Ah, you are cruel! said the young man. Shes a very nice girl.
You dont 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 Château 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 havent been twenty-four hours in the house.
I had 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 havent 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 moustache.
You are too guilty, then!
Winterbourne continued to curl his moustache, meditatively. You wont let the poor girl know you then? he asked at last.
Is it literally true that she is going to the Château de Chillon with you?
I think that she fully intends it.
Then, my dear Frederick, said Mrs. Costello, I must decline the honour of her acquaintance. I am an old woman, but I am not too old thank Heaven to be shocked!
But dont they all do these things the young girls in America? Winterbourne inquired.
Mrs. Costello stared a moment. I should like to see my grand-daughters 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 license 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 aunts 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[10]. 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 oclock. 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 doesnt like to go to bed, said the young girl. She doesnt sleep not three hours. She says she doesnt know how she lives. Shes dreadfully nervous. I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. Shes gone somewhere after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed. He doesnt like to go to bed.
Let us hope she will persuade him, observed Winterbourne.
She will talk to him all she can; but he doesnt like her to talk to him, said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. Shes going to try to get Eugenio to talk to him. But he isnt afraid of Eugenio. Eugenios a splendid courier, but he cant make much impression on Randolph! I dont believe hell go to bed before eleven. It appeared that Randolphs 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. Shes your aunt. Then, on Winterbournes 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[11]; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no one, and she never dined at the table dhôte[12]. Every two days she had a headache. I think thats 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; Im dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we are exclusive, mother and I. We dont speak to every one or they dont speak to us. I suppose its about the same thing. Any way, 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 doesnt 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 doesnt want to know me! she said, suddenly. Why dont you say so? You neednt be afraid. Im 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[13]. Its her wretched health.
The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. You neednt 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 neednt 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; heres mother! I guess she hasnt 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 doesnt see you, said Winterbourne. Or perhaps, he added thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke permissible perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl.
Oh, its a fearful old thing! the young girl replied, serenely. I told her she could wear it. She wont come here, because she sees you.
Ah, then, said Winterbourne, I had better leave you.
Oh no; come on! urged Miss Daisy Miller.
Im afraid your mother doesnt approve of my walking with you.
Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. It isnt for me; its for you that is, its for her. Well; I dont know who its for! But mother doesnt like any of my gentlemen friends. Shes right down timid. She always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I do introduce them almost always. If I didnt introduce my gentlemen friends to mother, the young girl added, in her little soft, flat monotone, I shouldnt think I was natural.
To introduce me, said Winterbourne, you must know my name. And he proceeded to pronounce it.
Oh, dear; I cant 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 upon 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 dont know, said her mother, turning towards the lake again.
I shouldnt think youd 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 couldnt 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 mans 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.
Randolphs mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake. But at last she spoke. Well, I dont see how he lives!
Anyhow, it isnt so bad as it was at Dover, said Daisy Miller.
And what occurred at Dover? Winterbourne asked.
He wouldnt go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public parlour. He wasnt in bed at twelve oclock: 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 doesnt sleep much, Daisy rejoined.
I wish he would! said her mother. It seems as if he couldnt.
I think hes real tiresome, Daisy pursued.
Then, for some moments, there was silence. Well, Daisy Miller, said the elder lady, presently, I shouldnt think youd want to talk against your own brother!
Well, he is tiresome, mother, said Daisy, quite without the asperity of a retort.
Hes only nine, urged Mrs. Miller.
Well, he wouldnt go to that castle, said the young girl. Im going there with Mr. Winterbourne.
To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisys 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 honour of being her guide.
Mrs. Millers 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 dont know, Mrs. Miller rejoined. I have never been to that castle.
It is a pity you shouldnt 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.
Weve been thinking ever so much about going, she pursued; but it seems as if we couldnt. Of course Daisy she wants to go round. But theres a lady here I dont know her name she says she shouldnt think wed want to go to see castles here; she should think wed 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[14] , said Mrs. Miller, in a tone impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise. It seems as if there was nothing she wouldnt undertake.
Oh, I think shell enjoy it! Winterbourne declared. And he desired more and more to make it a certainty that he was to have the privilege of a tête-à-tête with the young lady, who was still strolling along in front of them, softly vocalising. You are not disposed, madam, he inquired, to undertake it yourself?
Daisys 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. Millers unprotected daughter.
Mr. Winterbourne! murmured Daisy.
Mademoiselle! said the young man.
Dont you want to take me out in a boat?
At present?[15] 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.