear aunt, she is not, after all, a Comanche savage."
+
+"She is a young lady," said Mrs. Costello, "who has an intimacy with her
+mamma's courier."
+
+"An intimacy with the courier?" the young man demanded.
+
+"Oh, the mother is just as bad! They treat the courier like a familiar
+friend--like a gentleman. I shouldn't wonder if he dines with them.
+Very likely they have never seen a man with such good manners, such
+fine clothes, so like a gentleman. He probably corresponds to the young
+lady's idea of a count. He sits with them in the garden in the evening.
+I think he smokes."
+
+Winterbourne listened with interest to these disclosures; they helped
+him to make up his mind about Miss Daisy. Evidently she was rather wild.
+"Well," he said, "I am not a courier, and yet she was very charming to
+me."
+
+"You had better have said at first," said Mrs. Costello with dignity,
+"that you had made her acquaintance."
+
+"We simply met in the garden, and we talked a bit."
+
+"Tout bonnement! And pray what did you say?"
+
+"I said I should take the liberty of introducing her to my admirable
+aunt."
+
+"I am much obliged to you."
+
+"It was to guarantee my respectability," said Winterbourne.
+
+"And pray who is to guarantee hers?"
+
+"Ah, you are cruel!" said the young man. "She's a very nice young girl."
+
+"You don't say that as if you believed it," Mrs. Costello observed.
+
+"She is completely uncultivated," Winterbourne went on. "But she is
+wonderfully pretty, and, in short, she is very nice. To prove that I
+believe it, I am going to take her to the Chateau de Chillon."
+
+"You two are going off there together? I should say it proved just the
+contrary. How long had you known her, may I ask, when this interesting
+project was formed? You haven't been twenty-four hours in the house."
+
+"I have known her half an hour!" said Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Costello. "What a dreadful girl!"
+
+Her nephew was silent for some moments. "You really think, then," he
+began earnestly, and with a desire for trustworthy information--"you
+really think that--" But he paused again.
+
+"Think what, sir?" said his aunt.
+
+"That she is the sort of young lady who expects a man, sooner or later,
+to carry her off?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea what such young ladies expect a man to do. But
+I really think that you had better not meddle with little American girls
+that are uncultivated, as you call them. You have lived too long out of
+the country. You will be sure to make some great mistake. You are too
+innocent."
+
+"My dear aunt, I am not so innocent," said Winterbourne, smiling and
+curling his mustache.
+
+"You are guilty too, then!"
+
+Winterbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively. "You won't let
+the poor girl know you then?" he asked at last.
+
+"Is it literally true that she is going to the Chateau de Chillon with
+you?"
+
+"I think that she fully intends it."
+
+"Then, my dear Frederick," said Mrs. Costello, "I must decline the honor
+of her acquaintance. I am an old woman, but I am not too old, thank
+Heaven, to be shocked!"
+
+"But don't they all do these things--the young girls in America?"
+Winterbourne inquired.
+
+Mrs. Costello stared a moment. "I should like to see my granddaughters
+do them!" she declared grimly.
+
+This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for Winterbourne
+remembered to have heard that his pretty cousins in New York were
+"tremendous flirts." If, therefore, Miss Daisy Miller exceeded the
+liberal margin allowed to these young ladies, it was probable that
+anything might be expected of her. Winterbourne was impatient to see her
+again, and he was vexed with himself that, by instinct, he should not
+appreciate her justly.
+
+Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should say
+to her about his aunt's refusal to become acquainted with her; but he
+discovered, promptly enough, that with Miss Daisy Miller there was
+no great need of walking on tiptoe. He found her that evening in the
+garden, wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolent sylph,
+and swinging to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld. It was ten
+o'clock. He had dined with his aunt, had been sitting with her since
+dinner, and had just taken leave of her till the morrow. Miss Daisy
+Miller seemed very glad to see him; she declared it was the longest
+evening she had ever passed.
+
+"Have you been all alone?" he asked.
+
+"I have been walking round with mother. But mother gets tired walking
+round," she answered.
+
+"Has she gone to bed?"
+
+"No; she doesn't like to go to bed," said the young girl. "She doesn't
+sleep--not three hours. She says she doesn't know how she lives. She's
+dreadfully nervous. I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She's gone
+somewhere after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed. He
+doesn't like to go to bed."
+
+"Let us hope she will persuade him," observed Winterbourne.
+
+"She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn't like her to talk
+to him," said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. "She's going to try to get
+Eugenio to talk to him. But he isn't afraid of Eugenio. Eugenio's a
+splendid courier, but he can't make much impression on Randolph! I don't
+believe he'll go to bed before eleven." It appeared that Randolph's
+vigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged, for Winterbourne strolled
+about with the young girl for some time without meeting her mother. "I
+have been looking round for that lady you want to introduce me to," his
+companion resumed. "She's your aunt." Then, on Winterbourne's admitting
+the fact and expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it, she
+said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid. She was
+very quiet and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no
+one, and she never dined at the table d'hote. Every two days she had a
+headache. "I think that's a lovely description, headache and all!" said
+Miss Daisy, chattering along in her thin, gay voice. "I want to know her
+ever so much. I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like
+her. She would be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive; I'm
+dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive, mother and I. We
+don't speak to everyone--or they don't speak to us. I suppose it's about
+the same thing. Anyway, I shall be ever so glad to know your aunt."
+
+Winterbourne was embarrassed. "She would be most happy," he said; "but I
+am afraid those headaches will interfere."
+
+The young girl looked at him through the dusk. "But I suppose she
+doesn't have a headache every day," she said sympathetically.
+
+Winterbourne was silent a moment. "She tells me she does," he answered
+at last, not knowing what to say.
+
+Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness was
+still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her enormous
+fan. "She doesn't want to know me!" she said suddenly. "Why don't you
+say so? You needn't be afraid. I'm not afraid!" And she gave a little
+laugh.
+
+Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice; he was touched,
+shocked, mortified by it. "My dear young lady," he protested, "she knows
+no one. It's her wretched health."
+
+The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. "You needn't be
+afraid," she repeated. "Why should she want to know me?" Then she paused
+again; she was close to the parapet of the garden, and in front of her
+was the starlit lake. There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in
+the distance were dimly seen mountain forms. Daisy Miller looked out
+upon the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh.
+"Gracious! she IS exclusive!" she said. Winterbourne wondered whether
+she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense
+of injury might be such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to
+reassure and comfort her. He had a pleasant sense that she would be very
+approachable for consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant,
+quite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit that she
+was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn't mind her.
+But before he had time to commit himself to this perilous mixture
+of gallantry and impiety, the young lady, resuming her walk, gave an
+exclamation in quite another tone. "Well, here's Mother! I guess she
+hasn't got Randolph to go to bed." The figure of a lady appeared at a
+distance, very indistinct in the darkness, and advancing with a slow and
+wavering movement. Suddenly it seemed to pause.
+
+"Are you sure it is your mother? Can you distinguish her in this thick
+dusk?" Winterbourne asked.
+
+"Well!" cried Miss Daisy Miller with a laugh; "I guess I know my own
+mother. And when she has got on my shawl, too! She is always wearing my
+things."
+
+The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot
+at which she had checked her steps.
+
+"I am afraid your mother doesn't see you," said Winterbourne.
+"Or perhaps," he added, thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke
+permissible--"perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl."
+
+"Oh, it's a fearful old thing!" the young girl replied serenely. "I told
+her she could wear it. She won't come here because she sees you."
+
+"Ah, then," said Winterbourne, "I had better leave you."
+
+"Oh, no; come on!" urged Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"I'm afraid your mother doesn't approve of my walking with you."
+
+Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. "It isn't for me; it's for
+you--that is, it's for HER. Well, I don't know who it's for! But mother
+doesn't like any of my gentlemen friends. She's right down timid. She
+always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce
+them--almost always. If I didn't introduce my gentlemen friends to
+Mother," the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, "I
+shouldn't think I was natural."
+
+"To introduce me," said Winterbourne, "you must know my name." And he
+proceeded to pronounce it.
+
+"Oh, dear, I can't say all that!" said his companion with a laugh. But
+by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near,
+walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently
+at the lake and turning her back to them. "Mother!" said the young
+girl in a tone of decision. Upon this the elder lady turned round. "Mr.
+Winterbourne," said Miss Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very
+frankly and prettily. "Common," she was, as Mrs. Costello had pronounced
+her; yet it was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness, she
+had a singularly delicate grace.
+
+Her mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye,
+a very exiguous nose, and a large forehead, decorated with a certain
+amount of thin, much frizzled hair. Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was
+dressed with extreme elegance; she had enormous diamonds in her ears.
+So far as Winterbourne could observe, she gave him no greeting--she
+certainly was not looking at him. Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl
+straight. "What are you doing, poking round here?" this young lady
+inquired, but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice
+of words may imply.
+
+"I don't know," said her mother, turning toward the lake again.
+
+"I shouldn't think you'd want that shawl!" Daisy exclaimed.
+
+"Well I do!" her mother answered with a little laugh.
+
+"Did you get Randolph to go to bed?" asked the young girl.
+
+"No; I couldn't induce him," said Mrs. Miller very gently. "He wants to
+talk to the waiter. He likes to talk to that waiter."
+
+"I was telling Mr. Winterbourne," the young girl went on; and to the
+young man's ear her tone might have indicated that she had been uttering
+his name all her life.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Winterbourne; "I have the pleasure of knowing your son."
+
+Randolph's mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake. But
+at last she spoke. "Well, I don't see how he lives!"
+
+"Anyhow, it isn't so bad as it was at Dover," said Daisy Miller.
+
+"And what occurred at Dover?" Winterbourne asked.
+
+"He wouldn't go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public
+parlor. He wasn't in bed at twelve o'clock: I know that."
+
+"It was half-past twelve," declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis.
+
+"Does he sleep much during the day?" Winterbourne demanded.
+
+"I guess he doesn't sleep much," Daisy rejoined.
+
+"I wish he would!" said her mother. "It seems as if he couldn't."
+
+"I think he's real tiresome," Daisy pursued.
+
+Then, for some moments, there was silence. "Well, Daisy Miller," said
+the elder lady, presently, "I shouldn't think you'd want to talk against
+your own brother!"
+
+"Well, he IS tiresome, Mother," said Daisy, quite without the asperity
+of a retort.
+
+"He's only nine," urged Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Well, he wouldn't go to that castle," said the young girl. "I'm going
+there with Mr. Winterbourne."
+
+To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisy's mamma offered no
+response. Winterbourne took for granted that she deeply disapproved of
+the projected excursion; but he said to himself that she was a simple,
+easily managed person, and that a few deferential protestations would
+take the edge from her displeasure. "Yes," he began; "your daughter has
+kindly allowed me the honor of being her guide."
+
+Mrs. Miller's wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of
+appealing air, to Daisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther,
+gently humming to herself. "I presume you will go in the cars," said her
+mother.
+
+"Yes, or in the boat," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, of course, I don't know," Mrs. Miller rejoined. "I have never
+been to that castle."
+
+"It is a pity you shouldn't go," said Winterbourne, beginning to feel
+reassured as to her opposition. And yet he was quite prepared to find
+that, as a matter of course, she meant to accompany her daughter.
+
+"We've been thinking ever so much about going," she pursued; "but it
+seems as if we couldn't. Of course Daisy--she wants to go round. But
+there's a lady here--I don't know her name--she says she shouldn't think
+we'd want to go to see castles HERE; she should think we'd want to wait
+till we got to Italy. It seems as if there would be so many there,"
+continued Mrs. Miller with an air of increasing confidence. "Of course
+we only want to see the principal ones. We visited several in England,"
+she presently added.
+
+"Ah yes! in England there are beautiful castles," said Winterbourne.
+"But Chillon here, is very well worth seeing."
+
+"Well, if Daisy feels up to it--" said Mrs. Miller, in a tone
+impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise. "It seems
+as if there was nothing she wouldn't undertake."
+
+"Oh, I think she'll enjoy it!" Winterbourne declared. And he desired
+more and more to make it a certainty that he was to have the privilege
+of a tete-a-tete with the young lady, who was still strolling along
+in front of them, softly vocalizing. "You are not disposed, madam," he
+inquired, "to undertake it yourself?"
+
+Daisy's mother looked at him an instant askance, and then walked forward
+in silence. Then--"I guess she had better go alone," she said simply.
+Winterbourne observed to himself that this was a very different type of
+maternity from that of the vigilant matrons who massed themselves in the
+forefront of social intercourse in the dark old city at the other end of
+the lake. But his meditations were interrupted by hearing his name very
+distinctly pronounced by Mrs. Miller's unprotected daughter.
+
+"Mr. Winterbourne!" murmured Daisy.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" said the young man.
+
+"Don't you want to take me out in a boat?"
+
+"At present?" he asked.
+
+"Of course!" said Daisy.
+
+"Well, Annie Miller!" exclaimed her mother.
+
+"I beg you, madam, to let her go," said Winterbourne ardently; for
+he had never yet enjoyed the sensation of guiding through the summer
+starlight a skiff freighted with a fresh and beautiful young girl.
+
+"I shouldn't think she'd want to," said her mother. "I should think
+she'd rather go indoors."
+
+"I'm sure Mr. Winterbourne wants to take me," Daisy declared. "He's so
+awfully devoted!"
+
+"I will row you over to Chillon in the starlight."
+
+"I don't believe it!" said Daisy.
+
+"Well!" ejaculated the elder lady again.
+
+"You haven't spoken to me for half an hour," her daughter went on.
+
+"I have been having some very pleasant conversation with your mother,"
+said Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, I want you to take me out in a boat!" Daisy repeated. They had
+all stopped, and she had turned round and was looking at Winterbourne.
+Her face wore a charming smile, her pretty eyes were gleaming, she was
+swinging her great fan about. No; it's impossible to be prettier than
+that, thought Winterbourne.
+
+"There are half a dozen boats moored at that landing place," he said,
+pointing to certain steps which descended from the garden to the lake.
+"If you will do me the honor to accept my arm, we will go and select one
+of them."
+
+Daisy stood there smiling; she threw back her head and gave a little,
+light laugh. "I like a gentleman to be formal!" she declared.
+
+"I assure you it's a formal offer."
+
+"I was bound I would make you say something," Daisy went on.
+
+"You see, it's not very difficult," said Winterbourne. "But I am afraid
+you are chaffing me."
+
+"I think not, sir," remarked Mrs. Miller very gently.
+
+"Do, then, let me give you a row," he said to the young girl.
+
+"It's quite lovely, the way you say that!" cried Daisy.
+
+"It will be still more lovely to do it."
+
+"Yes, it would be lovely!" said Daisy. But she made no movement to
+accompany him; she only stood there laughing.
+
+"I should think you had better find out what time it is," interposed her
+mother.
+
+"It is eleven o'clock, madam," said a voice, with a foreign accent, out
+of the neighboring darkness; and Winterbourne, turning, perceived the
+florid personage who was in attendance upon the two ladies. He had
+apparently just approached.
+
+"Oh, Eugenio," said Daisy, "I am going out in a boat!"
+
+Eugenio bowed. "At eleven o'clock, mademoiselle?"
+
+"I am going with Mr. Winterbourne--this very minute."
+
+"Do tell her she can't," said Mrs. Miller to the courier.
+
+"I think you had better not go out in a boat, mademoiselle," Eugenio
+declared.
+
+Winterbourne wished to Heaven this pretty girl were not so familiar with
+her courier; but he said nothing.
+
+"I suppose you don't think it's proper!" Daisy exclaimed. "Eugenio
+doesn't think anything's proper."
+
+"I am at your service," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Does mademoiselle propose to go alone?" asked Eugenio of Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Oh, no; with this gentleman!" answered Daisy's mamma.
+
+The courier looked for a moment at Winterbourne--the latter thought he
+was smiling--and then, solemnly, with a bow, "As mademoiselle pleases!"
+he said.
+
+"Oh, I hoped you would make a fuss!" said Daisy. "I don't care to go
+now."
+
+"I myself shall make a fuss if you don't go," said Winterbourne.
+
+"That's all I want--a little fuss!" And the young girl began to laugh
+again.
+
+"Mr. Randolph has gone to bed!" the courier announced frigidly.
+
+"Oh, Daisy; now we can go!" said Mrs. Miller.
+
+Daisy turned away from Winterbourne, looking at him, smiling and fanning
+herself. "Good night," she said; "I hope you are disappointed, or
+disgusted, or something!"
+
+He looked at her, taking the hand she offered him. "I am puzzled," he
+answered.
+
+"Well, I hope it won't keep you awake!" she said very smartly; and,
+under the escort of the privileged Eugenio, the two ladies passed toward
+the house.
+
+Winterbourne stood looking after them; he was indeed puzzled. He
+lingered beside the lake for a quarter of an hour, turning over the
+mystery of the young girl's sudden familiarities and caprices. But
+the only very definite conclusion he came to was that he should enjoy
+deucedly "going off" with her somewhere.
+
+Two days afterward he went off with her to the Castle of Chillon. He
+waited for her in the large hall of the hotel, where the couriers, the
+servants, the foreign tourists, were lounging about and staring. It was
+not the place he should have chosen, but she had appointed it. She came
+tripping downstairs, buttoning her long gloves, squeezing her folded
+parasol against her pretty figure, dressed in the perfection of a
+soberly elegant traveling costume. Winterbourne was a man of imagination
+and, as our ancestors used to say, sensibility; as he looked at her
+dress and, on the great staircase, her little rapid, confiding step, he
+felt as if there were something romantic going forward. He could have
+believed he was going to elope with her. He passed out with her among
+all the idle people that were assembled there; they were all looking
+at her very hard; she had begun to chatter as soon as she joined him.
+Winterbourne's preference had been that they should be conveyed to
+Chillon in a carriage; but she expressed a lively wish to go in the
+little steamer; she declared that she had a passion for steamboats.
+There was always such a lovely breeze upon the water, and you saw such
+lots of people. The sail was not long, but Winterbourne's companion
+found time to say a great many things. To the young man himself their
+little excursion was so much of an escapade--an adventure--that, even
+allowing for her habitual sense of freedom, he had some expectation of
+seeing her regard it in the same way. But it must be confessed that,
+in this particular, he was disappointed. Daisy Miller was extremely
+animated, she was in charming spirits; but she was apparently not at all
+excited; she was not fluttered; she avoided neither his eyes nor those
+of anyone else; she blushed neither when she looked at him nor when she
+felt that people were looking at her. People continued to look at her
+a great deal, and Winterbourne took much satisfaction in his pretty
+companion's distinguished air. He had been a little afraid that she
+would talk loud, laugh overmuch, and even, perhaps, desire to move about
+the boat a good deal. But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling,
+with his eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place, she
+delivered herself of a great number of original reflections. It was the
+most charming garrulity he had ever heard. He had assented to the idea
+that she was "common"; but was she so, after all, or was he simply
+getting used to her commonness? Her conversation was chiefly of what
+metaphysicians term the objective cast, but every now and then it took a
+subjective turn.
+
+"What on EARTH are you so grave about?" she suddenly demanded, fixing
+her agreeable eyes upon Winterbourne's.
+
+"Am I grave?" he asked. "I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear."
+
+"You look as if you were taking me to a funeral. If that's a grin, your
+ears are very near together."
+
+"Should you like me to dance a hornpipe on the deck?"
+
+"Pray do, and I'll carry round your hat. It will pay the expenses of our
+journey."
+
+"I never was better pleased in my life," murmured Winterbourne.
+
+She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh. "I like
+to make you say those things! You're a queer mixture!"
+
+In the castle, after they had landed, the subjective element decidedly
+prevailed. Daisy tripped about the vaulted chambers, rustled her skirts
+in the corkscrew staircases, flirted back with a pretty little cry and
+a shudder from the edge of the oubliettes, and turned a singularly
+well-shaped ear to everything that Winterbourne told her about the
+place. But he saw that she cared very little for feudal antiquities and
+that the dusky traditions of Chillon made but a slight impression upon
+her. They had the good fortune to have been able to walk about without
+other companionship than that of the custodian; and Winterbourne
+arranged with this functionary that they should not be hurried--that
+they should linger and pause wherever they chose. The custodian
+interpreted the bargain generously--Winterbourne, on his side, had been
+generous--and ended by leaving them quite to themselves. Miss Miller's
+observations were not remarkable for logical consistency; for anything
+she wanted to say she was sure to find a pretext. She found a great many
+pretexts in the rugged embrasures of Chillon for asking Winterbourne
+sudden questions about himself--his family, his previous history, his
+tastes, his habits, his intentions--and for supplying information upon
+corresponding points in her own personality. Of her own tastes, habits,
+and intentions Miss Miller was prepared to give the most definite, and
+indeed the most favorable account.
+
+"Well, I hope you know enough!" she said to her companion, after he had
+told her the history of the unhappy Bonivard. "I never saw a man that
+knew so much!" The history of Bonivard had evidently, as they say, gone
+into one ear and out of the other. But Daisy went on to say that she
+wished Winterbourne would travel with them and "go round" with them;
+they might know something, in that case. "Don't you want to come
+and teach Randolph?" she asked. Winterbourne said that nothing
+could possibly please him so much, but that he had unfortunately other
+occupations. "Other occupations? I don't believe it!" said Miss Daisy.
+"What do you mean? You are not in business." The young man admitted that
+he was not in business; but he had engagements which, even within a day
+or two, would force him to go back to Geneva. "Oh, bother!" she said; "I
+don't believe it!" and she began to talk about something else. But a few
+moments later, when he was pointing out to her the pretty design of an
+antique fireplace, she broke out irrelevantly, "You don't mean to say
+you are going back to Geneva?"
+
+"It is a melancholy fact that I shall have to return to Geneva
+tomorrow."
+
+"Well, Mr. Winterbourne," said Daisy, "I think you're horrid!"
+
+"Oh, don't say such dreadful things!" said Winterbourne--"just at the
+last!"
+
+"The last!" cried the young girl; "I call it the first. I have half a
+mind to leave you here and go straight back to the hotel alone." And
+for the next ten minutes she did nothing but call him horrid. Poor
+Winterbourne was fairly bewildered; no young lady had as yet done him
+the honor to be so agitated by the announcement of his movements. His
+companion, after this, ceased to pay any attention to the curiosities of
+Chillon or the beauties of the lake; she opened fire upon the mysterious
+charmer in Geneva whom she appeared to have instantly taken it for
+granted that he was hurrying back to see. How did Miss Daisy Miller
+know that there was a charmer in Geneva? Winterbourne, who denied the
+existence of such a person, was quite unable to discover, and he was
+divided between amazement at the rapidity of her induction and amusement
+at the frankness of her persiflage. She seemed to him, in all this, an
+extraordinary mixture of innocence and crudity. "Does she never allow
+you more than three days at a time?" asked Daisy ironically. "Doesn't
+she give you a vacation in summer? There's no one so hard worked but
+they can get leave to go off somewhere at this season. I suppose, if you
+stay another day, she'll come after you in the boat. Do wait over
+till Friday, and I will go down to the landing to see her arrive!"
+Winterbourne began to think he had been wrong to feel disappointed in
+the temper in which the young lady had embarked. If he had missed the
+personal accent, the personal accent was now making its appearance.
+It sounded very distinctly, at last, in her telling him she would stop
+"teasing" him if he would promise her solemnly to come down to Rome in
+the winter.
+
+"That's not a difficult promise to make," said Winterbourne. "My aunt
+has taken an apartment in Rome for the winter and has already asked me
+to come and see her."
+
+"I don't want you to come for your aunt," said Daisy; "I want you to
+come for me." And this was the only allusion that the young man was ever
+to hear her make to his invidious kinswoman. He declared that, at
+any rate, he would certainly come. After this Daisy stopped teasing.
+Winterbourne took a carriage, and they drove back to Vevey in the dusk;
+the young girl was very quiet.
+
+In the evening Winterbourne mentioned to Mrs. Costello that he had spent
+the afternoon at Chillon with Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"The Americans--of the courier?" asked this lady.
+
+"Ah, happily," said Winterbourne, "the courier stayed at home."
+
+"She went with you all alone?"
+
+"All alone."
+
+Mrs. Costello sniffed a little at her smelling bottle. "And that," she
+exclaimed, "is the young person whom you wanted me to know!"
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+Winterbourne, who had returned to Geneva the day after his excursion
+to Chillon, went to Rome toward the end of January. His aunt had been
+established there for several weeks, and he had received a couple of
+letters from her. "Those people you were so devoted to last summer at
+Vevey have turned up here, courier and all," she wrote. "They seem to
+have made several acquaintances, but the courier continues to be the
+most intime. The young lady, however, is also very intimate with some
+third-rate Italians, with whom she rackets about in a way that makes
+much talk. Bring me that pretty novel of Cherbuliez's--Paule Mere--and
+don't come later than the 23rd."
+
+In the natural course of events, Winterbourne, on arriving in Rome,
+would presently have ascertained Mrs. Miller's address at the American
+banker's and have gone to pay his compliments to Miss Daisy. "After what
+happened at Vevey, I think I may certainly call upon them," he said to
+Mrs. Costello.
+
+"If, after what happens--at Vevey and everywhere--you desire to keep
+up the acquaintance, you are very welcome. Of course a man may know
+everyone. Men are welcome to the privilege!"
+
+"Pray what is it that happens--here, for instance?" Winterbourne
+demanded.
+
+"The girl goes about alone with her foreigners. As to what happens
+further, you must apply elsewhere for information. She has picked up
+half a dozen of the regular Roman fortune hunters, and she takes them
+about to people's houses. When she comes to a party she brings with her
+a gentleman with a good deal of manner and a wonderful mustache."
+
+"And where is the mother?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea. They are very dreadful people."
+
+Winterbourne meditated a moment. "They are very ignorant--very innocent
+only. Depend upon it they are not bad."
+
+"They are hopelessly vulgar," said Mrs. Costello. "Whether or no being
+hopelessly vulgar is being 'bad' is a question for the metaphysicians.
+They are bad enough to dislike, at any rate; and for this short life
+that is quite enough."
+
+The news that Daisy Miller was surrounded by half a dozen wonderful
+mustaches checked Winterbourne's impulse to go straightway to see her.
+He had, perhaps, not definitely flattered himself that he had made an
+ineffaceable impression upon her heart, but he was annoyed at hearing
+of a state of affairs so little in harmony with an image that had lately
+flitted in and out of his own meditations; the image of a very pretty
+girl looking out of an old Roman window and asking herself urgently
+when Mr. Winterbourne would arrive. If, however, he determined to wait a
+little before reminding Miss Miller of his claims to her consideration,
+he went very soon to call upon two or three other friends. One of these
+friends was an American lady who had spent several winters at Geneva,
+where she had placed her children at school. She was a very accomplished
+woman, and she lived in the Via Gregoriana. Winterbourne found her in a
+little crimson drawing room on a third floor; the room was filled with
+southern sunshine. He had not been there ten minutes when the servant
+came in, announcing "Madame Mila!" This announcement was presently
+followed by the entrance of little Randolph Miller, who stopped in the
+middle of the room and stood staring at Winterbourne. An instant later
+his pretty sister crossed the threshold; and then, after a considerable
+interval, Mrs. Miller slowly advanced.
+
+"I know you!" said Randolph.
+
+"I'm sure you know a great many things," exclaimed Winterbourne, taking
+him by the hand. "How is your education coming on?"
+
+Daisy was exchanging greetings very prettily with her hostess, but when
+she heard Winterbourne's voice she quickly turned her head. "Well, I
+declare!" she said.
+
+"I told you I should come, you know," Winterbourne rejoined, smiling.
+
+"Well, I didn't believe it," said Miss Daisy.
+
+"I am much obliged to you," laughed the young man.
+
+"You might have come to see me!" said Daisy.
+
+"I arrived only yesterday."
+
+"I don't believe that!" the young girl declared.
+
+Winterbourne turned with a protesting smile to her mother, but this lady
+evaded his glance, and, seating herself, fixed her eyes upon her son.
+"We've got a bigger place than this," said Randolph. "It's all gold on
+the walls."
+
+Mrs. Miller turned uneasily in her chair. "I told you if I were to bring
+you, you would say something!" she murmured.
+
+"I told YOU!" Randolph exclaimed. "I tell YOU, sir!" he added jocosely,
+giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee. "It IS bigger, too!"
+
+Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess;
+Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother. "I
+hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey," he said.
+
+Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him--at his chin. "Not very well,
+sir," she answered.
+
+"She's got the dyspepsia," said Randolph. "I've got it too. Father's got
+it. I've got it most!"
+
+This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller, seemed to
+relieve her. "I suffer from the liver," she said. "I think it's this
+climate; it's less bracing than Schenectady, especially in the winter
+season. I don't know whether you know we reside at Schenectady. I was
+saying to Daisy that I certainly hadn't found any one like Dr. Davis,
+and I didn't believe I should. Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they
+think everything of him. He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing
+he wouldn't do for me. He said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia,
+but he was bound to cure it. I'm sure there was nothing he wouldn't
+try. He was just going to try something new when we came off. Mr. Miller
+wanted Daisy to see Europe for herself. But I wrote to Mr. Miller that
+it seems as if I couldn't get on without Dr. Davis. At Schenectady he
+stands at the very top; and there's a great deal of sickness there, too.
+It affects my sleep."
+
+Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis's
+patient, during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own
+companion. The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with
+Rome. "Well, I must say I am disappointed," she answered. "We had heard
+so much about it; I suppose we had heard too much. But we couldn't help
+that. We had been led to expect something different."
+
+"Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it," said
+Winterbourne.
+
+"I hate it worse and worse every day!" cried Randolph.
+
+"You are like the infant Hannibal," said Winterbourne.
+
+"No, I ain't!" Randolph declared at a venture.
+
+"You are not much like an infant," said his mother. "But we have seen
+places," she resumed, "that I should put a long way before Rome." And in
+reply to Winterbourne's interrogation, "There's Zurich," she concluded,
+"I think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn't heard half so much about it."
+
+"The best place we've seen is the City of Richmond!" said Randolph.
+
+"He means the ship," his mother explained. "We crossed in that ship.
+Randolph had a good time on the City of Richmond."
+
+"It's the best place I've seen," the child repeated. "Only it was turned
+the wrong way."
+
+"Well, we've got to turn the right way some time," said Mrs. Miller with
+a little laugh. Winterbourne expressed the hope that her daughter at
+least found some gratification in Rome, and she declared that Daisy
+was quite carried away. "It's on account of the society--the society's
+splendid. She goes round everywhere; she has made a great number of
+acquaintances. Of course she goes round more than I do. I must say they
+have been very sociable; they have taken her right in. And then she
+knows a great many gentlemen. Oh, she thinks there's nothing like Rome.
+Of course, it's a great deal pleasanter for a young lady if she knows
+plenty of gentlemen."
+
+By this time Daisy had turned her attention again to Winterbourne. "I've
+been telling Mrs. Walker how mean you were!" the young girl announced.
+
+"And what is the evidence you have offered?" asked Winterbourne, rather
+annoyed at Miss Miller's want of appreciation of the zeal of an admirer
+who on his way down to Rome had stopped neither at Bologna nor at
+Florence, simply because of a certain sentimental impatience. He
+remembered that a cynical compatriot had once told him that American
+women--the pretty ones, and this gave a largeness to the axiom--were at
+once the most exacting in the world and the least endowed with a sense
+of indebtedness.
+
+"Why, you were awfully mean at Vevey," said Daisy. "You wouldn't do
+anything. You wouldn't stay there when I asked you."
+
+"My dearest young lady," cried Winterbourne, with eloquence, "have I
+come all the way to Rome to encounter your reproaches?"
+
+"Just hear him say that!" said Daisy to her hostess, giving a twist to a
+bow on this lady's dress. "Did you ever hear anything so quaint?"
+
+"So quaint, my dear?" murmured Mrs. Walker in the tone of a partisan of
+Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, I don't know," said Daisy, fingering Mrs. Walker's ribbons. "Mrs.
+Walker, I want to tell you something."
+
+"Mother-r," interposed Randolph, with his rough ends to his words, "I
+tell you you've got to go. Eugenio'll raise--something!"
+
+"I'm not afraid of Eugenio," said Daisy with a toss of her head. "Look
+here, Mrs. Walker," she went on, "you know I'm coming to your party."
+
+"I am delighted to hear it."
+
+"I've got a lovely dress!"
+
+"I am very sure of that."
+
+"But I want to ask a favor--permission to bring a friend."
+
+"I shall be happy to see any of your friends," said Mrs. Walker, turning
+with a smile to Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Oh, they are not my friends," answered Daisy's mamma, smiling shyly in
+her own fashion. "I never spoke to them."
+
+"It's an intimate friend of mine--Mr. Giovanelli," said Daisy without
+a tremor in her clear little voice or a shadow on her brilliant little
+face.
+
+Mrs. Walker was silent a moment; she gave a rapid glance at
+Winterbourne. "I shall be glad to see Mr. Giovanelli," she then said.
+
+"He's an Italian," Daisy pursued with the prettiest serenity. "He's a
+great friend of mine; he's the handsomest man in the world--except Mr.
+Winterbourne! He knows plenty of Italians, but he wants to know some
+Americans. He thinks ever so much of Americans. He's tremendously
+clever. He's perfectly lovely!"
+
+It was settled that this brilliant personage should be brought to Mrs.
+Walker's party, and then Mrs. Miller prepared to take her leave. "I
+guess we'll go back to the hotel," she said.
+
+"You may go back to the hotel, Mother, but I'm going to take a walk,"
+said Daisy.
+
+"She's going to walk with Mr. Giovanelli," Randolph proclaimed.
+
+"I am going to the Pincio," said Daisy, smiling.
+
+"Alone, my dear--at this hour?" Mrs. Walker asked. The afternoon was
+drawing to a close--it was the hour for the throng of carriages and of
+contemplative pedestrians. "I don't think it's safe, my dear," said Mrs.
+Walker.
+
+"Neither do I," subjoined Mrs. Miller. "You'll get the fever, as sure as
+you live. Remember what Dr. Davis told you!"
+
+"Give her some medicine before she goes," said Randolph.
+
+The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty
+teeth, bent over and kissed her hostess. "Mrs. Walker, you are too
+perfect," she said. "I'm not going alone; I am going to meet a friend."
+
+"Your friend won't keep you from getting the fever," Mrs. Miller
+observed.
+
+"Is it Mr. Giovanelli?" asked the hostess.
+
+Winterbourne was watching the young girl; at this question his attention
+quickened. She stood there, smiling and smoothing her bonnet ribbons;
+she glanced at Winterbourne. Then, while she glanced and smiled, she
+answered, without a shade of hesitation, "Mr. Giovanelli--the beautiful
+Giovanelli."
+
+"My dear young friend," said Mrs. Walker, taking her hand pleadingly,
+"don't walk off to the Pincio at this hour to meet a beautiful Italian."
+
+"Well, he speaks English," said Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Gracious me!" Daisy exclaimed, "I don't to do anything improper.
+There's an easy way to settle it." She continued to glance at
+Winterbourne. "The Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr.
+Winterbourne were as polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with
+me!"
+
+Winterbourne's politeness hastened to affirm itself, and the young girl
+gave him gracious leave to accompany her. They passed downstairs
+before her mother, and at the door Winterbourne perceived Mrs. Miller's
+carriage drawn up, with the ornamental courier whose acquaintance he had
+made at Vevey seated within. "Goodbye, Eugenio!" cried Daisy; "I'm going
+to take a walk." The distance from the Via Gregoriana to the beautiful
+garden at the other end of the Pincian Hill is, in fact, rapidly
+traversed. As the day was splendid, however, and the concourse of
+vehicles, walkers, and loungers numerous, the young Americans found
+their progress much delayed. This fact was highly agreeable to
+Winterbourne, in spite of his consciousness of his singular situation.
+The slow-moving, idly gazing Roman crowd bestowed much attention upon
+the extremely pretty young foreign lady who was passing through it upon
+his arm; and he wondered what on earth had been in Daisy's mind when
+she proposed to expose herself, unattended, to its appreciation. His own
+mission, to her sense, apparently, was to consign her to the hands
+of Mr. Giovanelli; but Winterbourne, at once annoyed and gratified,
+resolved that he would do no such thing.
+
+"Why haven't you been to see me?" asked Daisy. "You can't get out of
+that."
+
+"I have had the honor of telling you that I have only just stepped out
+of the train."
+
+"You must have stayed in the train a good while after it stopped!" cried
+the young girl with her little laugh. "I suppose you were asleep. You
+have had time to go to see Mrs. Walker."
+
+"I knew Mrs. Walker--" Winterbourne began to explain.
+
+"I know where you knew her. You knew her at Geneva. She told me so.
+Well, you knew me at Vevey. That's just as good. So you ought to have
+come." She asked him no other question than this; she began to prattle
+about her own affairs. "We've got splendid rooms at the hotel; Eugenio
+says they're the best rooms in Rome. We are going to stay all winter,
+if we don't die of the fever; and I guess we'll stay then. It's a great
+deal nicer than I thought; I thought it would be fearfully quiet; I was
+sure it would be awfully poky. I was sure we should be going round
+all the time with one of those dreadful old men that explain about the
+pictures and things. But we only had about a week of that, and now
+I'm enjoying myself. I know ever so many people, and they are all so
+charming. The society's extremely select. There are all kinds--English,
+and Germans, and Italians. I think I like the English best. I like their
+style of conversation. But there are some lovely Americans. I never saw
+anything so hospitable. There's something or other every day. There's
+not much dancing; but I must say I never thought dancing was everything.
+I was always fond of conversation. I guess I shall have plenty at Mrs.
+Walker's, her rooms are so small." When they had passed the gate of the
+Pincian Gardens, Miss Miller began to wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might
+be. "We had better go straight to that place in front," she said, "where
+you look at the view."
+
+"I certainly shall not help you to find him," Winterbourne declared.
+
+"Then I shall find him without you," cried Miss Daisy.
+
+"You certainly won't leave me!" cried Winterbourne.
+
+She burst into her little laugh. "Are you afraid you'll get lost--or run
+over? But there's Giovanelli, leaning against that tree. He's staring at
+the women in the carriages: did you ever see anything so cool?"
+
+Winterbourne perceived at some distance a little man standing with
+folded arms nursing his cane. He had a handsome face, an artfully poised
+hat, a glass in one eye, and a nosegay in his buttonhole. Winterbourne
+looked at him a moment and then said, "Do you mean to speak to that
+man?"
+
+"Do I mean to speak to him? Why, you don't suppose I mean to communicate
+by signs?"
+
+"Pray understand, then," said Winterbourne, "that I intend to remain
+with you."
+
+Daisy stopped and looked at him, without a sign of troubled
+consciousness in her face, with nothing but the presence of her charming
+eyes and her happy dimples. "Well, she's a cool one!" thought the young
+man.
+
+"I don't like the way you say that," said Daisy. "It's too imperious."
+
+"I beg your pardon if I say it wrong. The main point is to give you an
+idea of my meaning."
+
+The young girl looked at him more gravely, but with eyes that were
+prettier than ever. "I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me,
+or to interfere with anything I do."
+
+"I think you have made a mistake," said Winterbourne. "You should
+sometimes listen to a gentleman--the right one."
+
+Daisy began to laugh again. "I do nothing but listen to gentlemen!" she
+exclaimed. "Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?"
+
+The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two
+friends, and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity.
+He bowed to Winterbourne as well as to the latter's companion; he had
+a brilliant smile, an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a
+bad-looking fellow. But he nevertheless said to Daisy, "No, he's not the
+right one."
+
+Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions; she
+mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other. She strolled
+alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli, who spoke
+English very cleverly--Winterbourne afterward learned that he had
+practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses--addressed her
+a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely urbane, and the
+young American, who said nothing, reflected upon that profundity of
+Italian cleverness which enables people to appear more gracious in
+proportion as they are more acutely disappointed. Giovanelli, of course,
+had counted upon something more intimate; he had not bargained for
+a party of three. But he kept his temper in a manner which suggested
+far-stretching intentions. Winterbourne flattered himself that he had
+taken his measure. "He is not a gentleman," said the young American;
+"he is only a clever imitation of one. He is a music master, or a
+penny-a-liner, or a third-rate artist. D__n his good looks!" Mr.
+Giovanelli had certainly a very pretty face; but Winterbourne felt a
+superior indignation at his own lovely fellow countrywoman's not knowing
+the difference between a spurious gentleman and a real one. Giovanelli
+chattered and jested and made himself wonderfully agreeable. It was
+true that, if he was an imitation, the imitation was brilliant.
+"Nevertheless," Winterbourne said to himself, "a nice girl ought to
+know!" And then he came back to the question whether this was, in fact,
+a nice girl. Would a nice girl, even allowing for her being a little
+American flirt, make a rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner?
+The rendezvous in this case, indeed, had been in broad daylight and in
+the most crowded corner of Rome, but was it not impossible to regard the
+choice of these circumstances as a proof of extreme cynicism? Singular
+though it may seem, Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl, in
+joining her amoroso, should not appear more impatient of his own
+company, and he was vexed because of his inclination. It was impossible
+to regard her as a perfectly well-conducted young lady; she was wanting
+in a certain indispensable delicacy. It would therefore simplify matters
+greatly to be able to treat her as the object of one of those sentiments
+which are called by romancers "lawless passions." That she should seem
+to wish to get rid of him would help him to think more lightly of her,
+and to be able to think more lightly of her would make her much less
+perplexing. But Daisy, on this occasion, continued to present herself as
+an inscrutable combination of audacity and innocence.
+
+She had been walking some quarter of an hour, attended by her two
+cavaliers, and responding in a tone of very childish gaiety, as it
+seemed to Winterbourne, to the pretty speeches of Mr. Giovanelli, when
+a carriage that had detached itself from the revolving train drew up
+beside the path. At the same moment Winterbourne perceived that his
+friend Mrs. Walker--the lady whose house he had lately left--was seated
+in the vehicle and was beckoning to him. Leaving Miss Miller's side,
+he hastened to obey her summons. Mrs. Walker was flushed; she wore an
+excited air. "It is really too dreadful," she said. "That girl must not
+do this sort of thing. She must not walk here with you two men. Fifty
+people have noticed her."
+
+Winterbourne raised his eyebrows. "I think it's a pity to make too much
+fuss about it."
+
+"It's a pity to let the girl ruin herself!"
+
+"She is very innocent," said Winterbourne.
+
+"She's very crazy!" cried Mrs. Walker. "Did you ever see anything so
+imbecile as her mother? After you had all left me just now, I could not
+sit still for thinking of it. It seemed too pitiful, not even to attempt
+to save her. I ordered the carriage and put on my bonnet, and came here
+as quickly as possible. Thank Heaven I have found you!"
+
+"What do you propose to do with us?" asked Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+"To ask her to get in, to drive her about here for half an hour, so that
+the world may see she is not running absolutely wild, and then to take
+her safely home."
+
+"I don't think it's a very happy thought," said Winterbourne; "but you
+can try."
+
+Mrs. Walker tried. The young man went in pursuit of Miss Miller, who
+had simply nodded and smiled at his interlocutor in the carriage and
+had gone her way with her companion. Daisy, on learning that Mrs. Walker
+wished to speak to her, retraced her steps with a perfect good grace and
+with Mr. Giovanelli at her side. She declared that she was delighted to
+have a chance to present this gentleman to Mrs. Walker. She immediately
+achieved the introduction, and declared that she had never in her life
+seen anything so lovely as Mrs. Walker's carriage rug.
+
+"I am glad you admire it," said this lady, smiling sweetly. "Will you
+get in and let me put it over you?"
+
+"Oh, no, thank you," said Daisy. "I shall admire it much more as I see
+you driving round with it."
+
+"Do get in and drive with me!" said Mrs. Walker.
+
+"That would be charming, but it's so enchanting just as I am!" and Daisy
+gave a brilliant glance at the gentlemen on either side of her.
+
+"It may be enchanting, dear child, but it is not the custom here," urged
+Mrs. Walker, leaning forward in her victoria, with her hands devoutly
+clasped.
+
+"Well, it ought to be, then!" said Daisy. "If I didn't walk I should
+expire."
+
+"You should walk with your mother, dear," cried the lady from Geneva,
+losing patience.
+
+"With my mother dear!" exclaimed the young girl. Winterbourne saw that
+she scented interference. "My mother never walked ten steps in her life.
+And then, you know," she added with a laugh, "I am more than five years
+old."
+
+"You are old enough to be more reasonable. You are old enough, dear Miss
+Miller, to be talked about."
+
+Daisy looked at Mrs. Walker, smiling intensely. "Talked about? What do
+you mean?"
+
+"Come into my carriage, and I will tell you."
+
+Daisy turned her quickened glance again from one of the gentlemen beside
+her to the other. Mr. Giovanelli was bowing to and fro, rubbing down
+his gloves and laughing very agreeably; Winterbourne thought it a most
+unpleasant scene. "I don't think I want to know what you mean," said
+Daisy presently. "I don't think I should like it."
+
+Winterbourne wished that Mrs. Walker would tuck in her carriage rug and
+drive away, but this lady did not enjoy being defied, as she afterward
+told him. "Should you prefer being thought a very reckless girl?" she
+demanded.
+
+"Gracious!" exclaimed Daisy. She looked again at Mr. Giovanelli, then
+she turned to Winterbourne. There was a little pink flush in her cheek;
+she was tremendously pretty. "Does Mr. Winterbourne think," she asked
+slowly, smiling, throwing back her head, and glancing at him from
+head to foot, "that, to save my reputation, I ought to get into the
+carriage?"
+
+Winterbourne colored; for an instant he hesitated greatly. It seemed so
+strange to hear her speak that way of her "reputation." But he himself,
+in fact, must speak in accordance with gallantry. The finest gallantry,
+here, was simply to tell her the truth; and the truth, for Winterbourne,
+as the few indications I have been able to give have made him known to
+the reader, was that Daisy Miller should take Mrs. Walker's advice. He
+looked at her exquisite prettiness, and then he said, very gently, "I
+think you should get into the carriage."
+
+Daisy gave a violent laugh. "I never heard anything so stiff! If this
+is improper, Mrs. Walker," she pursued, "then I am all improper, and you
+must give me up. Goodbye; I hope you'll have a lovely ride!" and, with
+Mr. Giovanelli, who made a triumphantly obsequious salute, she turned
+away.
+
+Mrs. Walker sat looking after her, and there were tears in Mrs. Walker's
+eyes. "Get in here, sir," she said to Winterbourne, indicating the place
+beside her. The young man answered that he felt bound to accompany Miss
+Miller, whereupon Mrs. Walker declared that if he refused her this
+favor she would never speak to him again. She was evidently in earnest.
+Winterbourne overtook Daisy and her companion, and, offering the young
+girl his hand, told her that Mrs. Walker had made an imperious claim
+upon his society. He expected that in answer she would say something
+rather free, something to commit herself still further to that
+"recklessness" from which Mrs. Walker had so charitably endeavored to
+dissuade her. But she only shook his hand, hardly looking at him, while
+Mr. Giovanelli bade him farewell with a too emphatic flourish of the
+hat.
+
+Winterbourne was not in the best possible humor as he took his seat in
+Mrs. Walker's victoria. "That was not clever of you," he said candidly,
+while the vehicle mingled again with the throng of carriages.
+
+"In such a case," his companion answered, "I don't wish to be clever; I
+wish to be EARNEST!"
+
+"Well, your earnestness has only offended her and put her off."
+
+"It has happened very well," said Mrs. Walker. "If she is so perfectly
+determined to compromise herself, the sooner one knows it the better;
+one can act accordingly."
+
+"I suspect she meant no harm," Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+"So I thought a month ago. But she has been going too far."
+
+"What has she been doing?"
+
+"Everything that is not done here. Flirting with any man she could pick
+up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening
+with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o'clock at night. Her
+mother goes away when visitors come."
+
+"But her brother," said Winterbourne, laughing, "sits up till midnight."
+
+"He must be edified by what he sees. I'm told that at their hotel
+everyone is talking about her, and that a smile goes round among all the
+servants when a gentleman comes and asks for Miss Miller."
+
+"The servants be hanged!" said Winterbourne angrily. "The poor girl's
+only fault," he presently added, "is that she is very uncultivated."
+
+"She is naturally indelicate," Mrs. Walker declared.
+
+"Take that example this morning. How long had you known her at Vevey?"
+
+"A couple of days."
+
+"Fancy, then, her making it a personal matter that you should have left
+the place!"
+
+Winterbourne was silent for some moments; then he said, "I suspect, Mrs.
+Walker, that you and I have lived too long at Geneva!" And he added a
+request that she should inform him with what particular design she had
+made him enter her carriage.
+
+"I wished to beg you to cease your relations with Miss Miller--not to
+flirt with her--to give her no further opportunity to expose herself--to
+let her alone, in short."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Winterbourne. "I like her extremely."
+
+"All the more reason that you shouldn't help her to make a scandal."
+
+"There shall be nothing scandalous in my attentions to her."
+
+"There certainly will be in the way she takes them. But I have said what
+I had on my conscience," Mrs. Walker pursued. "If you wish to rejoin the
+young lady I will put you down. Here, by the way, you have a chance."
+
+The carriage was traversing that part of the Pincian Garden that
+overhangs the wall of Rome and overlooks the beautiful Villa Borghese.
+It is bordered by a large parapet, near which there are several seats.
+One of the seats at a distance was occupied by a gentleman and a lady,
+toward whom Mrs. Walker gave a toss of her head. At the same moment
+these persons rose and walked toward the parapet. Winterbourne had asked
+the coachman to stop; he now descended from the carriage. His companion
+looked at him a moment in silence; then, while he raised his hat, she
+drove majestically away. Winterbourne stood there; he had turned his
+eyes toward Daisy and her cavalier. They evidently saw no one; they were
+too deeply occupied with each other. When they reached the low garden
+wall, they stood a moment looking off at the great flat-topped pine
+clusters of the Villa Borghese; then Giovanelli seated himself,
+familiarly, upon the broad ledge of the wall. The western sun in the
+opposite sky sent out a brilliant shaft through a couple of cloud bars,
+whereupon Daisy's companion took her parasol out of her hands and opened
+it. She came a little nearer, and he held the parasol over her; then,
+still holding it, he let it rest upon her shoulder, so that both of
+their heads were hidden from Winterbourne. This young man lingered a
+moment, then he began to walk. But he walked--not toward the couple with
+the parasol; toward the residence of his aunt, Mrs. Costello.
+
+He flattered himself on the following day that there was no smiling
+among the servants when he, at least, asked for Mrs. Miller at her
+hotel. This lady and her daughter, however, were not at home; and on
+the next day after, repeating his visit, Winterbourne again had the
+misfortune not to find them. Mrs. Walker's party took place on the
+evening of the third day, and, in spite of the frigidity of his last
+interview with the hostess, Winterbourne was among the guests. Mrs.
+Walker was one of those American ladies who, while residing abroad, make
+a point, in their own phrase, of studying European society, and she
+had on this occasion collected several specimens of her diversely born
+fellow mortals to serve, as it were, as textbooks. When Winterbourne
+arrived, Daisy Miller was not there, but in a few moments he saw her
+mother come in alone, very shyly and ruefully. Mrs. Miller's hair
+above her exposed-looking temples was more frizzled than ever. As she
+approached Mrs. Walker, Winterbourne also drew near.
+
+"You see, I've come all alone," said poor Mrs. Miller. "I'm so
+frightened; I don't know what to do. It's the first time I've ever been
+to a party alone, especially in this country. I wanted to bring Randolph
+or Eugenio, or someone, but Daisy just pushed me off by myself. I ain't
+used to going round alone."
+
+"And does not your daughter intend to favor us with her society?"
+demanded Mrs. Walker impressively.
+
+"Well, Daisy's all dressed," said Mrs. Miller with that accent of the
+dispassionate, if not of the philosophic, historian with which she
+always recorded the current incidents of her daughter's career. "She got
+dressed on purpose before dinner. But she's got a friend of hers there;
+that gentleman--the Italian--that she wanted to bring. They've got going
+at the piano; it seems as if they couldn't leave off. Mr. Giovanelli
+sings splendidly. But I guess they'll come before very long," concluded
+Mrs. Miller hopefully.
+
+"I'm sorry she should come in that way," said Mrs. Walker.
+
+"Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
+dinner if she was going to wait three hours," responded Daisy's mamma.
+"I didn't see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit
+round with Mr. Giovanelli."
+
+"This is most horrible!" said Mrs. Walker, turning away and addressing
+herself to Winterbourne. "Elle s'affiche. It's her revenge for my having
+ventured to remonstrate with her. When she comes, I shall not speak to
+her."
+
+Daisy came after eleven o'clock; but she was not, on such an occasion,
+a young lady to wait to be spoken to. She rustled forward in radiant
+loveliness, smiling and chattering, carrying a large bouquet, and
+attended by Mr. Giovanelli. Everyone stopped talking and turned and
+looked at her. She came straight to Mrs. Walker. "I'm afraid you thought
+I never was coming, so I sent mother off to tell you. I wanted to make
+Mr. Giovanelli practice some things before he came; you know he sings
+beautifully, and I want you to ask him to sing. This is Mr. Giovanelli;
+you know I introduced him to you; he's got the most lovely voice, and
+he knows the most charming set of songs. I made him go over them this
+evening on purpose; we had the greatest time at the hotel." Of all
+this Daisy delivered herself with the sweetest, brightest audibleness,
+looking now at her hostess and now round the room, while she gave a
+series of little pats, round her shoulders, to the edges of her dress.
+"Is there anyone I know?" she asked.
+
+"I think every one knows you!" said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she gave
+a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore himself
+gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth; he curled his
+mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all the proper functions
+of a handsome Italian at an evening party. He sang very prettily half
+a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward declared that she had been
+quite unable to find out who asked him. It was apparently not Daisy who
+had given him his orders. Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and
+though she had publicly, as it were, professed a high admiration for his
+singing, talked, not inaudibly, while it was going on.
+
+"It's a pity these rooms are so small; we can't dance," she said to
+Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
+
+"I am not sorry we can't dance," Winterbourne answered; "I don't dance."
+
+"Of course you don't dance; you're too stiff," said Miss Daisy. "I hope
+you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!"
+
+"No. I didn't enjoy it; I preferred walking with you."
+
+"We paired off: that was much better," said Daisy. "But did you ever
+hear anything so cool as Mrs. Walker's wanting me to get into her
+carriage and drop poor Mr. Giovanelli, and under the pretext that it was
+proper? People have different ideas! It would have been most unkind; he
+had been talking about that walk for ten days."
+
+"He should not have talked about it at all," said Winterbourne; "he
+would never have proposed to a young lady of this country to walk about
+the streets with him."
+
+"About the streets?" cried Daisy with her pretty stare. "Where, then,
+would he have proposed to her to walk? The Pincio is not the streets,
+either; and I, thank goodness, am not a young lady of this country. The
+young ladies of this country have a dreadfully poky time of it, so far
+as I can learn; I don't see why I should change my habits for THEM."
+
+"I am afraid your habits are those of a flirt," said Winterbourne
+gravely.
+
+"Of course they are," she cried, giving him her little smiling stare
+again. "I'm a fearful, frightful flirt! Did you ever hear of a nice girl
+that was not? But I suppose you will tell me now that I am not a nice
+girl."
+
+"You're a very nice girl; but I wish you would flirt with me, and me
+only," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Ah! thank you--thank you very much; you are the last man I should think
+of flirting with. As I have had the pleasure of informing you, you are
+too stiff."
+
+"You say that too often," said Winterbourne.
+
+Daisy gave a delighted laugh. "If I could have the sweet hope of making
+you angry, I should say it again."
+
+"Don't do that; when I am angry I'm stiffer than ever. But if you won't
+flirt with me, do cease, at least, to flirt with your friend at the
+piano; they don't understand that sort of thing here."
+
+"I thought they understood nothing else!" exclaimed Daisy.
+
+"Not in young unmarried women."
+
+"It seems to me much more proper in young unmarried women than in old
+married ones," Daisy declared.
+
+"Well," said Winterbourne, "when you deal with natives you must go
+by the custom of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom;
+it doesn't exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr.
+Giovanelli, and without your mother--"
+
+"Gracious! poor Mother!" interposed Daisy.
+
+"Though you may be flirting, Mr. Giovanelli is not; he means something
+else."
+
+"He isn't preaching, at any rate," said Daisy with vivacity. "And if you
+want very much to know, we are neither of us flirting; we are too good
+friends for that: we are very intimate friends."
+
+"Ah!" rejoined Winterbourne, "if you are in love with each other, it is
+another affair."
+
+She had allowed him up to this point to talk so frankly that he had no
+expectation of shocking her by this ejaculation; but she immediately got
+up, blushing visibly, and leaving him to exclaim mentally that
+little American flirts were the queerest creatures in the world. "Mr.
+Giovanelli, at least," she said, giving her interlocutor a single
+glance, "never says such very disagreeable things to me."
+
+Winterbourne was bewildered; he stood, staring. Mr. Giovanelli had
+finished singing. He left the piano and came over to Daisy. "Won't you
+come into the other room and have some tea?" he asked, bending before
+her with his ornamental smile.
+
+Daisy turned to Winterbourne, beginning to smile again. He was still
+more perplexed, for this inconsequent smile made nothing clear, though
+it seemed to prove, indeed, that she had a sweetness and softness that
+reverted instinctively to the pardon of offenses. "It has never occurred
+to Mr. Winterbourne to offer me any tea," she said with her little
+tormenting manner.
+
+"I have offered you advice," Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+"I prefer weak tea!" cried Daisy, and she went off with the brilliant
+Giovanelli. She sat with him in the adjoining room, in the embrasure
+of the window, for the rest of the evening. There was an interesting
+performance at the piano, but neither of these young people gave heed
+to it. When Daisy came to take leave of Mrs. Walker, this lady
+conscientiously repaired the weakness of which she had been guilty at
+the moment of the young girl's arrival. She turned her back straight
+upon Miss Miller and left her to depart with what grace she might.
+Winterbourne was standing near the door; he saw it all. Daisy turned
+very pale and looked at her mother, but Mrs. Miller was humbly
+unconscious of any violation of the usual social forms. She appeared,
+indeed, to have felt an incongruous impulse to draw attention to her own
+striking observance of them. "Good night, Mrs. Walker," she said; "we've
+had a beautiful evening. You see, if I let Daisy come to parties without
+me, I don't want her to go away without me." Daisy turned away, looking
+with a pale, grave face at the circle near the door; Winterbourne saw
+that, for the first moment, she was too much shocked and puzzled even
+for indignation. He on his side was greatly touched.
+
+"That was very cruel," he said to Mrs. Walker.
+
+"She never enters my drawing room again!" replied his hostess.
+
+Since Winterbourne was not to meet her in Mrs. Walker's drawing room, he
+went as often as possible to Mrs. Miller's hotel. The ladies were rarely
+at home, but when he found them, the devoted Giovanelli was always
+present. Very often the brilliant little Roman was in the drawing room
+with Daisy alone, Mrs. Miller being apparently constantly of the opinion
+that discretion is the better part of surveillance. Winterbourne
+noted, at first with surprise, that Daisy on these occasions was never
+embarrassed or annoyed by his own entrance; but he very presently began
+to feel that she had no more surprises for him; the unexpected in her
+behavior was the only thing to expect. She showed no displeasure at
+her tete-a-tete with Giovanelli being interrupted; she could chatter as
+freshly and freely with two gentlemen as with one; there was always,
+in her conversation, the same odd mixture of audacity and puerility.
+Winterbourne remarked to himself that if she was seriously interested in
+Giovanelli, it was very singular that she should not take more trouble
+to preserve the sanctity of their interviews; and he liked her the more
+for her innocent-looking indifference and her apparently inexhaustible
+good humor. He could hardly have said why, but she seemed to him a girl
+who would never be jealous. At the risk of exciting a somewhat derisive
+smile on the reader's part, I may affirm that with regard to the women
+who had hitherto interested him, it very often seemed to Winterbourne
+among the possibilities that, given certain contingencies, he should be
+afraid--literally afraid--of these ladies; he had a pleasant sense that
+he should never be afraid of Daisy Miller. It must be added that this
+sentiment was not altogether flattering to Daisy; it was part of his
+conviction, or rather of his apprehension, that she would prove a very
+light young person.
+
+But she was evidently very much interested in Giovanelli. She looked at
+him whenever he spoke; she was perpetually telling him to do this and
+to do that; she was constantly "chaffing" and abusing him. She appeared
+completely to have forgotten that Winterbourne had said anything to
+displease her at Mrs. Walker's little party. One Sunday afternoon,
+having gone to St. Peter's with his aunt, Winterbourne perceived
+Daisy strolling about the great church in company with the inevitable
+Giovanelli. Presently he pointed out the young girl and her cavalier to
+Mrs. Costello. This lady looked at them a moment through her eyeglass,
+and then she said:
+
+"That's what makes you so pensive in these days, eh?"
+
+"I had not the least idea I was pensive," said the young man.
+
+"You are very much preoccupied; you are thinking of something."
+
+"And what is it," he asked, "that you accuse me of thinking of?"
+
+"Of that young lady's--Miss Baker's, Miss Chandler's--what's her
+name?--Miss Miller's intrigue with that little barber's block."
+
+"Do you call it an intrigue," Winterbourne asked--"an affair that goes
+on with such peculiar publicity?"
+
+"That's their folly," said Mrs. Costello; "it's not their merit."
+
+"No," rejoined Winterbourne, with something of that pensiveness to which
+his aunt had alluded. "I don't believe that there is anything to be
+called an intrigue."
+
+"I have heard a dozen people speak of it; they say she is quite carried
+away by him."
+
+"They are certainly very intimate," said Winterbourne.
+
+Mrs. Costello inspected the young couple again with her optical
+instrument. "He is very handsome. One easily sees how it is. She thinks
+him the most elegant man in the world, the finest gentleman. She has
+never seen anything like him; he is better, even, than the courier.
+It was the courier probably who introduced him; and if he succeeds in
+marrying the young lady, the courier will come in for a magnificent
+commission."
+
+"I don't believe she thinks of marrying him," said Winterbourne, "and I
+don't believe he hopes to marry her."
+
+"You may be very sure she thinks of nothing. She goes on from day to
+day, from hour to hour, as they did in the Golden Age. I can imagine
+nothing more vulgar. And at the same time," added Mrs. Costello, "depend
+upon it that she may tell you any moment that she is 'engaged.'"
+
+"I think that is more than Giovanelli expects," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Who is Giovanelli?"
+
+"The little Italian. I have asked questions about him and learned
+something. He is apparently a perfectly respectable little man. I
+believe he is, in a small way, a cavaliere avvocato. But he doesn't
+move in what are called the first circles. I think it is really not
+absolutely impossible that the courier introduced him. He is evidently
+immensely charmed with Miss Miller. If she thinks him the finest
+gentleman in the world, he, on his side, has never found himself in
+personal contact with such splendor, such opulence, such expensiveness
+as this young lady's. And then she must seem to him wonderfully pretty
+and interesting. I rather doubt that he dreams of marrying her. That
+must appear to him too impossible a piece of luck. He has nothing but
+his handsome face to offer, and there is a substantial Mr. Miller in
+that mysterious land of dollars. Giovanelli knows that he hasn't a title
+to offer. If he were only a count or a marchese! He must wonder at his
+luck, at the way they have taken him up."
+
+"He accounts for it by his handsome face and thinks Miss Miller a young
+lady qui se passe ses fantaisies!" said Mrs. Costello.
+
+"It is very true," Winterbourne pursued, "that Daisy and her mamma have
+not yet risen to that stage of--what shall I call it?--of culture at
+which the idea of catching a count or a marchese begins. I believe that
+they are intellectually incapable of that conception."
+
+"Ah! but the avvocato can't believe it," said Mrs. Costello.
+
+Of the observation excited by Daisy's "intrigue," Winterbourne gathered
+that day at St. Peter's sufficient evidence. A dozen of the American
+colonists in Rome came to talk with Mrs. Costello, who sat on a little
+portable stool at the base of one of the great pilasters. The vesper
+service was going forward in splendid chants and organ tones in the
+adjacent choir, and meanwhile, between Mrs. Costello and her friends,
+there was a great deal said about poor little Miss Miller's going really
+"too far." Winterbourne was not pleased with what he heard, but when,
+coming out upon the great steps of the church, he saw Daisy, who had
+emerged before him, get into an open cab with her accomplice and roll
+away through the cynical streets of Rome, he could not deny to himself
+that she was going very far indeed. He felt very sorry for her--not
+exactly that he believed that she had completely lost her head, but
+because it was painful to hear so much that was pretty, and undefended,
+and natural assigned to a vulgar place among the categories of disorder.
+He made an attempt after this to give a hint to Mrs. Miller. He met one
+day in the Corso a friend, a tourist like himself, who had just come
+out of the Doria Palace, where he had been walking through the beautiful
+gallery. His friend talked for a moment about the superb portrait
+of Innocent X by Velasquez which hangs in one of the cabinets of the
+palace, and then said, "And in the same cabinet, by the way, I had the
+pleasure of contemplating a picture of a different kind--that pretty
+American girl whom you pointed out to me last week." In answer to
+Winterbourne's inquiries, his friend narrated that the pretty American
+girl--prettier than ever--was seated with a companion in the secluded
+nook in which the great papal portrait was enshrined.
+
+"Who was her companion?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"A little Italian with a bouquet in his buttonhole. The girl is
+delightfully pretty, but I thought I understood from you the other day
+that she was a young lady du meilleur monde."
+
+"So she is!" answered Winterbourne; and having assured himself that his
+informant had seen Daisy and her companion but five minutes before, he
+jumped into a cab and went to call on Mrs. Miller. She was at home; but
+she apologized to him for receiving him in Daisy's absence.
+
+"She's gone out somewhere with Mr. Giovanelli," said Mrs. Miller. "She's
+always going round with Mr. Giovanelli."
+
+"I have noticed that they are very intimate," Winterbourne observed.
+
+"Oh, it seems as if they couldn't live without each other!" said Mrs.
+Miller. "Well, he's a real gentleman, anyhow. I keep telling Daisy she's
+engaged!"
+
+"And what does Daisy say?"
+
+"Oh, she says she isn't engaged. But she might as well be!" this
+impartial parent resumed; "she goes on as if she was. But I've made Mr.
+Giovanelli promise to tell me, if SHE doesn't. I should want to write to
+Mr. Miller about it--shouldn't you?"
+
+Winterbourne replied that he certainly should; and the state of mind of
+Daisy's mamma struck him as so unprecedented in the annals of parental
+vigilance that he gave up as utterly irrelevant the attempt to place her
+upon her guard.
+
+After this Daisy was never at home, and Winterbourne ceased to meet her
+at the houses of their common acquaintances, because, as he perceived,
+these shrewd people had quite made up their minds that she was going too
+far. They ceased to invite her; and they intimated that they desired to
+express to observant Europeans the great truth that, though Miss
+Daisy Miller was a young American lady, her behavior was not
+representative--was regarded by her compatriots as abnormal.
+Winterbourne wondered how she felt about all the cold shoulders that
+were turned toward her, and sometimes it annoyed him to suspect that
+she did not feel at all. He said to himself that she was too light and
+childish, too uncultivated and unreasoning, too provincial, to have
+reflected upon her ostracism, or even to have perceived it. Then at
+other moments he believed that she carried about in her elegant and
+irresponsible little organism a defiant, passionate, perfectly observant
+consciousness of the impression she produced. He asked himself whether
+Daisy's defiance came from the consciousness of innocence, or from her
+being, essentially, a young person of the reckless class. It must be
+admitted that holding one's self to a belief in Daisy's "innocence" came
+to seem to Winterbourne more and more a matter of fine-spun gallantry.
+As I have already had occasion to relate, he was angry at finding
+himself reduced to chopping logic about this young lady; he was vexed at
+his want of instinctive certitude as to how far her eccentricities were
+generic, national, and how far they were personal. From either view
+of them he had somehow missed her, and now it was too late. She was
+"carried away" by Mr. Giovanelli.
+
+A few days after his brief interview with her mother, he encountered her
+in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the Palace of
+the Caesars. The early Roman spring had filled the air with bloom and
+perfume, and the rugged surface of the Palatine was muffled with tender
+verdure. Daisy was strolling along the top of one of those great mounds
+of ruin that are embanked with mossy marble and paved with monumental
+inscriptions. It seemed to him that Rome had never been so lovely as
+just then. He stood, looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and
+color that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors,
+and feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity of the place
+reaffirm themselves in mysterious interfusion. It seemed to him also
+that Daisy had never looked so pretty, but this had been an observation
+of his whenever he met her. Giovanelli was at her side, and Giovanelli,
+too, wore an aspect of even unwonted brilliancy.
+
+"Well," said Daisy, "I should think you would be lonesome!"
+
+"Lonesome?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"You are always going round by yourself. Can't you get anyone to walk
+with you?"
+
+"I am not so fortunate," said Winterbourne, "as your companion."
+
+Giovanelli, from the first, had treated Winterbourne with distinguished
+politeness. He listened with a deferential air to his remarks; he
+laughed punctiliously at his pleasantries; he seemed disposed to testify
+to his belief that Winterbourne was a superior young man. He carried
+himself in no degree like a jealous wooer; he had obviously a great deal
+of tact; he had no objection to your expecting a little humility of him.
+It even seemed to Winterbourne at times that Giovanelli would find a
+certain mental relief in being able to have a private understanding with
+him--to say to him, as an intelligent man, that, bless you, HE knew
+how extraordinary was this young lady, and didn't flatter himself with
+delusive--or at least TOO delusive--hopes of matrimony and dollars. On
+this occasion he strolled away from his companion to pluck a sprig of
+almond blossom, which he carefully arranged in his buttonhole.
+
+"I know why you say that," said Daisy, watching Giovanelli. "Because you
+think I go round too much with HIM." And she nodded at her attendant.
+
+"Every one thinks so--if you care to know," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Of course I care to know!" Daisy exclaimed seriously. "But I don't
+believe it. They are only pretending to be shocked. They don't really
+care a straw what I do. Besides, I don't go round so much."
+
+"I think you will find they do care. They will show it disagreeably."
+
+Daisy looked at him a moment. "How disagreeably?"
+
+"Haven't you noticed anything?" Winterbourne asked.
+
+"I have noticed you. But I noticed you were as stiff as an umbrella the
+first time I saw you."
+
+"You will find I am not so stiff as several others," said Winterbourne,
+smiling.
+
+"How shall I find it?"
+
+"By going to see the others."
+
+"What will they do to me?"
+
+"They will give you the cold shoulder. Do you know what that means?"
+
+Daisy was looking at him intently; she began to color. "Do you mean as
+Mrs. Walker did the other night?"
+
+"Exactly!" said Winterbourne.
+
+She looked away at Giovanelli, who was decorating himself with his
+almond blossom. Then looking back at Winterbourne, "I shouldn't think
+you would let people be so unkind!" she said.
+
+"How can I help it?" he asked.
+
+"I should think you would say something."
+
+"I do say something;" and he paused a moment. "I say that your mother
+tells me that she believes you are engaged."
+
+"Well, she does," said Daisy very simply.
+
+Winterbourne began to laugh. "And does Randolph believe it?" he asked.
+
+"I guess Randolph doesn't believe anything," said Daisy. Randolph's
+skepticism excited Winterbourne to further hilarity, and he observed
+that Giovanelli was coming back to them. Daisy, observing it too,
+addressed herself again to her countryman. "Since you have mentioned
+it," she said, "I AM engaged." * * * Winterbourne looked at her; he had
+stopped laughing. "You don't believe!" she added.
+
+He was silent a moment; and then, "Yes, I believe it," he said.
+
+"Oh, no, you don't!" she answered. "Well, then--I am not!"
+
+The young girl and her cicerone were on their way to the gate of the
+enclosure, so that Winterbourne, who had but lately entered, presently
+took leave of them. A week afterward he went to dine at a beautiful
+villa on the Caelian Hill, and, on arriving, dismissed his hired
+vehicle. The evening was charming, and he promised himself the
+satisfaction of walking home beneath the Arch of Constantine and past
+the vaguely lighted monuments of the Forum. There was a waning moon in
+the sky, and her radiance was not brilliant, but she was veiled in a
+thin cloud curtain which seemed to diffuse and equalize it. When, on his
+return from the villa (it was eleven o'clock), Winterbourne approached
+the dusky circle of the Colosseum, it recurred to him, as a lover of
+the picturesque, that the interior, in the pale moonshine, would be well
+worth a glance. He turned aside and walked to one of the empty arches,
+near which, as he observed, an open carriage--one of the little Roman
+streetcabs--was stationed. Then he passed in, among the cavernous
+shadows of the great structure, and emerged upon the clear and silent
+arena. The place had never seemed to him more impressive. One-half of
+the gigantic circus was in deep shade, the other was sleeping in the
+luminous dusk. As he stood there he began to murmur Byron's famous
+lines, out of "Manfred," but before he had finished his quotation
+he remembered that if nocturnal meditations in the Colosseum are
+recommended by the poets, they are deprecated by the doctors. The
+historic atmosphere was there, certainly; but the historic atmosphere,
+scientifically considered, was no better than a villainous miasma.
+Winterbourne walked to the middle of the arena, to take a more general
+glance, intending thereafter to make a hasty retreat. The great cross in
+the center was covered with shadow; it was only as he drew near it that
+he made it out distinctly. Then he saw that two persons were stationed
+upon the low steps which formed its base. One of these was a woman,
+seated; her companion was standing in front of her.
+
+Presently the sound of the woman's voice came to him distinctly in the
+warm night air. "Well, he looks at us as one of the old lions or tigers
+may have looked at the Christian martyrs!" These were the words he
+heard, in the familiar accent of Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"Let us hope he is not very hungry," responded the ingenious Giovanelli.
+"He will have to take me first; you will serve for dessert!"
+
+Winterbourne stopped, with a sort of horror, and, it must be added, with
+a sort of relief. It was as if a sudden illumination had been flashed
+upon the ambiguity of Daisy's behavior, and the riddle had become easy
+to read. She was a young lady whom a gentleman need no longer be
+at pains to respect. He stood there, looking at her--looking at her
+companion and not reflecting that though he saw them vaguely, he himself
+must have been more brightly visible. He felt angry with himself that he
+had bothered so much about the right way of regarding Miss Daisy Miller.
+Then, as he was going to advance again, he checked himself, not from the
+fear that he was doing her injustice, but from a sense of the danger
+of appearing unbecomingly exhilarated by this sudden revulsion from
+cautious criticism. He turned away toward the entrance of the place,
+but, as he did so, he heard Daisy speak again.
+
+"Why, it was Mr. Winterbourne! He saw me, and he cuts me!"
+
+What a clever little reprobate she was, and how smartly she played at
+injured innocence! But he wouldn't cut her. Winterbourne came forward
+again and went toward the great cross. Daisy had got up; Giovanelli
+lifted his hat. Winterbourne had now begun to think simply of the
+craziness, from a sanitary point of view, of a delicate young girl
+lounging away the evening in this nest of malaria. What if she WERE
+a clever little reprobate? that was no reason for her dying of the
+perniciosa. "How long have you been here?" he asked almost brutally.
+
+Daisy, lovely in the flattering moonlight, looked at him a moment.
+Then--"All the evening," she answered, gently. * * * "I never saw
+anything so pretty."
+
+"I am afraid," said Winterbourne, "that you will not think Roman fever
+very pretty. This is the way people catch it. I wonder," he added,
+turning to Giovanelli, "that you, a native Roman, should countenance
+such a terrible indiscretion."
+
+"Ah," said the handsome native, "for myself I am not afraid."
+
+"Neither am I--for you! I am speaking for this young lady."
+
+Giovanelli lifted his well-shaped eyebrows and showed his brilliant
+teeth. But he took Winterbourne's rebuke with docility. "I told the
+signorina it was a grave indiscretion, but when was the signorina ever
+prudent?"
+
+"I never was sick, and I don't mean to be!" the signorina declared. "I
+don't look like much, but I'm healthy! I was bound to see the Colosseum
+by moonlight; I shouldn't have wanted to go home without that; and we
+have had the most beautiful time, haven't we, Mr. Giovanelli? If there
+has been any danger, Eugenio can give me some pills. He has got some
+splendid pills."
+
+"I should advise you," said Winterbourne, "to drive home as fast as
+possible and take one!"
+
+"What you say is very wise," Giovanelli rejoined. "I will go and make
+sure the carriage is at hand." And he went forward rapidly.
+
+Daisy followed with Winterbourne. He kept looking at her; she seemed
+not in the least embarrassed. Winterbourne said nothing; Daisy chattered
+about the beauty of the place. "Well, I HAVE seen the Colosseum by
+moonlight!" she exclaimed. "That's one good thing." Then, noticing
+Winterbourne's silence, she asked him why he didn't speak. He made
+no answer; he only began to laugh. They passed under one of the dark
+archways; Giovanelli was in front with the carriage. Here Daisy stopped
+a moment, looking at the young American. "DID you believe I was engaged,
+the other day?" she asked.
+
+"It doesn't matter what I believed the other day," said Winterbourne,
+still laughing.
+
+"Well, what do you believe now?"
+
+"I believe that it makes very little difference whether you are engaged
+or not!"
+
+He felt the young girl's pretty eyes fixed upon him through the thick
+gloom of the archway; she was apparently going to answer. But Giovanelli
+hurried her forward. "Quick! quick!" he said; "if we get in by midnight
+we are quite safe."
+
+Daisy took her seat in the carriage, and the fortunate Italian placed
+himself beside her. "Don't forget Eugenio's pills!" said Winterbourne as
+he lifted his hat.
+
+"I don't care," said Daisy in a little strange tone, "whether I have
+Roman fever or not!" Upon this the cab driver cracked his whip, and they
+rolled away over the desultory patches of the antique pavement.
+
+Winterbourne, to do him justice, as it were, mentioned to no one that
+he had encountered Miss Miller, at midnight, in the Colosseum with a
+gentleman; but nevertheless, a couple of days later, the fact of her
+having been there under these circumstances was known to every member
+of the little American circle, and commented accordingly. Winterbourne
+reflected that they had of course known it at the hotel, and that, after
+Daisy's return, there had been an exchange of remarks between the porter
+and the cab driver. But the young man was conscious, at the same moment,
+that it had ceased to be a matter of serious regret to him that the
+little American flirt should be "talked about" by low-minded menials.
+These people, a day or two later, had serious information to give: the
+little American flirt was alarmingly ill. Winterbourne, when the rumor
+came to him, immediately went to the hotel for more news. He found that
+two or three charitable friends had preceded him, and that they were
+being entertained in Mrs. Miller's salon by Randolph.
+
+"It's going round at night," said Randolph--"that's what made her sick.
+She's always going round at night. I shouldn't think she'd want to,
+it's so plaguy dark. You can't see anything here at night, except when
+there's a moon. In America there's always a moon!" Mrs. Miller was
+invisible; she was now, at least, giving her daughter the advantage of
+her society. It was evident that Daisy was dangerously ill.
+
+Winterbourne went often to ask for news of her, and once he saw Mrs.
+Miller, who, though deeply alarmed, was, rather to his surprise,
+perfectly composed, and, as it appeared, a most efficient and judicious
+nurse. She talked a good deal about Dr. Davis, but Winterbourne paid her
+the compliment of saying to himself that she was not, after all, such
+a monstrous goose. "Daisy spoke of you the other day," she said to him.
+"Half the time she doesn't know what she's saying, but that time I think
+she did. She gave me a message she told me to tell you. She told me to
+tell you that she never was engaged to that handsome Italian. I am sure
+I am very glad; Mr. Giovanelli hasn't been near us since she was taken
+ill. I thought he was so much of a gentleman; but I don't call that
+very polite! A lady told me that he was afraid I was angry with him for
+taking Daisy round at night. Well, so I am, but I suppose he knows I'm a
+lady. I would scorn to scold him. Anyway, she says she's not engaged. I
+don't know why she wanted you to know, but she said to me three times,
+'Mind you tell Mr. Winterbourne.' And then she told me to ask if you
+remembered the time you went to that castle in Switzerland. But I said
+I wouldn't give any such messages as that. Only, if she is not engaged,
+I'm sure I'm glad to know it."
+
+But, as Winterbourne had said, it mattered very little. A week after
+this, the poor girl died; it had been a terrible case of the fever.
+Daisy's grave was in the little Protestant cemetery, in an angle of
+the wall of imperial Rome, beneath the cypresses and the thick spring
+flowers. Winterbourne stood there beside it, with a number of other
+mourners, a number larger than the scandal excited by the young lady's
+career would have led you to expect. Near him stood Giovanelli, who came
+nearer still before Winterbourne turned away. Giovanelli was very pale:
+on this occasion he had no flower in his buttonhole; he seemed to wish
+to say something. At last he said, "She was the most beautiful young
+lady I ever saw, and the most amiable;" and then he added in a moment,
+"and she was the most innocent."
+
+Winterbourne looked at him and presently repeated his words, "And the
+most innocent?"
+
+"The most innocent!"
+
+Winterbourne felt sore and angry. "Why the devil," he asked, "did you
+take her to that fatal place?"
+
+Mr. Giovanelli's urbanity was apparently imperturbable. He looked on the
+ground a moment, and then he said, "For myself I had no fear; and she
+wanted to go."
+
+"That was no reason!" Winterbourne declared.
+
+The subtle Roman again dropped his eyes. "If she had lived, I should
+have got nothing. She would never have married me, I am sure."
+
+"She would never have married you?"
+
+"For a moment I hoped so. But no. I am sure."
+
+Winterbourne listened to him: he stood staring at the raw protuberance
+among the April daisies. When he turned away again, Mr. Giovanelli, with
+his light, slow step, had retired.
+
+Winterbourne almost immediately left Rome; but the following summer he
+again met his aunt, Mrs. Costello at Vevey. Mrs. Costello was fond of
+Vevey. In the interval Winterbourne had often thought of Daisy Miller
+and her mystifying manners. One day he spoke of her to his aunt--said it
+was on his conscience that he had done her injustice.
+
+"I am sure I don't know," said Mrs. Costello. "How did your injustice
+affect her?"
+
+"She sent me a message before her death which I didn't understand at the
+time; but I have understood it since. She would have appreciated one's
+esteem."
+
+"Is that a modest way," asked Mrs. Costello, "of saying that she would
+have reciprocated one's affection?"
+
+Winterbourne offered no answer to this question; but he presently said,
+"You were right in that remark that you made last summer. I was booked
+to make a mistake. I have lived too long in foreign parts."
+
+Nevertheless, he went back to live at Geneva, whence there continue to
+come the most contradictory accounts of his motives of sojourn: a report
+that he is "studying" hard--an intimation that he is much interested in
+a very clever foreign lady.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
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+
+
+The text is that of the first American appearance in book form, 1879.
+
+
+DAISY MILLER:  A STUDY
+
+
+IN TWO PARTS
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+At the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is a
+particularly comfortable hotel.  There are, indeed, many hotels,
+for the entertainment of tourists is the business of the place,
+which, as many travelers will remember, is seated upon the edge
+of a remarkably blue lake--a lake that it behooves every tourist
+to visit.  The shore of the lake presents an unbroken array
+of establishments of this order, of every category, from the
+"grand hotel" of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front,
+a hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof,
+to the little Swiss pension of an elder day, with its name
+inscribed in German-looking lettering upon a pink or yellow
+wall and an awkward summerhouse in the angle of the garden.
+One of the hotels at Vevey, however, is famous, even classical,
+being distinguished from many of its upstart neighbors
+by an air both of luxury and of maturity.  In this region,
+in the month of June, American travelers are extremely numerous;
+it may be said, indeed, that Vevey assumes at this period
+some of the characteristics of an American watering place.
+There are sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo,
+of Newport and Saratoga.  There is a flitting hither and thither
+of "stylish" young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces,
+a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of
+high-pitched voices at all times.  You receive an impression
+of these things at the excellent inn of the "Trois Couronnes"
+and are transported in fancy to the Ocean House or to Congress Hall.
+But at the "Trois Couronnes," it must be added, there are other
+features that are much at variance with these suggestions:
+neat German waiters, who look like secretaries of legation;
+Russian princesses sitting in the garden; little Polish
+boys walking about held by the hand, with their governors;
+a view of the sunny crest of the Dent du Midi and the picturesque
+towers of the Castle of Chillon.
+
+I hardly know whether it was the analogies or the differences that were
+uppermost in the mind of a young American, who, two or three years ago,
+sat in the garden of the "Trois Couronnes," looking about him,
+rather idly, at some of the graceful objects I have mentioned.
+It was a beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion the young
+American looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming.
+He had come from Geneva the day before by the little steamer,
+to see his aunt, who was staying at the hotel--Geneva having been
+for a long time his place of residence.  But his aunt had a headache--
+his aunt had almost always a headache--and now she was shut up in
+her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at liberty to wander about.
+He was some seven-and-twenty years of age; when his friends spoke
+of him, they usually said that he was at Geneva "studying."
+When his enemies spoke of him, they said--but, after all, he had
+no enemies; he was an extremely amiable fellow, and universally liked.
+What I should say is, simply, that when certain persons spoke
+of him they affirmed that the reason of his spending so much
+time at Geneva was that he was extremely devoted to a lady
+who lived there--a foreign lady--a person older than himself.
+Very few Americans--indeed, I think none--had ever seen this lady,
+about whom there were some singular stories.  But Winterbourne
+had an old attachment for the little metropolis of Calvinism;
+he had been put to school there as a boy, and he had afterward
+gone to college there--circumstances which had led to his forming
+a great many youthful friendships.  Many of these he had kept,
+and they were a source of great satisfaction to him.
+
+After knocking at his aunt's door and learning that she was indisposed,
+he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had come in to
+his breakfast.  He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking
+a small cup of coffee, which had been served to him on a little table
+in the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache.
+At last he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette.  Presently a
+small boy came walking along the path--an urchin of nine or ten.
+The child, who was diminutive for his years, had an aged expression
+of countenance, a pale complexion, and sharp little features.
+He was dressed in knickerbockers, with red stockings, which displayed
+his poor little spindle-shanks; he also wore a brilliant red cravat.
+He carried in his hand a long alpenstock, the sharp point of which
+he thrust into everything that he approached--the flowerbeds,
+the garden benches, the trains of the ladies' dresses.  In front
+of Winterbourne he paused, looking at him with a pair of bright,
+penetrating little eyes.
+
+"Will you give me a lump of sugar?" he asked in a sharp, hard little voice--
+a voice immature and yet, somehow, not young.
+
+Winterbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee
+service rested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained.
+"Yes, you may take one," he answered; "but I don't think sugar
+is good for little boys."
+
+This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of
+the coveted fragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of
+his knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another place.
+He poked his alpenstock, lance-fashion, into Winterbourne's bench
+and tried to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.
+
+"Oh, blazes; it's har-r-d!" he exclaimed, pronouncing the adjective
+in a peculiar manner.
+
+Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might
+have the honor of claiming him as a fellow countryman.
+"Take care you don't hurt your teeth," he said, paternally.
+
+"I haven't got any teeth to hurt.  They have all come out.
+I have only got seven teeth.  My mother counted them last night,
+and one came out right afterward.  She said she'd slap me
+if any more came out.  I can't help it.  It's this old Europe.
+It's the climate that makes them come out.  In America they
+didn't come out.  It's these hotels."
+
+Winterbourne was much amused.  "If you eat three lumps of sugar,
+your mother will certainly slap you," he said.
+
+"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young interlocutor.
+"I can't get any candy here--any American candy.  American candy's
+the best candy."
+
+"And are American little boys the best little boys?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"I don't know.  I'm an American boy," said the child.
+
+"I see you are one of the best!" laughed Winterbourne.
+
+"Are you an American man?" pursued this vivacious infant.
+And then, on Winterbourne's affirmative reply--"American men
+are the best," he declared.
+
+His companion thanked him for the compliment, and the child,
+who had now got astride of his alpenstock, stood looking
+about him, while he attacked a second lump of sugar.
+Winterbourne wondered if he himself had been like this in his infancy,
+for he had been brought to Europe at about this age.
+
+"Here comes my sister!" cried the child in a moment.
+"She's an American girl."
+
+Winterbourne looked along the path and saw a beautiful
+young lady advancing.  "American girls are the best girls,"
+he said cheerfully to his young companion.
+
+"My sister ain't the best!" the child declared.
+"She's always blowing at me."
+
+"I imagine that is your fault, not hers," said Winterbourne.
+The young lady meanwhile had drawn near.  She was dressed in white muslin,
+with a hundred frills and flounces, and knots of pale-colored ribbon.
+She was bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol,
+with a deep border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty.
+"How pretty they are!" thought Winterbourne, straightening himself
+in his seat, as if he were prepared to rise.
+
+The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the garden,
+which overlooked the lake.  The little boy had now converted his alpenstock
+into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing about in the gravel
+and kicking it up not a little.
+
+"Randolph," said the young lady, "what ARE you doing?"
+
+"I'm going up the Alps," replied Randolph.  "This is the way!"
+And he gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles
+about Winterbourne's ears.
+
+"That's the way they come down," said Winterbourne.
+
+"He's an American man!" cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.
+
+The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked
+straight at her brother.  "Well, I guess you had better be quiet,"
+she simply observed.
+
+It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented.  He got
+up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his cigarette.
+"This little boy and I have made acquaintance," he said, with great civility.
+In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young man was not at liberty
+to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely occurring
+conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions could be better than these?--
+a pretty American girl coming and standing in front of you in a garden.
+This pretty American girl, however, on hearing Winterbourne's observation,
+simply glanced at him; she then turned her head and looked over the parapet,
+at the lake and the opposite mountains.  He wondered whether he had gone
+too far, but he decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat.
+While he was thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned
+to the little boy again.
+
+"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.
+
+"I bought it," responded Randolph.
+
+"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.
+
+The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
+or two of ribbon.  Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
+"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a moment.
+
+"Are you going to Italy?"  Winterbourne inquired in a tone
+of great respect.
+
+The young lady glanced at him again.  "Yes, sir," she replied.
+And she said nothing more.
+
+"Are you--a-- going over the Simplon?"  Winterbourne pursued,
+a little embarrassed.
+
+"I don't know," she said.  "I suppose it's some mountain.
+Randolph, what mountain are we going over?"
+
+"Going where?" the child demanded.
+
+"To Italy," Winterbourne explained.
+
+"I don't know," said Randolph.  "I don't want to go to Italy.
+I want to go to America."
+
+"Oh, Italy is a beautiful place!" rejoined the young man.
+
+"Can you get candy there?"  Randolph loudly inquired.
+
+"I hope not," said his sister.  "I guess you have had enough candy,
+and mother thinks so too."
+
+"I haven't had any for ever so long--for a hundred weeks!"
+cried the boy, still jumping about.
+
+The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again;
+and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty
+of the view.  He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun
+to perceive that she was not in the least embarrassed herself.
+There had not been the slightest alteration in her charming complexion;
+she was evidently neither offended nor flattered.
+If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed not
+particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner.
+Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects
+of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted,
+she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then
+he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking.
+It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance,
+for the young girl's eyes were singularly honest and fresh.
+They were wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not
+seen for a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman's
+various features--her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth.
+He had a great relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to
+observing and analyzing it; and as regards this young lady's face
+he made several observations.  It was not at all insipid, but it
+was not exactly expressive; and though it was eminently delicate,
+Winterbourne mentally accused it--very forgivingly--of a want of finish.
+He thought it very possible that Master Randolph's sister was a coquette;
+he was sure she had a spirit of her own; but in her bright,
+sweet, superficial little visage there was no mockery, no irony.
+Before long it became obvious that she was much disposed
+toward conversation.  She told him that they were going to Rome
+for the winter--she and her mother and Randolph.  She asked him
+if he was a "real American"; she shouldn't have taken him for one;
+he seemed more like a German--this was said after a little hesitation--
+especially when he spoke.  Winterbourne, laughing, answered that
+he had met Germans who spoke like Americans, but that he had not,
+so far as he remembered, met an American who spoke like a German.
+Then he asked her if she should not be more comfortable in sitting
+upon the bench which he had just quitted.  She answered that she
+liked standing up and walking about; but she presently sat down.
+She told him she was from New York State--"if you know where that is."
+Winterbourne learned more about her by catching hold of her small,
+slippery brother and making him stand a few minutes by his side.
+
+"Tell me your name, my boy," he said.
+
+"Randolph C. Miller," said the boy sharply.  "And I'll tell you her name";
+and he leveled his alpenstock at his sister.
+
+"You had better wait till you are asked!" said this young lady calmly.
+
+"I should like very much to know your name," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Her name is Daisy Miller!" cried the child.  "But that isn't her real name;
+that isn't her name on her cards."
+
+"It's a pity you haven't got one of my cards!" said Miss Miller.
+
+"Her real name is Annie P. Miller," the boy went on.
+
+"Ask him HIS name," said his sister, indicating Winterbourne.
+
+But on this point Randolph seemed perfectly indifferent;
+he continued to supply information with regard to his own family.
+"My father's name is Ezra B. Miller," he announced.
+"My father ain't in Europe; my father's in a better
+place than Europe."
+
+Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner
+in which the child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller
+had been removed to the sphere of celestial reward.
+But Randolph immediately added, "My father's in Schenectady.
+He's got a big business.  My father's rich, you bet!"
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Miss Miller, lowering her parasol and looking
+at the embroidered border.  Winterbourne presently released
+the child, who departed, dragging his alpenstock along the path.
+"He doesn't like Europe," said the young girl.  "He wants
+to go back."
+
+"To Schenectady, you mean?"
+
+"Yes; he wants to go right home.  He hasn't got any boys here.
+There is one boy here, but he always goes round with a teacher;
+they won't let him play."
+
+"And your brother hasn't any teacher?"  Winterbourne inquired.
+
+"Mother thought of getting him one, to travel round with us.
+There was a lady told her of a very good teacher;
+an American lady--perhaps you know her--Mrs. Sanders.
+I think she came from Boston.  She told her of this teacher,
+and we thought of getting him to travel round with us.
+But Randolph said he didn't want a teacher traveling round with us.
+He said he wouldn't have lessons when he was in the cars.
+And we ARE in the cars about half the time.  There was an English
+lady we met in the cars--I think her name was Miss Featherstone;
+perhaps you know her.  She wanted to know why I didn't give
+Randolph lessons--give him 'instruction,' she called it.
+I guess he could give me more instruction than I could give him.
+He's very smart."
+
+"Yes," said Winterbourne; "he seems very smart."
+
+"Mother's going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to Italy.
+Can you get good teachers in Italy?"
+
+"Very good, I should think," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Or else she's going to find some school.  He ought to learn
+some more.  He's only nine.  He's going to college."
+And in this way Miss Miller continued to converse upon the affairs
+of her family and upon other topics.  She sat there with her
+extremely pretty hands, ornamented with very brilliant rings,
+folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyes now resting upon
+those of Winterbourne, now wandering over the garden, the people
+who passed by, and the beautiful view.  She talked to Winterbourne
+as if she had known him a long time.  He found it very pleasant.
+It was many years since he had heard a young girl talk so much.
+It might have been said of this unknown young lady, who had come
+and sat down beside him upon a bench, that she chattered.
+She was very quiet; she sat in a charming, tranquil attitude;
+but her lips and her eyes were constantly moving.  She had a soft,
+slender, agreeable voice, and her tone was decidedly sociable.
+She gave Winterbourne a history of her movements and intentions
+and those of her mother and brother, in Europe, and enumerated,
+in particular, the various hotels at which they had stopped.
+"That English lady in the cars," she said--"Miss Featherstone--
+asked me if we didn't all live in hotels in America.
+I told her I had never been in so many hotels in my life as since I
+came to Europe.  I have never seen so many--it's nothing but hotels."
+But Miss Miller did not make this remark with a querulous accent;
+she appeared to be in the best humor with everything.
+She declared that the hotels were very good, when once you
+got used to their ways, and that Europe was perfectly sweet.
+She was not disappointed--not a bit.  Perhaps it was because
+she had heard so much about it before.  She had ever so many
+intimate friends that had been there ever so many times.
+And then she had had ever so many dresses and things from Paris.
+Whenever she put on a Paris dress she felt as if she
+were in Europe.
+
+"It was a kind of a wishing cap," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Miller without examining this analogy;
+"it always made me wish I was here.  But I needn't have
+done that for dresses.  I am sure they send all the pretty
+ones to America; you see the most frightful things here.
+The only thing I don't like," she proceeded, "is the society.
+There isn't any society; or, if there is, I don't know
+where it keeps itself.  Do you?  I suppose there is some
+society somewhere, but I haven't seen anything of it.
+I'm very fond of society, and I have always had a great deal of it.
+I don't mean only in Schenectady, but in New York.
+I used to go to New York every winter.  In New York I had lots
+of society.  Last winter I had seventeen dinners given me;
+and three of them were by gentlemen," added Daisy Miller.
+"I have more friends in New York than in Schenectady--
+more gentleman friends; and more young lady friends too,"
+she resumed in a moment.  She paused again for an instant;
+she was looking at Winterbourne with all her prettiness in her
+lively eyes and in her light, slightly monotonous smile.
+"I have always had," she said, "a great deal of gentlemen's society."
+
+Poor Winterbourne was amused, perplexed, and decidedly charmed.
+He had never yet heard a young girl express herself in just
+this fashion; never, at least, save in cases where to say such
+things seemed a kind of demonstrative evidence of a certain
+laxity of deportment.  And yet was he to accuse Miss Daisy Miller
+of actual or potential inconduite, as they said at Geneva?
+He felt that he had lived at Geneva so long that he had lost
+a good deal; he had become dishabituated to the American tone.
+Never, indeed, since he had grown old enough to appreciate things,
+had he encountered a young American girl of so pronounced a type as this.
+Certainly she was very charming, but how deucedly sociable!
+Was she simply a pretty girl from New York State?  Were they all
+like that, the pretty girls who had a good deal of gentlemen's society?
+Or was she also a designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person?
+Winterbourne had lost his instinct in this matter, and his reason
+could not help him.  Miss Daisy Miller looked extremely innocent.
+Some people had told him that, after all, American girls
+were exceedingly innocent; and others had told him that,
+after all, they were not.  He was inclined to think Miss Daisy
+Miller was a flirt--a pretty American flirt.  He had never,
+as yet, had any relations with young ladies of this category.
+He had known, here in Europe, two or three women--persons older
+than Miss Daisy Miller, and provided, for respectability's sake,
+with husbands--who were great coquettes--dangerous, terrible women,
+with whom one's relations were liable to take a serious turn.
+But this young girl was not a coquette in that sense; she was
+very unsophisticated; she was only a pretty American flirt.
+Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found the formula
+that applied to Miss Daisy Miller.  He leaned back in his seat;
+he remarked to himself that she had the most charming nose
+he had ever seen; he wondered what were the regular conditions
+and limitations of one's intercourse with a pretty American flirt.
+It presently became apparent that he was on the way to learn.
+
+"Have you been to that old castle?" asked the young girl, pointing with her
+parasol to the far-gleaming walls of the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+"Yes, formerly, more than once," said Winterbourne.
+"You too, I suppose, have seen it?"
+
+"No; we haven't been there.  I want to go there dreadfully.
+Of course I mean to go there.  I wouldn't go away from here
+without having seen that old castle."
+
+"It's a very pretty excursion," said Winterbourne, "and very easy to make.
+You can drive, you know, or you can go by the little steamer."
+
+"You can go in the cars," said Miss Miller.
+
+"Yes; you can go in the cars," Winterbourne assented.
+
+"Our courier says they take you right up to the castle," the young
+girl continued.  "We were going last week, but my mother gave out.
+She suffers dreadfully from dyspepsia.  She said she couldn't go.
+Randolph wouldn't go either; he says he doesn't think much of old castles.
+But I guess we'll go this week, if we can get Randolph."
+
+"Your brother is not interested in ancient monuments?"
+Winterbourne inquired, smiling.
+
+"He says he don't care much about old castles.  He's only nine.
+He wants to stay at the hotel.  Mother's afraid to leave him alone,
+and the courier won't stay with him; so we haven't been to many places.
+But it will be too bad if we don't go up there."  And Miss Miller
+pointed again at the Chateau de Chillon.
+
+"I should think it might be arranged," said Winterbourne.
+"Couldn't you get some one to stay for the afternoon with Randolph?"
+
+Miss Miller looked at him a moment, and then, very placidly,
+"I wish YOU would stay with him!" she said.
+
+Winterbourne hesitated a moment.  "I should much rather go
+to Chillon with you."
+
+"With me?" asked the young girl with the same placidity.
+
+She didn't rise, blushing, as a young girl at Geneva would have done;
+and yet Winterbourne, conscious that he had been very bold,
+thought it possible she was offended.  "With your mother,"
+he answered very respectfully.
+
+But it seemed that both his audacity and his respect were lost
+upon Miss Daisy Miller.  "I guess my mother won't go, after all,"
+she said.  "She don't like to ride round in the afternoon.
+But did you really mean what you said just now--that you would
+like to go up there?"
+
+"Most earnestly," Winterbourne declared.
+
+"Then we may arrange it.  If mother will stay with Randolph,
+I guess Eugenio will."
+
+"Eugenio?" the young man inquired.
+
+"Eugenio's our courier.  He doesn't like to stay with Randolph;
+he's the most fastidious man I ever saw.  But he's a splendid courier.
+I guess he'll stay at home with Randolph if mother does, and then
+we can go to the castle."
+
+Winterbourne reflected for an instant as lucidly as possible--
+"we" could only mean Miss Daisy Miller and himself.
+This program seemed almost too agreeable for credence;
+he felt as if he ought to kiss the young lady's hand.
+Possibly he would have done so and quite spoiled the project,
+but at this moment another person, presumably Eugenio, appeared.
+A tall, handsome man, with superb whiskers, wearing a velvet
+morning coat and a brilliant watch chain, approached Miss Miller,
+looking sharply at her companion.  "Oh, Eugenio!" said Miss
+Miller with the friendliest accent.
+
+Eugenio had looked at Winterbourne from head to foot;
+he now bowed gravely to the young lady.  "I have the honor
+to inform mademoiselle that luncheon is upon the table."
+
+Miss Miller slowly rose.  "See here, Eugenio!" she said;
+"I'm going to that old castle, anyway."
+
+"To the Chateau de Chillon, mademoiselle?" the courier inquired.
+"Mademoiselle has made arrangements?" he added in a tone which struck
+Winterbourne as very impertinent.
+
+Eugenio's tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller's own apprehension,
+a slightly ironical light upon the young girl's situation.
+She turned to Winterbourne, blushing a little--a very little.
+"You won't back out?" she said.
+
+"I shall not be happy till we go!" he protested.
+
+"And you are staying in this hotel?" she went on.
+"And you are really an American?"
+
+The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively.  The young man,
+at least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller;
+it conveyed an imputation that she "picked up" acquaintances.  "I shall
+have the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,"
+he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.
+
+"Oh, well, we'll go some day," said Miss Miller.
+And she gave him a smile and turned away.  She put up
+her parasol and walked back to the inn beside Eugenio.
+Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved away,
+drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself
+that she had the tournure of a princess.
+
+He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising
+to present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller.
+As soon as the former lady had got better of her headache,
+he waited upon her in her apartment; and, after the proper
+inquiries in regard to her health, he asked her if she had
+observed in the hotel an American family--a mamma, a daughter,
+and a little boy.
+
+"And a courier?" said Mrs. Costello.  "Oh yes, I have observed them.
+Seen them--heard them--and kept out of their way."  Mrs. Costello was
+a widow with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently
+intimated that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches,
+she would probably have left a deeper impress upon her time.  She had a long,
+pale face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white hair,
+which she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head.
+She had two sons married in New York and another who was now in Europe.
+This young man was amusing himself at Hamburg, and, though he was
+on his travels, was rarely perceived to visit any particular city
+at the moment selected by his mother for her own appearance there.
+Her nephew, who had come up to Vevey expressly to see her, was therefore
+more attentive than those who, as she said, were nearer to her.
+He had imbibed at Geneva the idea that one must always be attentive
+to one's aunt.  Mrs. Costello had not seen him for many years,
+and she was greatly pleased with him, manifesting her approbation
+by initiating him into many of the secrets of that social sway which,
+as she gave him to understand, she exerted in the American capital.
+She admitted that she was very exclusive; but, if he were acquainted with
+New York, he would see that one had to be.  And her picture of the minutely
+hierarchical constitution of the society of that city, which she presented
+to him in many different lights, was, to Winterbourne's imagination,
+almost oppressively striking.
+
+He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller's
+place in the social scale was low.  "I am afraid you don't approve
+of them," he said.
+
+"They are very common," Mrs. Costello declared.  "They are the sort
+of Americans that one does one's duty by not--not accepting."
+
+"Ah, you don't accept them?" said the young man.
+
+"I can't, my dear Frederick.  I would if I could, but I can't."
+
+"The young girl is very pretty," said Winterbourne in a moment.
+
+"Of course she's pretty.  But she is very common."
+
+"I see what you mean, of course," said Winterbourne after another pause.
+
+"She has that charming look that they all have," his aunt resumed.
+"I can't think where they pick it up; and she dresses
+in perfection--no, you don't know how well she dresses.
+I can't think where they get their taste."
+
+"But, my dear aunt, she is not, after all, a Comanche savage."
+
+"She is a young lady," said Mrs. Costello, "who has an intimacy
+with her mamma's courier."
+
+"An intimacy with the courier?" the young man demanded.
+
+"Oh, the mother is just as bad!  They treat the courier
+like a familiar friend--like a gentleman.  I shouldn't wonder
+if he dines with them.  Very likely they have never seen a man
+with such good manners, such fine clothes, so like a gentleman.
+He probably corresponds to the young lady's idea of a count.
+He sits with them in the garden in the evening.
+I think he smokes."
+
+Winterbourne listened with interest to these disclosures;
+they helped him to make up his mind about Miss Daisy.
+Evidently she was rather wild.  "Well," he said, "I am not
+a courier, and yet she was very charming to me."
+
+"You had better have said at first," said Mrs. Costello with dignity,
+"that you had made her acquaintance."
+
+"We simply met in the garden, and we talked a bit."
+
+"Tout bonnement!  And pray what did you say?"
+
+"I said I should take the liberty of introducing her to my admirable aunt."
+
+"I am much obliged to you."
+
+"It was to guarantee my respectability," said Winterbourne.
+
+"And pray who is to guarantee hers?"
+
+"Ah, you are cruel!" said the young man.  "She's a very nice young girl."
+
+"You don't say that as if you believed it," Mrs. Costello observed.
+
+"She is completely uncultivated," Winterbourne went on.
+"But she is wonderfully pretty, and, in short, she is very nice.
+To prove that I believe it, I am going to take her to the
+Chateau de Chillon."
+
+"You two are going off there together?  I should say it
+proved just the contrary.  How long had you known her,
+may I ask, when this interesting project was formed?
+You haven't been twenty-four hours in the house."
+
+"I have known her half an hour!" said Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Costello.  "What a dreadful girl!"
+
+Her nephew was silent for some moments.  "You really think, then,"
+he began earnestly, and with a desire for trustworthy information--"you
+really think that--" But he paused again.
+
+"Think what, sir?" said his aunt.
+
+"That she is the sort of young lady who expects a man, sooner or later,
+to carry her off?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea what such young ladies expect a man to do.
+But I really think that you had better not meddle with little American
+girls that are uncultivated, as you call them.  You have lived too long
+out of the country.  You will be sure to make some great mistake.
+You are too innocent."
+
+"My dear aunt, I am not so innocent," said Winterbourne,
+smiling and curling his mustache.
+
+"You are guilty too, then!"
+
+Winterbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively.
+"You won't let the poor girl know you then?" he asked at last.
+
+"Is it literally true that she is going to the Chateau de Chillon with you?"
+
+"I think that she fully intends it."
+
+"Then, my dear Frederick," said Mrs. Costello, "I must decline the honor
+of her acquaintance.  I am an old woman, but I am not too old, thank Heaven,
+to be shocked!"
+
+"But don't they all do these things--the young girls in America?"
+Winterbourne inquired.
+
+Mrs. Costello stared a moment.  "I should like to see my granddaughters
+do them!" she declared grimly.
+
+This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for Winterbourne remembered
+to have heard that his pretty cousins in New York were "tremendous flirts."
+If, therefore, Miss Daisy Miller exceeded the liberal margin allowed to
+these young ladies, it was probable that anything might be expected of her.
+Winterbourne was impatient to see her again, and he was vexed with himself
+that, by instinct, he should not appreciate her justly.
+
+Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should
+say to her about his aunt's refusal to become acquainted with her;
+but he discovered, promptly enough, that with Miss Daisy Miller there
+was no great need of walking on tiptoe.  He found her that evening in
+the garden, wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolent sylph,
+and swinging to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld.
+It was ten o'clock. He had dined with his aunt, had been sitting with
+her since dinner, and had just taken leave of her till the morrow.
+Miss Daisy Miller seemed very glad to see him; she declared it
+was the longest evening she had ever passed.
+
+"Have you been all alone?" he asked.
+
+"I have been walking round with mother.  But mother gets tired
+walking round," she answered.
+
+"Has she gone to bed?"
+
+"No; she doesn't like to go to bed," said the young girl.
+"She doesn't sleep--not three hours.  She says she
+doesn't know how she lives.  She's dreadfully nervous.
+I guess she sleeps more than she thinks.  She's gone somewhere
+after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed.
+He doesn't like to go to bed."
+
+"Let us hope she will persuade him," observed Winterbourne.
+
+"She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn't like her to talk
+to him," said Miss Daisy, opening her fan.  "She's going to try
+to get Eugenio to talk to him.  But he isn't afraid of Eugenio.
+Eugenio's a splendid courier, but he can't make much impression
+on Randolph!  I don't believe he'll go to bed before eleven."
+It appeared that Randolph's vigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged,
+for Winterbourne strolled about with the young girl for some
+time without meeting her mother.  "I have been looking round
+for that lady you want to introduce me to," his companion resumed.
+"She's your aunt."  Then, on Winterbourne's admitting the fact
+and expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it,
+she said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid.
+She was very quiet and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs;
+she spoke to no one, and she never dined at the table d'hote.
+Every two days she had a headache.  "I think that's a lovely
+description, headache and all!" said Miss Daisy, chattering along
+in her thin, gay voice.  "I want to know her ever so much.
+I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like her.
+She would be very exclusive.  I like a lady to be exclusive;
+I'm dying to be exclusive myself.  Well, we ARE exclusive,
+mother and I. We don't speak to everyone--or they don't speak to us.
+I suppose it's about the same thing.  Anyway, I shall be ever
+so glad to know your aunt."
+
+Winterbourne was embarrassed.  "She would be most happy," he said;
+"but I am afraid those headaches will interfere."
+
+The young girl looked at him through the dusk.
+"But I suppose she doesn't have a headache every day,"
+she said sympathetically.
+
+Winterbourne was silent a moment.  "She tells me she does,"
+he answered at last, not knowing what to say.
+
+Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him.  Her prettiness
+was still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her
+enormous fan.  "She doesn't want to know me!" she said suddenly.
+"Why don't you say so?  You needn't be afraid.  I'm not afraid!"
+And she gave a little laugh.
+
+Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice; he was touched, shocked,
+mortified by it.  "My dear young lady," he protested, "she knows no one.
+It's her wretched health."
+
+The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still.
+"You needn't be afraid," she repeated.  "Why should she want
+to know me?"  Then she paused again; she was close to the parapet
+of the garden, and in front of her was the starlit lake.
+There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in the distance
+were dimly seen mountain forms.  Daisy Miller looked out upon
+the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh.
+"Gracious! she IS exclusive!" she said.  Winterbourne wondered
+whether she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost
+wished that her sense of injury might be such as to make it
+becoming in him to attempt to reassure and comfort her.
+He had a pleasant sense that she would be very approachable
+for consolatory purposes.  He felt then, for the instant,
+quite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit
+that she was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn't
+mind her.  But before he had time to commit himself to this
+perilous mixture of gallantry and impiety, the young lady,
+resuming her walk, gave an exclamation in quite another tone.
+"Well, here's Mother!  I guess she hasn't got Randolph to go to bed."
+The figure of a lady appeared at a distance, very indistinct
+in the darkness, and advancing with a slow and wavering movement.
+Suddenly it seemed to pause.
+
+"Are you sure it is your mother?  Can you distinguish her in this
+thick dusk?"  Winterbourne asked.
+
+"Well!" cried Miss Daisy Miller with a laugh; "I guess I know my own mother.
+And when she has got on my shawl, too!  She is always wearing my things."
+
+The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot
+at which she had checked her steps.
+
+"I am afraid your mother doesn't see you," said Winterbourne.
+"Or perhaps," he added, thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke
+permissible--"perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl."
+
+"Oh, it's a fearful old thing!" the young girl replied serenely.
+"I told her she could wear it.  She won't come here because she sees you."
+
+"Ah, then," said Winterbourne, "I had better leave you."
+
+"Oh, no; come on!" urged Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"I'm afraid your mother doesn't approve of my walking with you."
+
+Miss Miller gave him a serious glance.  "It isn't for me;
+it's for you--that is, it's for HER. Well, I don't know who
+it's for!  But mother doesn't like any of my gentlemen friends.
+She's right down timid.  She always makes a fuss if I introduce
+a gentleman.  But I DO introduce them--almost always.
+If I didn't introduce my gentlemen friends to Mother,"
+the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone,
+"I shouldn't think I was natural."
+
+"To introduce me," said Winterbourne, "you must know my name."
+And he proceeded to pronounce it.
+
+"Oh, dear, I can't say all that!" said his companion with a laugh.
+But by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they
+drew near, walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it,
+looking intently at the lake and turning her back to them.
+"Mother!" said the young girl in a tone of decision.
+Upon this the elder lady turned round.  "Mr. Winterbourne," said Miss
+Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very frankly and prettily.
+"Common," she was, as Mrs. Costello had pronounced her;
+yet it was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness,
+she had a singularly delicate grace.
+
+Her mother was a small, spare, light person, with a
+wandering eye, a very exiguous nose, and a large forehead,
+decorated with a certain amount of thin, much frizzled hair.
+Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was dressed with extreme elegance;
+she had enormous diamonds in her ears.  So far as Winterbourne
+could observe, she gave him no greeting--she certainly was not
+looking at him.  Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl straight.
+"What are you doing, poking round here?" this young lady inquired,
+but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice
+of words may imply.
+
+"I don't know," said her mother, turning toward the lake again.
+
+"I shouldn't think you'd want that shawl!"  Daisy exclaimed.
+
+"Well I do!" her mother answered with a little laugh.
+
+"Did you get Randolph to go to bed?" asked the young girl.
+
+"No; I couldn't induce him," said Mrs. Miller very gently.
+"He wants to talk to the waiter.  He likes to talk to that waiter."
+
+"I was telling Mr. Winterbourne," the young girl went on;
+and to the young man's ear her tone might have indicated
+that she had been uttering his name all her life.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Winterbourne; "I have the pleasure of knowing your son."
+
+Randolph's mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake.
+But at last she spoke.  "Well, I don't see how he lives!"
+
+"Anyhow, it isn't so bad as it was at Dover," said Daisy Miller.
+
+"And what occurred at Dover?"  Winterbourne asked.
+
+"He wouldn't go to bed at all.  I guess he sat up all night
+in the public parlor.  He wasn't in bed at twelve o'clock:
+I know that."
+
+"It was half-past twelve," declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis.
+
+"Does he sleep much during the day?"  Winterbourne demanded.
+
+"I guess he doesn't sleep much," Daisy rejoined.
+
+"I wish he would!" said her mother.  "It seems as if he couldn't."
+
+"I think he's real tiresome," Daisy pursued.
+
+Then, for some moments, there was silence.  "Well, Daisy Miller,"
+said the elder lady, presently, "I shouldn't think you'd want
+to talk against your own brother!"
+
+"Well, he IS tiresome, Mother," said Daisy, quite without
+the asperity of a retort.
+
+"He's only nine," urged Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Well, he wouldn't go to that castle," said the young girl.
+"I'm going there with Mr. Winterbourne."
+
+To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisy's mamma offered
+no response.  Winterbourne took for granted that she deeply
+disapproved of the projected excursion; but he said to himself
+that she was a simple, easily managed person, and that a few
+deferential protestations would take the edge from her displeasure.
+"Yes," he began; "your daughter has kindly allowed me the honor
+of being her guide."
+
+Mrs. Miller's wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of
+appealing air, to Daisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther,
+gently humming to herself.  "I presume you will go in the cars,"
+said her mother.
+
+"Yes, or in the boat," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, of course, I don't know," Mrs. Miller rejoined.
+"I have never been to that castle."
+
+"It is a pity you shouldn't go," said Winterbourne,
+beginning to feel reassured as to her opposition.
+And yet he was quite prepared to find that, as a matter of course,
+she meant to accompany her daughter.
+
+"We've been thinking ever so much about going," she pursued;
+"but it seems as if we couldn't. Of course Daisy--she wants
+to go round.  But there's a lady here--I don't know her name--
+she says she shouldn't think we'd want to go to see castles
+HERE; she should think we'd want to wait till we got
+to Italy.  It seems as if there would be so many there,"
+continued Mrs. Miller with an air of increasing confidence.
+"Of course we only want to see the principal ones.
+We visited several in England," she presently added.
+
+"Ah yes! in England there are beautiful castles," said Winterbourne.
+"But Chillon here, is very well worth seeing."
+
+"Well, if Daisy feels up to it--" said Mrs. Miller, in a tone
+impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise.
+"It seems as if there was nothing she wouldn't undertake."
+
+"Oh, I think she'll enjoy it!"  Winterbourne declared.
+And he desired more and more to make it a certainty that he was
+to have the privilege of a tete-a-tete with the young lady,
+who was still strolling along in front of them, softly vocalizing.
+"You are not disposed, madam," he inquired, "to undertake it yourself?"
+
+Daisy's mother looked at him an instant askance, and then walked
+forward in silence.  Then--"I guess she had better go alone,"
+she said simply.  Winterbourne observed to himself that this
+was a very different type of maternity from that of the vigilant
+matrons who massed themselves in the forefront of social
+intercourse in the dark old city at the other end of the lake.
+But his meditations were interrupted by hearing his name very
+distinctly pronounced by Mrs. Miller's unprotected daughter.
+
+"Mr. Winterbourne!" murmured Daisy.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" said the young man.
+
+"Don't you want to take me out in a boat?"
+
+"At present?" he asked.
+
+"Of course!" said Daisy.
+
+"Well, Annie Miller!" exclaimed her mother.
+
+"I beg you, madam, to let her go," said Winterbourne ardently;
+for he had never yet enjoyed the sensation of guiding
+through the summer starlight a skiff freighted with a fresh
+and beautiful young girl.
+
+"I shouldn't think she'd want to," said her mother.
+"I should think she'd rather go indoors."
+
+"I'm sure Mr. Winterbourne wants to take me," Daisy declared.
+"He's so awfully devoted!"
+
+"I will row you over to Chillon in the starlight."
+
+"I don't believe it!" said Daisy.
+
+"Well!" ejaculated the elder lady again.
+
+"You haven't spoken to me for half an hour," her daughter went on.
+
+"I have been having some very pleasant conversation with
+your mother," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, I want you to take me out in a boat!"  Daisy repeated.  They had
+all stopped, and she had turned round and was looking at Winterbourne.
+Her face wore a charming smile, her pretty eyes were gleaming,
+she was swinging her great fan about.  No; it's impossible to be prettier
+than that, thought Winterbourne.
+
+"There are half a dozen boats moored at that landing place," he said,
+pointing to certain steps which descended from the garden to the lake.
+"If you will do me the honor to accept my arm, we will go and select
+one of them."
+
+Daisy stood there smiling; she threw back her head and gave a little,
+light laugh.  "I like a gentleman to be formal!" she declared.
+
+"I assure you it's a formal offer."
+
+"I was bound I would make you say something," Daisy went on.
+
+"You see, it's not very difficult," said Winterbourne.
+"But I am afraid you are chaffing me."
+
+"I think not, sir," remarked Mrs. Miller very gently.
+
+"Do, then, let me give you a row," he said to the young girl.
+
+"It's quite lovely, the way you say that!" cried Daisy.
+
+"It will be still more lovely to do it."
+
+"Yes, it would be lovely!" said Daisy.  But she made no movement
+to accompany him; she only stood there laughing.
+
+"I should think you had better find out what time it is,"
+interposed her mother.
+
+"It is eleven o'clock, madam," said a voice, with a foreign accent,
+out of the neighboring darkness; and Winterbourne, turning, perceived
+the florid personage who was in attendance upon the two ladies.
+He had apparently just approached.
+
+"Oh, Eugenio," said Daisy, "I am going out in a boat!"
+
+Eugenio bowed.  "At eleven o'clock, mademoiselle?"
+
+"I am going with Mr. Winterbourne--this very minute."
+
+"Do tell her she can't," said Mrs. Miller to the courier.
+
+"I think you had better not go out in a boat, mademoiselle," Eugenio declared.
+
+Winterbourne wished to Heaven this pretty girl were not so familiar
+with her courier; but he said nothing.
+
+"I suppose you don't think it's proper!"  Daisy exclaimed.
+"Eugenio doesn't think anything's proper."
+
+"I am at your service," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Does mademoiselle propose to go alone?" asked Eugenio of Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Oh, no; with this gentleman!" answered Daisy's mamma.
+
+The courier looked for a moment at Winterbourne--the latter
+thought he was smiling--and then, solemnly, with a bow,
+"As mademoiselle pleases!" he said.
+
+"Oh, I hoped you would make a fuss!" said Daisy.
+"I don't care to go now."
+
+"I myself shall make a fuss if you don't go," said Winterbourne.
+
+"That's all I want--a little fuss!"  And the young girl began
+to laugh again.
+
+"Mr. Randolph has gone to bed!" the courier announced frigidly.
+
+"Oh, Daisy; now we can go!" said Mrs. Miller.
+
+Daisy turned away from Winterbourne, looking at him,
+smiling and fanning herself.  "Good night," she said;
+"I hope you are disappointed, or disgusted, or something!"
+
+He looked at her, taking the hand she offered him.
+"I am puzzled," he answered.
+
+"Well, I hope it won't keep you awake!" she said very smartly;
+and, under the escort of the privileged Eugenio, the two ladies
+passed toward the house.
+
+Winterbourne stood looking after them; he was indeed puzzled.
+He lingered beside the lake for a quarter of an hour, turning over
+the mystery of the young girl's sudden familiarities and caprices.
+But the only very definite conclusion he came to was that he should
+enjoy deucedly "going off" with her somewhere.
+
+Two days afterward he went off with her to the Castle of Chillon.
+He waited for her in the large hall of the hotel, where the couriers,
+the servants, the foreign tourists, were lounging about and staring.
+It was not the place he should have chosen, but she had appointed it.
+She came tripping downstairs, buttoning her long gloves,
+squeezing her folded parasol against her pretty figure,
+dressed in the perfection of a soberly elegant traveling costume.
+Winterbourne was a man of imagination and, as our ancestors
+used to say, sensibility; as he looked at her dress and,
+on the great staircase, her little rapid, confiding step,
+he felt as if there were something romantic going forward.
+He could have believed he was going to elope with her.
+He passed out with her among all the idle people that were
+assembled there; they were all looking at her very hard;
+she had begun to chatter as soon as she joined him.
+Winterbourne's preference had been that they should be
+conveyed to Chillon in a carriage; but she expressed a lively
+wish to go in the little steamer; she declared that she had
+a passion for steamboats.  There was always such a lovely
+breeze upon the water, and you saw such lots of people.
+The sail was not long, but Winterbourne's companion found time
+to say a great many things.  To the young man himself their
+little excursion was so much of an escapade--an adventure--
+that, even allowing for her habitual sense of freedom,
+he had some expectation of seeing her regard it in the same way.
+But it must be confessed that, in this particular,
+he was disappointed.  Daisy Miller was extremely animated,
+she was in charming spirits; but she was apparently not at
+all excited; she was not fluttered; she avoided neither his eyes
+nor those of anyone else; she blushed neither when she looked
+at him nor when she felt that people were looking at her.
+People continued to look at her a great deal, and Winterbourne took
+much satisfaction in his pretty companion's distinguished air.
+He had been a little afraid that she would talk loud, laugh overmuch,
+and even, perhaps, desire to move about the boat a good deal.
+But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling, with his
+eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place,
+she delivered herself of a great number of original reflections.
+It was the most charming garrulity he had ever heard.
+he had assented to the idea that she was "common"; but was she so,
+after all, or was he simply getting used to her commonness?
+Her conversation was chiefly of what metaphysicians term the
+objective cast, but every now and then it took a subjective turn.
+
+"What on EARTH are you so grave about?" she suddenly demanded,
+fixing her agreeable eyes upon Winterbourne's.
+
+"Am I grave?" he asked.  "I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear."
+
+"You look as if you were taking me to a funeral.  If that's a grin,
+your ears are very near together."
+
+"Should you like me to dance a hornpipe on the deck?"
+
+"Pray do, and I'll carry round your hat.  It will pay the expenses
+of our journey."
+
+"I never was better pleased in my life," murmured Winterbourne.
+
+She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh.
+"I like to make you say those things!  You're a queer mixture!"
+
+In the castle, after they had landed, the subjective element
+decidedly prevailed.  Daisy tripped about the vaulted chambers,
+rustled her skirts in the corkscrew staircases, flirted back with
+a pretty little cry and a shudder from the edge of the oubliettes,
+and turned a singularly well-shaped ear to everything that
+Winterbourne told her about the place.  But he saw that she
+cared very little for feudal antiquities and that the dusky
+traditions of Chillon made but a slight impression upon her.
+They had the good fortune to have been able to walk about without
+other companionship than that of the custodian; and Winterbourne
+arranged with this functionary that they should not be hurried--
+that they should linger and pause wherever they chose.  The custodian
+interpreted the bargain generously--Winterbourne, on his side,
+had been generous--and ended by leaving them quite to themselves.
+Miss Miller's observations were not remarkable for logical consistency;
+for anything she wanted to say she was sure to find a pretext.
+She found a great many pretexts in the rugged embrasures of Chillon
+for asking Winterbourne sudden questions about himself--his family,
+his previous history, his tastes, his habits, his intentions--and for
+supplying information upon corresponding points in her own personality.
+Of her own tastes, habits, and intentions Miss Miller was prepared
+to give the most definite, and indeed the most favorable account.
+
+"Well, I hope you know enough!" she said to her companion,
+after he had told her the history of the unhappy Bonivard.
+"I never saw a man that knew so much!"  The history of Bonivard
+had evidently, as they say, gone into one ear and out of the other.
+But Daisy went on to say that she wished Winterbourne would travel
+with them and "go round" with them; they might know something,
+in that case.  "Don't you want to come and teach Randolph?" she asked.
+Winterbourne said that nothing could possibly please him so much,
+but that he unfortunately other occupations.  "Other occupations?
+I don't believe it!" said Miss Daisy.  "What do you mean?
+You are not in business."  The young man admitted that he was not
+in business; but he had engagements which, even within a day or two,
+would force him to go back to Geneva.  "Oh, bother!" she said;
+"I don't believe it!" and she began to talk about something else.
+But a few moments later, when he was pointing out to her the pretty
+design of an antique fireplace, she broke out irrelevantly,
+"You don't mean to say you are going back to Geneva?"
+
+"It is a melancholy fact that I shall have to return to Geneva tomorrow."
+
+"Well, Mr. Winterbourne," said Daisy, "I think you're horrid!"
+
+"Oh, don't say such dreadful things!" said Winterbourne--"just
+at the last!"
+
+"The last!" cried the young girl; "I call it the first.  I have half
+a mind to leave you here and go straight back to the hotel alone."
+And for the next ten minutes she did nothing but call him horrid.
+Poor Winterbourne was fairly bewildered; no young lady had as yet done
+him the honor to be so agitated by the announcement of his movements.
+His companion, after this, ceased to pay any attention to the
+curiosities of Chillon or the beauties of the lake; she opened fire
+upon the mysterious charmer in Geneva whom she appeared to have
+instantly taken it for granted that he was hurrying back to see.
+How did Miss Daisy Miller know that there was a charmer in Geneva?
+Winterbourne, who denied the existence of such a person,
+was quite unable to discover, and he was divided between amazement
+at the rapidity of her induction and amusement at the frankness
+of her persiflage.  She seemed to him, in all this,
+an extraordinary mixture of innocence and crudity.  "Does she never
+allow you more than three days at a time?" asked Daisy ironically.
+"Doesn't she give you a vacation in summer?  There's no one so hard
+worked but they can get leave to go off somewhere at this season.
+I suppose, if you stay another day, she'll come after you in the boat.
+Do wait over till Friday, and I will go down to the landing to see
+her arrive!"  Winterbourne began to think he had been wrong to feel
+disappointed in the temper in which the young lady had embarked.
+If he had missed the personal accent, the personal accent was
+now making its appearance.  It sounded very distinctly, at last,
+in her telling him she would stop "teasing" him if he would promise
+her solemnly to come down to Rome in the winter.
+
+"That's not a difficult promise to make," said Winterbourne.
+"My aunt has taken an apartment in Rome for the winter and has
+already asked me to come and see her."
+
+"I don't want you to come for your aunt," said Daisy; "I want you
+to come for me."  And this was the only allusion that the young
+man was ever to hear her make to his invidious kinswoman.
+He declared that, at any rate, he would certainly come.
+After this Daisy stopped teasing.  Winterbourne took a carriage,
+and they drove back to Vevey in the dusk; the young girl
+was very quiet.
+
+In the evening Winterbourne mentioned to Mrs. Costello that he had spent
+the afternoon at Chillon with Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"The Americans--of the courier?" asked this lady.
+
+"Ah, happily," said Winterbourne, "the courier stayed at home."
+
+"She went with you all alone?"
+
+"All alone."
+
+Mrs. Costello sniffed a little at her smelling bottle.
+"And that," she exclaimed, "is the young person whom you wanted
+me to know!"
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+Winterbourne, who had returned to Geneva the day after his
+excursion to Chillon, went to Rome toward the end of January.
+His aunt had been established there for several weeks,
+and he had received a couple of letters from her.
+"Those people you were so devoted to last summer at Vevey
+have turned up here, courier and all," she wrote.
+"They seem to have made several acquaintances, but the courier
+continues to be the most intime.  The young lady, however,
+is also very intimate with some third-rate Italians,
+with whom she rackets about in a way that makes much talk.
+Bring me that pretty novel of Cherbuliez's--Paule Mere--
+and don't come later than the 23rd."
+
+In the natural course of events, Winterbourne, on arriving in Rome,
+would presently have ascertained Mrs. Miller's address at the American
+banker's and have gone to pay his compliments to Miss Daisy.
+"After what happened at Vevey, I think I may certainly call upon them,"
+he said to Mrs. Costello.
+
+"If, after what happens--at Vevey and everywhere--you desire to keep up
+the acquaintance, you are very welcome.  Of course a man may know everyone.
+Men are welcome to the privilege!"
+
+"Pray what is it that happens--here, for instance?"  Winterbourne demanded.
+
+"The girl goes about alone with her foreigners.  As to what
+happens further, you must apply elsewhere for information.
+She has picked up half a dozen of the regular Roman
+fortune hunters, and she takes them about to people's houses.
+When she comes to a party she brings with her a gentleman
+with a good deal of manner and a wonderful mustache."
+
+"And where is the mother?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea.  They are very dreadful people."
+
+Winterbourne meditated a moment.  "They are very ignorant--
+very innocent only.  Depend upon it they are not bad."
+
+"They are hopelessly vulgar," said Mrs. Costello.  "Whether or no being
+hopelessly vulgar is being 'bad' is a question for the metaphysicians.
+They are bad enough to dislike, at any rate; and for this short life
+that is quite enough."
+
+The news that Daisy Miller was surrounded by half a dozen wonderful
+mustaches checked Winterbourne's impulse to go straightway to see her.
+He had, perhaps, not definitely flattered himself that he had made
+an ineffaceable impression upon her heart, but he was annoyed at hearing
+of a state of affairs so little in harmony with an image that had lately
+flitted in and out of his own meditations; the image of a very pretty
+girl looking out of an old Roman window and asking herself urgently
+when Mr. Winterbourne would arrive.  If, however, he determined to wait
+a little before reminding Miss Miller of his claims to her consideration,
+he went very soon to call upon two or three other friends.
+One of these friends was an American lady who had spent several
+winters at Geneva, where she had placed her children at school.
+She was a very accomplished woman, and she lived in the Via Gregoriana.
+Winterbourne found her in a little crimson drawing room on a third floor;
+the room was filled with southern sunshine.  He had not been there ten minutes
+when the servant came in, announcing "Madame Mila!"  This announcement
+was presently followed by the entrance of little Randolph Miller,
+who stopped in the middle of the room and stood staring at Winterbourne.
+An instant later his pretty sister crossed the threshold; and then,
+after a considerable interval, Mrs. Miller slowly advanced.
+
+"I know you!" said Randolph.
+
+"I'm sure you know a great many things," exclaimed Winterbourne,
+taking him by the hand.  "How is your education coming on?"
+
+Daisy was exchanging greetings very prettily with her hostess,
+but when she heard Winterbourne's voice she quickly turned her head.
+"Well, I declare!" she said.
+
+"I told you I should come, you know," Winterbourne rejoined, smiling.
+
+"Well, I didn't believe it," said Miss Daisy.
+
+"I am much obliged to you," laughed the young man.
+
+"You might have come to see me!" said Daisy.
+
+"I arrived only yesterday."
+
+"I don't believe that!" the young girl declared.
+
+Winterbourne turned with a protesting smile to her mother, but this
+lady evaded his glance, and, seating herself, fixed her eyes upon
+her son.  "We've got a bigger place than this," said Randolph.
+"It's all gold on the walls."
+
+Mrs. Miller turned uneasily in her chair.  "I told you if I were to bring you,
+you would say something!" she murmured.
+
+"I told YOU!" Randolph exclaimed.  "I tell YOU, sir!"
+he added jocosely, giving Winterbourne a thump on the knee.
+"It IS bigger, too!"
+
+Daisy had entered upon a lively conversation with her hostess;
+Winterbourne judged it becoming to address a few words to her mother.
+"I hope you have been well since we parted at Vevey," he said.
+
+Mrs. Miller now certainly looked at him--at his chin.
+"Not very well, sir," she answered.
+
+"She's got the dyspepsia," said Randolph.  "I've got it too.
+Father's got it.  I've got it most!"
+
+This announcement, instead of embarrassing Mrs. Miller,
+seemed to relieve her.  "I suffer from the liver," she said.
+"I think it's this climate; it's less bracing than Schenectady,
+especially in the winter season.  I don't know whether you know
+we reside at Schenectady.  I was saying to Daisy that I certainly
+hadn't found any one like Dr. Davis, and I didn't believe I should.
+Oh, at Schenectady he stands first; they think everything of him.
+He has so much to do, and yet there was nothing he wouldn't do for me.
+He said he never saw anything like my dyspepsia, but he was
+bound to cure it.  I'm sure there was nothing he wouldn't try.
+He was just going to try something new when we came off.
+Mr. Miller wanted Daisy to see Europe for herself.  But I wrote to
+Mr. Miller that it seems as if I couldn't get on without Dr. Davis.
+At Schenectady he stands at the very top; and there's a great deal
+of sickness there, too.  It affects my sleep."
+
+Winterbourne had a good deal of pathological gossip with Dr. Davis's patient,
+during which Daisy chattered unremittingly to her own companion.
+The young man asked Mrs. Miller how she was pleased with Rome.
+"Well, I must say I am disappointed," she answered.  "We had heard so much
+about it; I suppose we had heard too much.  But we couldn't help that.
+We had been led to expect something different."
+
+"Ah, wait a little, and you will become very fond of it," said Winterbourne.
+
+"I hate it worse and worse every day!" cried Randolph.
+
+"You are like the infant Hannibal," said Winterbourne.
+
+"No, I ain't!" Randolph declared at a venture.
+
+"You are not much like an infant," said his mother.  "But we have
+seen places," she resumed, "that I should put a long way before Rome."
+And in reply to Winterbourne's interrogation, "There's Zurich,"
+she concluded, "I think Zurich is lovely; and we hadn't heard half
+so much about it."
+
+"The best place we've seen is the City of Richmond!" said Randolph.
+
+"He means the ship," his mother explained.  "We crossed in that ship.
+Randolph had a good time on the City of Richmond."
+
+"It's the best place I've seen," the child repeated.
+"Only it was turned the wrong way."
+
+"Well, we've got to turn the right way some time,"
+said Mrs. Miller with a little laugh.  Winterbourne expressed
+the hope that her daughter at least found some gratification
+in Rome, and she declared that Daisy was quite carried away.
+"It's on account of the society--the society's splendid.
+She goes round everywhere; she has made a great number
+of acquaintances.  Of course she goes round more than I do.
+I must say they have been very sociable; they have taken
+her right in.  And then she knows a great many gentlemen.
+Oh, she thinks there's nothing like Rome.  Of course,
+it's a great deal pleasanter for a young lady if she knows
+plenty of gentlemen."
+
+By this time Daisy had turned her attention again to Winterbourne.
+"I've been telling Mrs. Walker how mean you were!" the young girl announced.
+
+"And what is the evidence you have offered?" asked Winterbourne,
+rather annoyed at Miss Miller's want of appreciation of the zeal of
+an admirer who on his way down to Rome had stopped neither at Bologna
+nor at Florence, simply because of a certain sentimental impatience.
+He remembered that a cynical compatriot had once told him that
+American women--the pretty ones, and this gave a largeness to the axiom--
+were at once the most exacting in the world and the least endowed
+with a sense of indebtedness.
+
+"Why, you were awfully mean at Vevey," said Daisy.
+"You wouldn't do anything.  You wouldn't stay there when
+I asked you."
+
+"My dearest young lady," cried Winterbourne, with eloquence,
+"have I come all the way to Rome to encounter your reproaches?"
+
+"Just hear him say that!" said Daisy to her hostess, giving a twist to a bow
+on this lady's dress.  "Did you ever hear anything so quaint?"
+
+"So quaint, my dear?" murmured Mrs. Walker in the tone of a
+partisan of Winterbourne.
+
+"Well, I don't know," said Daisy, fingering Mrs. Walker's ribbons.
+"Mrs. Walker, I want to tell you something."
+
+"Mother-r," interposed Randolph, with his rough ends to his words,
+"I tell you you've got to go.  Eugenio'll raise--something!"
+
+"I'm not afraid of Eugenio," said Daisy with a toss of her head.
+"Look here, Mrs. Walker," she went on, "you know I'm coming
+to your party."
+
+"I am delighted to hear it."
+
+"I've got a lovely dress!"
+
+"I am very sure of that."
+
+"But I want to ask a favor--permission to bring a friend."
+
+"I shall be happy to see any of your friends," said Mrs. Walker,
+turning with a smile to Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Oh, they are not my friends," answered Daisy's mamma,
+smiling shyly in her own fashion.  "I never spoke to them."
+
+"It's an intimate friend of mine--Mr. Giovanelli," said Daisy without a tremor
+in her clear little voice or a shadow on her brilliant little face.
+
+Mrs. Walker was silent a moment; she gave a rapid glance at Winterbourne.
+"I shall be glad to see Mr. Giovanelli," she then said.
+
+"He's an Italian," Daisy pursued with the prettiest serenity.
+"He's a great friend of mine; he's the handsomest man in the world--
+except Mr. Winterbourne!  He knows plenty of Italians, but he wants
+to know some Americans.  He thinks ever so much of Americans.
+He's tremendously clever.  He's perfectly lovely!"
+
+It was settled that this brilliant personage should be brought to
+Mrs. Walker's party, and then Mrs. Miller prepared to take her leave.
+"I guess we'll go back to the hotel," she said.
+
+"You may go back to the hotel, Mother, but I'm going to take
+a walk," said Daisy.
+
+"She's going to walk with Mr. Giovanelli," Randolph proclaimed.
+
+"I am going to the Pincio," said Daisy, smiling.
+
+"Alone, my dear--at this hour?"  Mrs. Walker asked.
+The afternoon was drawing to a close--it was the hour for
+the throng of carriages and of contemplative pedestrians.
+"I don't think it's safe, my dear," said Mrs. Walker.
+
+"Neither do I," subjoined Mrs. Miller.  "You'll get the fever,
+as sure as you live.  Remember what Dr. Davis told you!"
+
+"Give her some medicine before she goes," said Randolph.
+
+The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty teeth,
+bent over and kissed her hostess.  "Mrs. Walker, you are too perfect,"
+she said.  "I'm not going alone; I am going to meet a friend."
+
+"Your friend won't keep you from getting the fever,"
+Mrs. Miller observed.
+
+"Is it Mr. Giovanelli?" asked the hostess.
+
+Winterbourne was watching the young girl; at this question his
+attention quickened.  She stood there, smiling and smoothing
+her bonnet ribbons; she glanced at Winterbourne.  Then, while she
+glanced and smiled, she answered, without a shade of hesitation,
+"Mr. Giovanelli--the beautiful Giovanelli."
+
+"My dear young friend," said Mrs. Walker, taking her hand pleadingly,
+"don't walk off to the Pincio at this hour to meet a beautiful Italian."
+
+"Well, he speaks English," said Mrs. Miller.
+
+"Gracious me!"  Daisy exclaimed, "I don't to do anything improper.
+There's an easy way to settle it."  She continued to glance at Winterbourne.
+"The Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr. Winterbourne
+were as polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with me!"
+
+Winterbourne's politeness hastened to affirm itself,
+and the young girl gave him gracious leave to accompany her.
+They passed downstairs before her mother, and at the door Winterbourne
+perceived Mrs. Miller's carriage drawn up, with the ornamental
+courier whose acquaintance he had made at Vevey seated within.
+"Goodbye, Eugenio!" cried Daisy; "I'm going to take a walk."
+The distance from the Via Gregoriana to the beautiful
+garden at the other end of the Pincian Hill is, in fact,
+rapidly traversed.  As the day was splendid, however, and the
+concourse of vehicles, walkers, and loungers numerous,
+the young Americans found their progress much delayed.
+This fact was highly agreeable to Winterbourne, in spite of his
+consciousness of his singular situation.  The slow-moving, idly
+gazing Roman crowd bestowed much attention upon the extremely
+pretty young foreign lady who was passing through it upon his arm;
+and he wondered what on earth had been in Daisy's mind when she
+proposed to expose herself, unattended, to its appreciation.
+His own mission, to her sense, apparently, was to consign
+her to the hands of Mr. Giovanelli; but Winterbourne, at once
+annoyed and gratified, resolved that he would do no such thing.
+
+"Why haven't you been to see me?" asked Daisy.  "You can't
+get out of that."
+
+"I have had the honor of telling you that I have only just stepped
+out of the train."
+
+"You must have stayed in the train a good while after it stopped!"
+cried the young girl with her little laugh.  "I suppose you were asleep.
+You have had time to go to see Mrs. Walker."
+
+"I knew Mrs. Walker--" Winterbourne began to explain.
+
+"I know where you knew her.  You knew her at Geneva.
+She told me so.  Well, you knew me at Vevey.  That's just as good.
+So you ought to have come."  She asked him no other question
+than this; she began to prattle about her own affairs.
+"We've got splendid rooms at the hotel; Eugenio says they're
+the best rooms in Rome.  We are going to stay all winter,
+if we don't die of the fever; and I guess we'll stay then.
+It's a great deal nicer than I thought; I thought it would
+be fearfully quiet; I was sure it would be awfully poky.
+I was sure we should be going round all the time with one of those
+dreadful old men that explain about the pictures and things.
+But we only had about a week of that, and now I'm enjoying myself.
+I know ever so many people, and they are all so charming.
+The society's extremely select.  There are all kinds--English,
+and Germans, and Italians.  I think I like the English best.
+I like their style of conversation.  But there are some
+lovely Americans.  I never saw anything so hospitable.
+There's something or other every day.  There's not much dancing;
+but I must say I never thought dancing was everything.
+I was always fond of conversation.  I guess I shall
+have plenty at Mrs. Walker's, her rooms are so small."
+When they had passed the gate of the Pincian Gardens,
+Miss Miller began to wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might be.
+"We had better go straight to that place in front," she said,
+"where you look at the view."
+
+"I certainly shall not help you to find him," Winterbourne declared.
+
+"Then I shall find him without you," cried Miss Daisy.
+
+"You certainly won't leave me!" cried Winterbourne.
+
+She burst into her little laugh.  "Are you afraid you'll get lost--
+or run over?  But there's Giovanelli, leaning against that tree.
+He's staring at the women in the carriages:  did you ever see
+anything so cool?"
+
+Winterbourne perceived at some distance a little man standing with
+folded arms nursing his cane.  He had a handsome face, an artfully
+poised hat, a glass in one eye, and a nosegay in his buttonhole.
+Winterbourne looked at him a moment and then said, "Do you mean
+to speak to that man?"
+
+"Do I mean to speak to him?  Why, you don't suppose I mean
+to communicate by signs?"
+
+"Pray understand, then," said Winterbourne, "that I intend
+to remain with you."
+
+Daisy stopped and looked at him, without a sign of troubled
+consciousness in her face, with nothing but the presence of her
+charming eyes and her happy dimples.  "Well, she's a cool one!"
+thought the young man.
+
+"I don't like the way you say that," said Daisy.
+"It's too imperious."
+
+"I beg your pardon if I say it wrong.  The main point is to give
+you an idea of my meaning."
+
+The young girl looked at him more gravely, but with eyes that were
+prettier than ever.  "I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me,
+or to interfere with anything I do."
+
+"I think you have made a mistake," said Winterbourne.
+"You should sometimes listen to a gentleman--the right one."
+
+Daisy began to laugh again.  "I do nothing but listen to gentlemen!"
+she exclaimed.  "Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?"
+
+The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two friends,
+and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity.  He bowed to
+Winterbourne as well as to the latter's companion; he had a brilliant smile,
+an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a bad-looking fellow.
+But he nevertheless said to Daisy, "No, he's not the right one."
+
+Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions;
+she mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other.
+She strolled alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli,
+who spoke English very cleverly--Winterbourne afterward learned
+that he had practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses--
+addressed her a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely
+urbane, and the young American, who said nothing, reflected upon
+that profundity of Italian cleverness which enables people to appear
+more gracious in proportion as they are more acutely disappointed.
+Giovanelli, of course, had counted upon something more intimate;
+he had not bargained for a party of three.  But he kept his
+temper in a manner which suggested far-stretching intentions.
+Winterbourne flattered himself that he had taken his measure.
+"He is not a gentleman," said the young American;
+"he is only a clever imitation of one.  He is a music master,
+or a penny-a-liner, or a third-rate artist.  D__n his good looks!"
+Mr. Giovanelli had certainly a very pretty face; but Winterbourne felt
+a superior indignation at his own lovely fellow countrywoman's not
+knowing the difference between a spurious gentleman and a real one.
+Giovanelli chattered and jested and made himself wonderfully agreeable.
+It was true that, if he was an imitation, the imitation was brilliant.
+"Nevertheless," Winterbourne said to himself, "a nice girl ought to know!"
+And then he came back to the question whether this was, in fact,
+a nice girl.  Would a nice girl, even allowing for her being a little
+American flirt, make a rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner?
+The rendezvous in this case, indeed, had been in broad daylight and in
+the most crowded corner of Rome, but was it not impossible to regard
+the choice of these circumstances as a proof of extreme cynicism?
+Singular though it may seem, Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl,
+in joining her amoroso, should not appear more impatient
+of his own company, and he was vexed because of his inclination.
+It was impossible to regard her as a perfectly well-conducted
+young lady; she was wanting in a certain indispensable delicacy.
+It would therefore simplify matters greatly to be able to treat
+her as the object of one of those sentiments which are called by
+romancers "lawless passions."  That she should seem to wish to get rid
+of him would help him to think more lightly of her, and to be able
+to think more lightly of her would make her much less perplexing.
+But Daisy, on this occasion, continued to present herself as an
+inscrutable combination of audacity and innocence.
+
+She had been walking some quarter of an hour, attended by her
+two cavaliers, and responding in a tone of very childish gaiety,
+as it seemed to Winterbourne, to the pretty speeches
+of Mr. Giovanelli, when a carriage that had detached
+itself from the revolving train drew up beside the path.
+At the same moment Winterbourne perceived that his friend
+Mrs. Walker--the lady whose house he had lately left--
+was seated in the vehicle and was beckoning to him.
+Leaving Miss Miller's side, he hastened to obey her summons.
+Mrs. Walker was flushed; she wore an excited air.
+"It is really too dreadful," she said.  "That girl must not do
+this sort of thing.  She must not walk here with you two men.
+Fifty people have noticed her."
+
+Winterbourne raised his eyebrows.  "I think it's a pity to make
+too much fuss about it."
+
+"It's a pity to let the girl ruin herself!"
+
+"She is very innocent," said Winterbourne.
+
+"She's very crazy!" cried Mrs. Walker.  "Did you ever see
+anything so imbecile as her mother?  After you had all left
+me just now, I could not sit still for thinking of it.
+It seemed too pitiful, not even to attempt to save her.
+I ordered the carriage and put on my bonnet, and came here
+as quickly as possible.  Thank Heaven I have found you!"
+
+"What do you propose to do with us?" asked Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+"To ask her to get in, to drive her about here for half an hour,
+so that the world may see she is not running absolutely wild,
+and then to take her safely home."
+
+"I don't think it's a very happy thought," said Winterbourne;
+"but you can try."
+
+Mrs. Walker tried.  The young man went in pursuit of Miss Miller,
+who had simply nodded and smiled at his interlocutor in the carriage
+and had gone her way with her companion.  Daisy, on learning
+that Mrs. Walker wished to speak to her, retraced her steps
+with a perfect good grace and with Mr. Giovanelli at her side.
+She declared that she was delighted to have a chance to present this
+gentleman to Mrs. Walker.  She immediately achieved the introduction,
+and declared that she had never in her life seen anything so lovely
+as Mrs. Walker's carriage rug.
+
+"I am glad you admire it," said this lady, smiling sweetly.
+"Will you get in and let me put it over you?"
+
+"Oh, no, thank you," said Daisy.  "I shall admire it much more as I see you
+driving round with it."
+
+"Do get in and drive with me!" said Mrs. Walker.
+
+"That would be charming, but it's so enchanting just as I am!"
+and Daisy gave a brilliant glance at the gentlemen on either
+side of her.
+
+"It may be enchanting, dear child, but it is not the custom here,"
+urged Mrs. Walker, leaning forward in her victoria, with her
+hands devoutly clasped.
+
+"Well, it ought to be, then!" said Daisy.  "If I didn't walk
+I should expire."
+
+"You should walk with your mother, dear," cried the lady
+from Geneva, losing patience.
+
+"With my mother dear!" exclaimed the young girl.  Winterbourne saw that she
+scented interference.  "My mother never walked ten steps in her life.
+And then, you know," she added with a laugh, "I am more than five years old."
+
+"You are old enough to be more reasonable.  You are old enough,
+dear Miss Miller, to be talked about."
+
+Daisy looked at Mrs. Walker, smiling intensely.  "Talked about?
+What do you mean?"
+
+"Come into my carriage, and I will tell you."
+
+Daisy turned her quickened glance again from one of the gentlemen beside her
+to the other.  Mr. Giovanelli was bowing to and fro, rubbing down his gloves
+and laughing very agreeably; Winterbourne thought it a most unpleasant scene.
+"I don't think I want to know what you mean," said Daisy presently.
+"I don't think I should like it."
+
+Winterbourne wished that Mrs. Walker would tuck in her carriage rug and drive
+away, but this lady did not enjoy being defied, as she afterward told him.
+"Should you prefer being thought a very reckless girl?" she demanded.
+
+"Gracious!" exclaimed Daisy.  She looked again at Mr. Giovanelli,
+then she turned to Winterbourne.  There was a little pink flush in
+her cheek; she was tremendously pretty.  "Does Mr. Winterbourne think,"
+she asked slowly, smiling, throwing back her head, and glancing
+at him from head to foot, "that, to save my reputation, I ought
+to get into the carriage?"
+
+Winterbourne colored; for an instant he hesitated greatly.
+It seemed so strange to hear her speak that way of her "reputation."
+But he himself, in fact, must speak in accordance with gallantry.
+The finest gallantry, here, was simply to tell her the truth;
+and the truth, for Winterbourne, as the few indications I
+have been able to give have made him known to the reader,
+was that Daisy Miller should take Mrs. Walker's advice.
+He looked at her exquisite prettiness, and then he said,
+very gently, "I think you should get into the carriage."
+
+Daisy gave a violent laugh.  "I never heard anything so stiff!
+If this is improper, Mrs. Walker," she pursued, "then I am all improper,
+and you must give me up.  Goodbye; I hope you'll have a lovely ride!"
+and, with Mr. Giovanelli, who made a triumphantly obsequious salute,
+she turned away.
+
+Mrs. Walker sat looking after her, and there were tears in
+Mrs. Walker's eyes.  "Get in here, sir," she said to Winterbourne,
+indicating the place beside her.  The young man answered that he felt
+bound to accompany Miss Miller, whereupon Mrs. Walker declared that
+if he refused her this favor she would never speak to him again.
+She was evidently in earnest.  Winterbourne overtook Daisy and
+her companion, and, offering the young girl his hand, told her
+that Mrs. Walker had made an imperious claim upon his society.
+He expected that in answer she would say something rather free,
+something to commit herself still further to that "recklessness"
+from which Mrs. Walker had so charitably endeavored to dissuade her.
+But she only shook his hand, hardly looking at him, while Mr. Giovanelli
+bade him farewell with a too emphatic flourish of the hat.
+
+Winterbourne was not in the best possible humor as he took his seat in
+Mrs. Walker's victoria.  "That was not clever of you," he said candidly,
+while the vehicle mingled again with the throng of carriages.
+
+"In such a case," his companion answered, "I don't wish to be clever;
+I wish to be EARNEST!"
+
+"Well, your earnestness has only offended her and put her off."
+
+"It has happened very well," said Mrs. Walker.  "If she is so perfectly
+determined to compromise herself, the sooner one knows it the better;
+one can act accordingly."
+
+"I suspect she meant no harm," Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+"So I thought a month ago.  But she has been going too far."
+
+"What has she been doing?"
+
+"Everything that is not done here.  Flirting with any man she could pick up;
+sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening
+with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o'clock at night.
+Her mother goes away when visitors come."
+
+"But her brother," said Winterbourne, laughing, "sits up till midnight."
+
+"He must be edified by what he sees.  I'm told that at their hotel
+everyone is talking about her, and that a smile goes round among
+all the servants when a gentleman comes and asks for Miss Miller."
+
+"The servants be hanged!" said Winterbourne angrily.
+"The poor girl's only fault," he presently added, "is that she
+is very uncultivated."
+
+"She is naturally indelicate," Mrs. Walker declared.
+
+"Take that example this morning.  How long had you known her at Vevey?"
+
+"A couple of days."
+
+"Fancy, then, her making it a personal matter that you should have
+left the place!"
+
+Winterbourne was silent for some moments; then he said, "I suspect,
+Mrs. Walker, that you and I have lived too long at Geneva!"
+And he added a request that she should inform him with what particular
+design she had made him enter her carriage.
+
+"I wished to beg you to cease your relations with Miss Miller--
+not to flirt with her--to give her no further opportunity
+to expose herself--to let her alone, in short."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Winterbourne.
+"I like her extremely."
+
+"All the more reason that you shouldn't help her to make a scandal."
+
+"There shall be nothing scandalous in my attentions to her."
+
+"There certainly will be in the way she takes them.
+But I have said what I had on my conscience," Mrs. Walker pursued.
+"If you wish to rejoin the young lady I will put you down.
+Here, by the way, you have a chance."
+
+The carriage was traversing that part of the Pincian
+Garden that overhangs the wall of Rome and overlooks
+the beautiful Villa Borghese.  It is bordered by a
+large parapet, near which there are several seats.
+One of the seats at a distance was occupied by a gentleman
+and a lady, toward whom Mrs. Walker gave a toss of her head.
+At the same moment these persons rose and walked toward
+the parapet.  Winterbourne had asked the coachman to stop;
+he now descended from the carriage.  His companion looked
+at him a moment in silence; then, while he raised his hat,
+she drove majestically away.  Winterbourne stood there;
+he had turned his eyes toward Daisy and her cavalier.
+They evidently saw no one; they were too deeply occupied
+with each other.  When they reached the low garden wall,
+they stood a moment looking off at the great flat-topped
+pine clusters of the Villa Borghese; then Giovanelli
+seated himself, familiarly, upon the broad ledge of the wall.
+The western sun in the opposite sky sent out a brilliant
+shaft through a couple of cloud bars, whereupon Daisy's
+companion took her parasol out of her hands and opened it.
+She came a little nearer, and he held the parasol over her;
+then, still holding it, he let it rest upon her shoulder,
+so that both of their heads were hidden from Winterbourne.
+This young man lingered a moment, then he began to walk.
+But he walked--not toward the couple with the parasol;
+toward the residence of his aunt, Mrs. Costello.
+
+He flattered himself on the following day that there was no smiling
+among the servants when he, at least, asked for Mrs. Miller at
+her hotel.  This lady and her daughter, however, were not at home;
+and on the next day after, repeating his visit, Winterbourne again
+had the misfortune not to find them.  Mrs. Walker's party took place
+on the evening of the third day, and, in spite of the frigidity of his
+last interview with the hostess, Winterbourne was among the guests.
+Mrs. Walker was one of those American ladies who, while residing abroad,
+make a point, in their own phrase, of studying European society,
+and she had on this occasion collected several specimens of her
+diversely born fellow mortals to serve, as it were, as textbooks.
+When Winterbourne arrived, Daisy Miller was not there, but in a few
+moments he saw her mother come in alone, very shyly and ruefully.
+Mrs. Miller's hair above her exposed-looking temples was more frizzled
+than ever.  As she approached Mrs. Walker, Winterbourne also drew near.
+
+"You see, I've come all alone," said poor Mrs. Miller.
+"I'm so frightened; I don't know what to do.  It's the first time
+I've ever been to a party alone, especially in this country.
+I wanted to bring Randolph or Eugenio, or someone, but Daisy just
+pushed me off by myself.  I ain't used to going round alone."
+
+"And does not your daughter intend to favor us with her society?"
+demanded Mrs. Walker impressively.
+
+"Well, Daisy's all dressed," said Mrs. Miller with that accent of
+the dispassionate, if not of the philosophic, historian with which she
+always recorded the current incidents of her daughter's career.
+"She got dressed on purpose before dinner.  But she's got a friend
+of hers there; that gentleman--the Italian--that she wanted to bring.
+They've got going at the piano; it seems as if they couldn't leave off.
+Mr. Giovanelli sings splendidly.  But I guess they'll come before very long,"
+concluded Mrs. Miller hopefully.
+
+"I'm sorry she should come in that way," said Mrs. Walker.
+
+"Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
+dinner if she was going to wait three hours," responded Daisy's mamma.
+"I didn't see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit
+round with Mr. Giovanelli."
+
+"This is most horrible!" said Mrs. Walker, turning away and
+addressing herself to Winterbourne.  "Elle s'affiche. It's
+her revenge for my having ventured to remonstrate with her.
+When she comes, I shall not speak to her."
+
+Daisy came after eleven o'clock; but she was not,
+on such an occasion, a young lady to wait to be spoken to.
+She rustled forward in radiant loveliness, smiling and chattering,
+carrying a large bouquet, and attended by Mr. Giovanelli.
+Everyone stopped talking and turned and looked at her.
+She came straight to Mrs. Walker.  "I'm afraid you thought
+I never was coming, so I sent mother off to tell you.
+I wanted to make Mr. Giovanelli practice some things before he came;
+you know he sings beautifully, and I want you to ask him to sing.
+This is Mr. Giovanelli; you know I introduced him to you;
+he's got the most lovely voice, and he knows the most charming
+set of songs.  I made him go over them this evening on purpose;
+we had the greatest time at the hotel."  Of all this Daisy delivered
+herself with the sweetest, brightest audibleness, looking now
+at her hostess and now round the room, while she gave a series
+of little pats, round her shoulders, to the edges of her dress.
+"Is there anyone I know?" she asked.
+
+"I think every one knows you!" said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she
+gave a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli.  This gentleman bore
+himself gallantly.  He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth;
+he curled his mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all
+the proper functions of a handsome Italian at an evening party.
+He sang very prettily half a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward
+declared that she had been quite unable to find out who asked him.
+It was apparently not Daisy who had given him his orders.
+Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and though she had publicly,
+as it were, professed a high admiration for his singing, talked,
+not inaudibly, while it was going on.
+
+"It's a pity these rooms are so small; we can't dance," she said
+to Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
+
+"I am not sorry we can't dance," Winterbourne answered;
+"I don't dance."
+
+"Of course you don't dance; you're too stiff," said Miss Daisy.
+"I hope you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!"
+
+"No. I didn't enjoy it; I preferred walking with you."
+
+"We paired off:  that was much better," said Daisy.
+"But did you ever hear anything so cool as Mrs. Walker's
+wanting me to get into her carriage and drop poor
+Mr. Giovanelli, and under the pretext that it was proper?
+People have different ideas!  It would have been most unkind;
+he had been talking about that walk for ten days."
+
+"He should not have talked about it at all," said Winterbourne;
+"he would never have proposed to a young lady of this country
+to walk about the streets with him."
+
+"About the streets?" cried Daisy with her pretty stare.
+"Where, then, would he have proposed to her to walk?
+The Pincio is not the streets, either; and I, thank goodness,
+am not a young lady of this country.  The young ladies of this
+country have a dreadfully poky time of it, so far as I can learn;
+I don't see why I should change my habits for THEM."
+
+"I am afraid your habits are those of a flirt," said Winterbourne gravely.
+
+"Of course they are," she cried, giving him her little smiling stare again.
+"I'm a fearful, frightful flirt!  Did you ever hear of a nice girl that
+was not?  But I suppose you will tell me now that I am not a nice girl."
+
+"You're a very nice girl; but I wish you would flirt with me,
+and me only," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Ah! thank you--thank you very much; you are the last man I should
+think of flirting with.  As I have had the pleasure of informing you,
+you are too stiff."
+
+"You say that too often," said Winterbourne.
+
+Daisy gave a delighted laugh.  "If I could have the sweet hope of making
+you angry, I should say it again."
+
+"Don't do that; when I am angry I'm stiffer than ever.
+But if you won't flirt with me, do cease, at least, to flirt
+with your friend at the piano; they don't understand that sort
+of thing here."
+
+"I thought they understood nothing else!" exclaimed Daisy.
+
+"Not in young unmarried women."
+
+"It seems to me much more proper in young unmarried women than in old
+married ones," Daisy declared.
+
+"Well," said Winterbourne, "when you deal with natives you must go
+by the custom of the place.  Flirting is a purely American custom;
+it doesn't exist here.  So when you show yourself in public with
+Mr. Giovanelli, and without your mother--"
+
+"Gracious! poor Mother!" interposed Daisy.
+
+"Though you may be flirting, Mr. Giovanelli is not;
+he means something else."
+
+"He isn't preaching, at any rate," said Daisy with vivacity.
+"And if you want very much to know, we are neither of us flirting;
+we are too good friends for that:  we are very intimate friends."
+
+"Ah!" rejoined Winterbourne, "if you are in love with each other,
+it is another affair."
+
+She had allowed him up to this point to talk so frankly that
+he had no expectation of shocking her by this ejaculation;
+but she immediately got up, blushing visibly, and leaving
+him to exclaim mentally that little American flirts were
+the queerest creatures in the world.  "Mr. Giovanelli,
+at least," she said, giving her interlocutor a single glance,
+"never says such very disagreeable things to me."
+
+Winterbourne was bewildered; he stood, staring.  Mr. Giovanelli
+had finished singing.  He left the piano and came over to Daisy.
+"Won't you come into the other room and have some tea?" he asked,
+bending before her with his ornamental smile.
+
+Daisy turned to Winterbourne, beginning to smile again.  He was still
+more perplexed, for this inconsequent smile made nothing clear,
+though it seemed to prove, indeed, that she had a sweetness and
+softness that reverted instinctively to the pardon of offenses.
+"It has never occurred to Mr. Winterbourne to offer me any tea,"
+she said with her little tormenting manner.
+
+"I have offered you advice," Winterbourne rejoined.
+
+"I prefer weak tea!" cried Daisy, and she went off with the
+brilliant Giovanelli.  She sat with him in the adjoining room,
+in the embrasure of the window, for the rest of the evening.
+There was an interesting performance at the piano, but neither
+of these young people gave heed to it.  When Daisy came to take
+leave of Mrs. Walker, this lady conscientiously repaired
+the weakness of which she had been guilty at the moment of
+the young girl's arrival.  She turned her back straight upon
+Miss Miller and left her to depart with what grace she might.
+Winterbourne was standing near the door; he saw it all.
+Daisy turned very pale and looked at her mother, but Mrs. Miller
+was humbly unconscious of any violation of the usual social forms.
+She appeared, indeed, to have felt an incongruous impulse
+to draw attention to her own striking observance of them.
+"Good night, Mrs. Walker," she said; "we've had a beautiful evening.
+You see, if I let Daisy come to parties without me,
+I don't want her to go away without me."  Daisy turned away,
+looking with a pale, grave face at the circle near the door;
+Winterbourne saw that, for the first moment, she was
+too much shocked and puzzled even for indignation.
+He on his side was greatly touched.
+
+"That was very cruel," he said to Mrs. Walker.
+
+"She never enters my drawing room again!" replied his hostess.
+
+Since Winterbourne was not to meet her in Mrs. Walker's drawing room,
+he went as often as possible to Mrs. Miller's hotel.  The ladies
+were rarely at home, but when he found them, the devoted Giovanelli
+was always present.  Very often the brilliant little Roman was in the
+drawing room with Daisy alone, Mrs. Miller being apparently constantly
+of the opinion that discretion is the better part of surveillance.
+Winterbourne noted, at first with surprise, that Daisy on these
+occasions was never embarrassed or annoyed by his own entrance;
+but he very presently began to feel that she had no more surprises for him;
+the unexpected in her behavior was the only thing to expect.  She showed
+no displeasure at her tete-a-tete with Giovanelli being interrupted;
+she could chatter as freshly and freely with two gentlemen as with one;
+there was always, in her conversation, the same odd mixture of audacity
+and puerility.  Winterbourne remarked to himself that if she was
+seriously interested in Giovanelli, it was very singular that she should
+not take more trouble to preserve the sanctity of their interviews;
+and he liked her the more for her innocent-looking indifference
+and her apparently inexhaustible good humor.  He could hardly have
+said why, but she seemed to him a girl who would never be jealous.
+At the risk of exciting a somewhat derisive smile on the reader's part,
+I may affirm that with regard to the women who had hitherto interested him,
+it very often seemed to Winterbourne among the possibilities that, given
+certain contingencies, he should be afraid--literally afraid--of these ladies;
+he had a pleasant sense that he should never be afraid of Daisy Miller.
+It must be added that this sentiment was not altogether flattering to Daisy;
+it was part of his conviction, or rather of his apprehension, that she
+would prove a very light young person.
+
+But she was evidently very much interested in Giovanelli.
+She looked at him whenever he spoke; she was perpetually telling him
+to do this and to do that; she was constantly "chaffing" and abusing him.
+She appeared completely to have forgotten that Winterbourne had said anything
+to displease her at Mrs. Walker's little party.  One Sunday afternoon,
+having gone to St. Peter's with his aunt, Winterbourne perceived Daisy
+strolling about the great church in company with the inevitable Giovanelli.
+Presently he pointed out the young girl and her cavalier to Mrs. Costello.
+This lady looked at them a moment through her eyeglass, and then she said:
+
+"That's what makes you so pensive in these days, eh?"
+
+"I had not the least idea I was pensive," said the young man.
+
+"You are very much preoccupied; you are thinking of something."
+
+"And what is it," he asked, "that you accuse me of thinking of?"
+
+"Of that young lady's--Miss Baker's, Miss Chandler's--what's her name?--
+Miss Miller's intrigue with that little barber's block."
+
+"Do you call it an intrigue," Winterbourne asked--"an affair that goes
+on with such peculiar publicity?"
+
+"That's their folly," said Mrs. Costello; "it's not their merit."
+
+"No," rejoined Winterbourne, with something of that pensiveness
+to which his aunt had alluded.  "I don't believe that there
+is anything to be called an intrigue."
+
+"I have heard a dozen people speak of it; they say she is quite carried
+away by him."
+
+"They are certainly very intimate," said Winterbourne.
+
+Mrs. Costello inspected the young couple again with her optical instrument.
+"He is very handsome.  One easily sees how it is.  She thinks
+him the most elegant man in the world, the finest gentleman.
+She has never seen anything like him; he is better, even, than the courier.
+It was the courier probably who introduced him; and if he succeeds in marrying
+the young lady, the courier will come in for a magnificent commission."
+
+"I don't believe she thinks of marrying him," said Winterbourne,
+"and I don't believe he hopes to marry her."
+
+"You may be very sure she thinks of nothing.  She goes on from
+day to day, from hour to hour, as they did in the Golden Age.
+I can imagine nothing more vulgar.  And at the same time,"
+added Mrs. Costello, "depend upon it that she may tell you
+any moment that she is 'engaged.'"
+
+"I think that is more than Giovanelli expects," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Who is Giovanelli?"
+
+"The little Italian.  I have asked questions about him and
+learned something.  He is apparently a perfectly respectable
+little man.  I believe he is, in a small way, a cavaliere
+avvocato. But he doesn't move in what are called the first circles.
+I think it is really not absolutely impossible that the courier
+introduced him.  He is evidently immensely charmed with Miss Miller.
+If she thinks him the finest gentleman in the world, he, on his side,
+has never found himself in personal contact with such splendor,
+such opulence, such expensiveness as this young lady's. And
+then she must seem to him wonderfully pretty and interesting.
+I rather doubt that he dreams of marrying her.
+That must appear to him too impossible a piece of luck.
+He has nothing but his handsome face to offer, and there is
+a substantial Mr. Miller in that mysterious land of dollars.
+Giovanelli knows that he hasn't a title to offer.
+If he were only a count or a marchese!  He must wonder
+at his luck, at the way they have taken him up."
+
+"He accounts for it by his handsome face and thinks Miss
+Miller a young lady qui se passe ses fantaisies!"
+said Mrs. Costello.
+
+"It is very true," Winterbourne pursued, "that Daisy and her mamma
+have not yet risen to that stage of--what shall I call it?--of culture
+at which the idea of catching a count or a marchese begins.
+I believe that they are intellectually incapable of that conception."
+
+"Ah! but the avvocato can't believe it," said Mrs. Costello.
+
+Of the observation excited by Daisy's "intrigue," Winterbourne
+gathered that day at St. Peter's sufficient evidence.  A dozen
+of the American colonists in Rome came to talk with Mrs. Costello,
+who sat on a little portable stool at the base of one of the
+great pilasters.  The vesper service was going forward in splendid
+chants and organ tones in the adjacent choir, and meanwhile,
+between Mrs. Costello and her friends, there was a great deal
+said about poor little Miss Miller's going really "too far."
+Winterbourne was not pleased with what he heard, but when,
+coming out upon the great steps of the church, he saw Daisy,
+who had emerged before him, get into an open cab with her
+accomplice and roll away through the cynical streets of Rome,
+he could not deny to himself that she was going very far indeed.
+He felt very sorry for her--not exactly that he believed that
+she had completely lost her head, but because it was painful
+to hear so much that was pretty, and undefended, and natural
+assigned to a vulgar place among the categories of disorder.
+He made an attempt after this to give a hint to Mrs. Miller.
+He met one day in the Corso a friend, a tourist like himself,
+who had just come out of the Doria Palace, where he had been
+walking through the beautiful gallery.  His friend talked
+for a moment about the superb portrait of Innocent X by
+Velasquez which hangs in one of the cabinets of the palace,
+and then said, "And in the same cabinet, by the way, I had
+the pleasure of contemplating a picture of a different kind--
+that pretty American girl whom you pointed out to me last week."
+In answer to Winterbourne's inquiries, his friend narrated
+that the pretty American girl--prettier than ever--was seated
+with a companion in the secluded nook in which the great papal
+portrait was enshrined.
+
+"Who was her companion?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"A little Italian with a bouquet in his buttonhole.
+The girl is delightfully pretty, but I thought I understood from you
+the other day that she was a young lady du meilleur monde."
+
+"So she is!" answered Winterbourne; and having assured himself that his
+informant had seen Daisy and her companion but five minutes before,
+he jumped into a cab and went to call on Mrs. Miller.  She was at home;
+but she apologized to him for receiving him in Daisy's absence.
+
+"She's gone out somewhere with Mr. Giovanelli," said Mrs. Miller.
+"She's always going round with Mr. Giovanelli."
+
+"I have noticed that they are very intimate," Winterbourne observed.
+
+"Oh, it seems as if they couldn't live without each other!" said Mrs. Miller.
+"Well, he's a real gentleman, anyhow.  I keep telling Daisy she's engaged!"
+
+"And what does Daisy say?"
+
+"Oh, she says she isn't engaged.  But she might as well be!"
+this impartial parent resumed; "she goes on as if she was.
+But I've made Mr. Giovanelli promise to tell me, if SHE doesn't.
+I should want to write to Mr. Miller about it--shouldn't you?"
+
+Winterbourne replied that he certainly should; and the state of mind
+of Daisy's mamma struck him as so unprecedented in the annals of parental
+vigilance that he gave up as utterly irrelevant the attempt to place
+her upon her guard.
+
+After this Daisy was never at home, and Winterbourne ceased to meet her
+at the houses of their common acquaintances, because, as he perceived,
+these shrewd people had quite made up their minds that she was going too far.
+They ceased to invite her; and they intimated that they desired to
+express to observant Europeans the great truth that, though Miss Daisy
+Miller was a young American lady, her behavior was not representative--
+was regarded by her compatriots as abnormal.  Winterbourne wondered
+how she felt about all the cold shoulders that were turned toward her,
+and sometimes it annoyed him to suspect that she did not feel at all.
+He said to himself that she was too light and childish, too uncultivated
+and unreasoning, too provincial, to have reflected upon her ostracism,
+or even to have perceived it.  Then at other moments he believed that she
+carried about in her elegant and irresponsible little organism a defiant,
+passionate, perfectly observant consciousness of the impression she produced.
+He asked himself whether Daisy's defiance came from the consciousness
+of innocence, or from her being, essentially, a young person of the
+reckless class.  It must be admitted that holding one's self to a belief
+in Daisy's "innocence" came to seem to Winterbourne more and more a matter
+of fine-spun gallantry.  As I have already had occasion to relate, he was
+angry at finding himself reduced to chopping logic about this young lady;
+he was vexed at his want of instinctive certitude as to how far her
+eccentricities were generic, national, and how far they were personal.
+From either view of them he had somehow missed her, and now it was too late.
+She was "carried away" by Mr. Giovanelli.
+
+A few days after his brief interview with her mother, he encountered
+her in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the
+Palace of the Caesars.  The early Roman spring had filled the air
+with bloom and perfume, and the rugged surface of the Palatine
+was muffled with tender verdure.  Daisy was strolling along
+the top of one of those great mounds of ruin that are embanked
+with mossy marble and paved with monumental inscriptions.
+It seemed to him that Rome had never been so lovely as just then.
+He stood, looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and color
+that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors,
+and feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity
+of the place reaffirm themselves in mysterious interfusion.
+It seemed to him also that Daisy had never looked so pretty,
+but this had been an observation of his whenever he met her.
+Giovanelli was at her side, and Giovanelli, too, wore an aspect
+of even unwonted brilliancy.
+
+"Well," said Daisy, "I should think you would be lonesome!"
+
+"Lonesome?" asked Winterbourne.
+
+"You are always going round by yourself.  Can't you get anyone
+to walk with you?"
+
+"I am not so fortunate," said Winterbourne, "as your companion."
+
+Giovanelli, from the first, had treated Winterbourne with
+distinguished politeness.  He listened with a deferential air
+to his remarks; he laughed punctiliously at his pleasantries;
+he seemed disposed to testify to his belief that Winterbourne
+was a superior young man.  He carried himself in no degree
+like a jealous wooer; he had obviously a great deal of tact;
+he had no objection to your expecting a little humility of him.
+It even seemed to Winterbourne at times that Giovanelli would
+find a certain mental relief in being able to have a private
+understanding with him--to say to him, as an intelligent man,
+that, bless you, HE knew how extraordinary was this
+young lady, and didn't flatter himself with delusive--
+or at least TOO delusive--hopes of matrimony and dollars.
+On this occasion he strolled away from his companion to pluck
+a sprig of almond blossom, which he carefully arranged
+in his buttonhole.
+
+"I know why you say that," said Daisy, watching Giovanelli.
+"Because you think I go round too much with HIM."
+And she nodded at her attendant.
+
+"Every one thinks so--if you care to know," said Winterbourne.
+
+"Of course I care to know!"  Daisy exclaimed seriously.
+"But I don't believe it.  They are only pretending to be shocked.
+They don't really care a straw what I do.  Besides, I don't
+go round so much."
+
+"I think you will find they do care.  They will show it disagreeably."
+
+Daisy looked at him a moment.  "How disagreeably?"
+
+"Haven't you noticed anything?"  Winterbourne asked.
+
+"I have noticed you.  But I noticed you were as stiff as an umbrella
+the first time I saw you."
+
+"You will find I am not so stiff as several others,"
+said Winterbourne, smiling.
+
+"How shall I find it?"
+
+"By going to see the others."
+
+"What will they do to me?"
+
+"They will give you the cold shoulder.  Do you know what that means?"
+
+Daisy was looking at him intently; she began to color.
+"Do you mean as Mrs. Walker did the other night?"
+
+"Exactly!" said Winterbourne.
+
+She looked away at Giovanelli, who was decorating himself
+with his almond blossom.  Then looking back at Winterbourne,
+"I shouldn't think you would let people be so unkind!" she said.
+
+"How can I help it?" he asked.
+
+"I should think you would say something."
+
+"I do say something"; and he paused a moment.  "I say that your mother
+tells me that she believes you are engaged."
+
+"Well, she does," said Daisy very simply.
+
+Winterbourne began to laugh.  "And does Randolph believe it?" he asked.
+
+"I guess Randolph doesn't believe anything," said Daisy.
+Randolph's skepticism excited Winterbourne to further hilarity,
+and he observed that Giovanelli was coming back to them.
+Daisy, observing it too, addressed herself again to her countryman.
+"Since you have mentioned it," she said, "I AM engaged."
+* * * Winterbourne looked at her; he had stopped laughing.
+"You don't believe!" she added.
+
+He was silent a moment; and then, "Yes, I believe it," he said.
+
+"Oh, no, you don't!" she answered.  "Well, then--I am not!"
+
+The young girl and her cicerone were on their way to the gate
+of the enclosure, so that Winterbourne, who had but lately entered,
+presently took leave of them.  A week afterward he went to dine
+at a beautiful villa on the Caelian Hill, and, on arriving,
+dismissed his hired vehicle.  The evening was charming, and he
+promised himself the satisfaction of walking home beneath the Arch
+of Constantine and past the vaguely lighted monuments of the Forum.
+There was a waning moon in the sky, and her radiance was not brilliant,
+but she was veiled in a thin cloud curtain which seemed to diffuse
+and equalize it.  When, on his return from the villa (it was eleven
+o'clock), Winterbourne approached the dusky circle of the Colosseum,
+it recurred to him, as a lover of the picturesque, that the interior,
+in the pale moonshine, would be well worth a glance.  He turned aside
+and walked to one of the empty arches, near which, as he observed,
+an open carriage--one of the little Roman streetcabs--was stationed.
+Then he passed in, among the cavernous shadows of the great structure,
+and emerged upon the clear and silent arena.  The place had never
+seemed to him more impressive.  One-half of the gigantic circus
+was in deep shade, the other was sleeping in the luminous dusk.
+As he stood there he began to murmur Byron's famous lines,
+out of "Manfred," but before he had finished his quotation
+he remembered that if nocturnal meditations in the Colosseum are
+recommended by the poets, they are deprecated by the doctors.
+The historic atmosphere was there, certainly; but the historic atmosphere,
+scientifically considered, was no better than a villainous miasma.
+Winterbourne walked to the middle of the arena, to take a more
+general glance, intending thereafter to make a hasty retreat.
+The great cross in the center was covered with shadow;
+it was only as he drew near it that he made it out distinctly.
+Then he saw that two persons were stationed upon the low steps which
+formed its base.  One of these was a woman, seated; her companion
+was standing in front of her.
+
+Presently the sound of the woman's voice came to him distinctly
+in the warm night air.  "Well, he looks at us as one of the old
+lions or tigers may have looked at the Christian martyrs!"
+These were the words he heard, in the familiar accent of
+Miss Daisy Miller.
+
+"Let us hope he is not very hungry," responded the ingenious Giovanelli.
+"He will have to take me first; you will serve for dessert!"
+
+Winterbourne stopped, with a sort of horror, and, it must be added,
+with a sort of relief.  It was as if a sudden illumination had been
+flashed upon the ambiguity of Daisy's behavior, and the riddle had
+become easy to read.  She was a young lady whom a gentleman need
+no longer be at pains to respect.  He stood there, looking at her--
+looking at her companion and not reflecting that though he saw
+them vaguely, he himself must have been more brightly visible.
+He felt angry with himself that he had bothered so much about
+the right way of regarding Miss Daisy Miller.  Then, as he was going
+to advance again, he checked himself, not from the fear that he was doing
+her injustice, but from a sense of the danger of appearing unbecomingly
+exhilarated by this sudden revulsion from cautious criticism.
+He turned away toward the entrance of the place, but, as he did so,
+he heard Daisy speak again.
+
+"Why, it was Mr. Winterbourne!  He saw me, and he cuts me!"
+
+What a clever little reprobate she was, and how smartly she played
+at injured innocence!  But he wouldn't cut her.  Winterbourne came
+forward again and went toward the great cross.  Daisy had got up;
+Giovanelli lifted his hat.  Winterbourne had now begun to think
+simply of the craziness, from a sanitary point of view, of a delicate
+young girl lounging away the evening in this nest of malaria.
+What if she WERE a clever little reprobate? that was no reason
+for her dying of the perniciosa. "How long have you been here?"
+he asked almost brutally.
+
+Daisy, lovely in the flattering moonlight, looked at him a moment.
+Then--"All the evening," she answered, gently.  * * * "I never saw
+anything so pretty."
+
+"I am afraid," said Winterbourne, "that you will not think
+Roman fever very pretty.  This is the way people catch it.
+I wonder," he added, turning to Giovanelli, "that you,
+a native Roman, should countenance such a terrible indiscretion."
+
+"Ah," said the handsome native, "for myself I am not afraid."
+
+"Neither am I--for you!  I am speaking for this young lady."
+
+Giovanelli lifted his well-shaped eyebrows and showed his brilliant teeth.
+But he took Winterbourne's rebuke with docility.  "I told the signorina it
+was a grave indiscretion, but when was the signorina ever prudent?"
+
+"I never was sick, and I don't mean to be!" the signorina declared.
+"I don't look like much, but I'm healthy!  I was bound to see the Colosseum
+by moonlight; I shouldn't have wanted to go home without that;
+and we have had the most beautiful time, haven't we, Mr. Giovanelli?
+If there has been any danger, Eugenio can give me some pills.
+He has got some splendid pills."
+
+"I should advise you," said Winterbourne, "to drive home as fast
+as possible and take one!"
+
+"What you say is very wise," Giovanelli rejoined.
+"I will go and make sure the carriage is at hand."
+And he went forward rapidly.
+
+Daisy followed with Winterbourne.  He kept looking at her;
+she seemed not in the least embarrassed.  Winterbourne said nothing;
+Daisy chattered about the beauty of the place.  "Well, I
+HAVE seen the Colosseum by moonlight!" she exclaimed.
+"That's one good thing."  Then, noticing Winterbourne's silence,
+she asked him why he didn't speak.  He made no answer;
+he only began to laugh.  They passed under one of the
+dark archways; Giovanelli was in front with the carriage.
+Here Daisy stopped a moment, looking at the young American.
+"DID you believe I was engaged, the other day?" she asked.
+
+"It doesn't matter what I believed the other day,"
+said Winterbourne, still laughing.
+
+"Well, what do you believe now?"
+
+"I believe that it makes very little difference whether you
+are engaged or not!"
+
+He felt the young girl's pretty eyes fixed upon him through
+the thick gloom of the archway; she was apparently going to answer.
+But Giovanelli hurried her forward.  "Quick! quick!" he said;
+"if we get in by midnight we are quite safe."
+
+Daisy took her seat in the carriage, and the fortunate Italian
+placed himself beside her.  "Don't forget Eugenio's pills!"
+said Winterbourne as he lifted his hat.
+
+"I don't care," said Daisy in a little strange tone, "whether I have Roman
+fever or not!"  Upon this the cab driver cracked his whip, and they rolled
+away over the desultory patches of the antique pavement.
+
+Winterbourne, to do him justice, as it were, mentioned to no one
+that he had encountered Miss Miller, at midnight, in the Colosseum
+with a gentleman; but nevertheless, a couple of days later, the fact
+of her having been there under these circumstances was known to every
+member of the little American circle, and commented accordingly.
+Winterbourne reflected that they had of course known it
+at the hotel, and that, after Daisy's return, there had been
+an exchange of remarks between the porter and the cab driver.
+But the young man was conscious, at the same moment, that it had
+ceased to be a matter of serious regret to him that the little
+American flirt should be "talked about" by low-minded menials.
+These people, a day or two later, had serious information to give:
+the little American flirt was alarmingly ill.  Winterbourne, when the
+rumor came to him, immediately went to the hotel for more news.
+He found that two or three charitable friends had preceded him,
+and that they were being entertained in Mrs. Miller's salon by Randolph.
+
+"It's going round at night," said Randolph--"that's
+what made her sick.  She's always going round at night.
+I shouldn't think she'd want to, it's so plaguy dark.
+You can't see anything here at night, except when there's a moon.
+In America there's always a moon!"  Mrs. Miller was invisible;
+she was now, at least, giving her daughter the advantage of
+her society.  It was evident that Daisy was dangerously ill.
+
+Winterbourne went often to ask for news of her, and once he saw Mrs. Miller,
+who, though deeply alarmed, was, rather to his surprise, perfectly composed,
+and, as it appeared, a most efficient and judicious nurse.  She talked
+a good deal about Dr. Davis, but Winterbourne paid her the compliment
+of saying to himself that she was not, after all, such a monstrous goose.
+"Daisy spoke of you the other day," she said to him.  "Half the time
+she doesn't know what she's saying, but that time I think she did.
+She gave me a message she told me to tell you.  She told me to tell you
+that she never was engaged to that handsome Italian.  I am sure I am
+very glad; Mr. Giovanelli hasn't been near us since she was taken ill.
+I thought he was so much of a gentleman; but I don't call that very polite!
+A lady told me that he was afraid I was angry with him for taking Daisy
+round at night.  Well, so I am, but I suppose he knows I'm a lady.
+I would scorn to scold him.  Anyway, she says she's not engaged.
+I don't know why she wanted you to know, but she said to me three times,
+'Mind you tell Mr. Winterbourne.'  And then she told me to ask
+if you remembered the time you went to that castle in Switzerland.
+But I said I wouldn't give any such messages as that.  Only, if she
+is not engaged, I'm sure I'm glad to know it."
+
+But, as Winterbourne had said, it mattered very little.
+A week after this, the poor girl died; it had been a terrible
+case of the fever.  Daisy's grave was in the little
+Protestant cemetery, in an angle of the wall of imperial Rome,
+beneath the cypresses and the thick spring flowers.
+Winterbourne stood there beside it, with a number of other mourners,
+a number larger than the scandal excited by the young lady's
+career would have led you to expect.  Near him stood Giovanelli,
+who came nearer still before Winterbourne turned away.
+Giovanelli was very pale:  on this occasion he had no flower
+in his buttonhole; he seemed to wish to say something.
+At last he said, "She was the most beautiful young lady I
+ever saw, and the most amiable"; and then he added in a moment,
+"and she was the most innocent."
+
+Winterbourne looked at him and presently repeated his words,
+"And the most innocent?"
+
+"The most innocent!"
+
+Winterbourne felt sore and angry.  "Why the devil," he asked,
+"did you take her to that fatal place?"
+
+Mr. Giovanelli's urbanity was apparently imperturbable.
+He looked on the ground a moment, and then he said, "For myself
+I had no fear; and she wanted to go."
+
+"That was no reason!"  Winterbourne declared.
+
+The subtle Roman again dropped his eyes.  "If she had lived,
+I should have got nothing.  She would never have married me,
+I am sure."
+
+"She would never have married you?"
+
+"For a moment I hoped so.  But no.  I am sure."
+
+Winterbourne listened to him:  he stood staring at the raw protuberance
+among the April daisies.  When he turned away again, Mr. Giovanelli,
+with his light, slow step, had retired.
+
+Winterbourne almost immediately left Rome; but the following
+summer he again met his aunt, Mrs. Costello at Vevey.
+Mrs. Costello was fond of Vevey.  In the interval Winterbourne
+had often thought of Daisy Miller and her mystifying manners.
+One day he spoke of her to his aunt--said it was on his conscience
+that he had done her injustice.
+
+"I am sure I don't know," said Mrs. Costello.  "How did your
+injustice affect her?"
+
+"She sent me a message before her death which I didn't
+understand at the time; but I have understood it since.
+She would have appreciated one's esteem."
+
+"Is that a modest way," asked Mrs. Costello, "of saying that she would
+have reciprocated one's affection?"
+
+Winterbourne offered no answer to this question; but he presently said,
+"You were right in that remark that you made last summer.  I was booked
+to make a mistake.  I have lived too long in foreign parts."
+
+Nevertheless, he went back to live at Geneva, whence there continue
+to come the most contradictory accounts of his motives of sojourn:
+a report that he is "studying" hard--an intimation that he is much
+interested in a very clever foreign lady.
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Daisy Miller, by Henry James
+
+
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