Daisy Miller PART I-2

8/9/2019 Daisy Miller PART I-2

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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 aremarkably blue lake—a lake that it behooves every tourist to visit. The shore of thelake 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 "erman!looking lettering upon a pink or yellow walland an awkward summerhouse in the angle of the garden. #ne of the hotels at Vevey,however, is famous, even classical, being distinguished from many of its upstartneighbors by an air both of lu$ury and of maturity. %n this region, in the month of

&une, American travelers are e$tremely numerous' it may be said, indeed, that Veveyassumes at this period some of the characteristics of an American watering place.There are sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo, of (ewport and Saratoga.There is a flitting hither and thither of stylish young girls, a rustling of muslinflounces, a rattle of dance music in the morning hours, a sound of high!pitched voicesat all times. )ou receive an impression of these things at the e$cellent inn of the Trois*ouronnes and are transported in fancy to the #cean +ouse or to *ongress +all. utat the Trois *ouronnes, it must be added, there are other features that are much atvariance with these suggestions- neat "erman waiters, who look like secretaries of legation' ussian princesses sitting in the garden' little /olish boys walking about held

by the hand, with their governors' a view of the sunny crest of the 0ent du 1idi andthe pictures2ue towers of the *astle of *hillon.% 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 theTrois *ouronnes, looking about him, rather idly, at some of the graceful ob3ects %

have mentioned. %t was a beautiful summer morning, and in whatever fashion theyoung American looked at things, they must have seemed to him charming. +e hadcome from "eneva the day before by the little steamer, to see his aunt, who wasstaying at the hotel—"eneva having been for a long time his place of residence. uthis aunt had a headache—his aunt had almost always a headache—and now she wasshut up in her room, smelling camphor, so that he was at liberty to wander about. +ewas some seven!and!twenty years of age' when his friends spoke of him, they usuallysaid that he was at "eneva studying. 4hen his enemies spoke of him, they said—

but, after all, he had no enemies' he was an e$tremely amiable fellow, and universallyliked. 4hat % should say is, simply, that when certain persons spoke of him theyaffirmed that the reason of his spending so much time at "eneva was that he wase$tremely devoted to a lady who lived there—a foreign lady—a person older than



himself. Very few Americans—indeed, % think none—had ever seen this lady, aboutwhom there were some singular stories. ut 4interbourne had an old attachment for the little metropolis of *alvinism' he had been put to school there as a boy, and he hadafterward gone to college there—circumstances which had led to his forming a greatmany youthful friendships. 1any of these he had kept, and they were a source of greatsatisfaction to him.

After knocking at his aunt5s door and learning that she was indisposed, he had takena walk about the town, and then he had come in to his breakfast. +e had now finishedhis breakfast' but he was drinking a small cup of coffee, which had been served to himon a little table in the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache. At lasthe finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. /resently a small boy came walking along the

path—an urchin of nine or ten. The child, who was diminutive for his years, had anaged e$pression of countenance, a pale comple$ion, and sharp little features. +e wasdressed in knickerbockers, with red stockings, which displayed his poor little spindle!

shanks' he also wore a brilliant red cravat. +e carried in his hand a long alpenstock,the sharp point of which he thrust into everything that he approached—theflowerbeds, the garden benches, the trains of the ladies5 dresses. %n front of 4interbourne he paused, looking at him with a pair of bright, penetrating little eyes.

4ill you give me a lump of sugar6 he asked in a sharp, hard little voice—a voiceimmature and yet, somehow, not young.

4interbourne glanced at the small table near him, on which his coffee servicerested, and saw that several morsels of sugar remained. )es, you may take one, heanswered' but % don5t think sugar is good for little boys.

This little boy stepped forward and carefully selected three of the covetedfragments, two of which he buried in the pocket of his knickerbockers, depositing theother as promptly in another place. +e poked his alpenstock, lance!fashion, into4interbourne5s bench and tried to crack the lump of sugar with his teeth.

#h, blazes' it5s har!r!d7 he e$claimed, pronouncing the ad3ective in a peculiar manner.

4interbourne had immediately perceived that he might have the honor of claiminghim as a fellow countryman. Take care you don5t hurt your teeth, he said, paternally.

% haven5t got any teeth to hurt. They have all come out. % have only got seven teeth.1y mother counted them last night, and one came out right afterward. She said she5dslap me if any more came out. % can5t help it. %t5s this old 8urope. %t5s the climate thatmakes them come out. %n America they didn5t come out. %t5s these hotels.

4interbourne was much amused. %f you eat three lumps of sugar, your mother willcertainly slap you, he said.

She5s got to give me some candy, then, re3oined his young interlocutor. % can5t getany candy here—any American candy. American candy5s the best candy.





parapet, at the lake and the opposite mountains. +e wondered whether he had gonetoo far, but he decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat. 4hile he wasthinking of something else to say, the young lady turned to the little boy again.

% should like to know where you got that pole, she said.

% bought it, responded andolph.)ou don5t mean to say you5re going to take it to %taly6)es, % am going to take it to %taly, the child declared.

The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot or twoof ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again. 4ell, % guess you had

better leave it somewhere, she said after a moment.Are you going to %taly6 4interbourne in2uired in a tone of great respect.

The young lady glanced at him again. )es, sir, she replied. And she said nothingmore.

Are you—a—going over the Simplon6 4interbourne pursued, a littleembarrassed.

% don5t know, she said. % suppose it5s some mountain. andolph, what mountainare we going over6

"oing where6 the child demanded.To %taly, 4interbourne e$plained.% don5t know, said andolph. % don5t want to go to %taly. % want to go to America.#h, %taly is a beautiful place7 re3oined the young man.*an you get candy there6 andolph loudly in2uired.% hope not, said his sister. % guess you have had enough candy, and mother thinks

so too.% haven5t had any for ever so long—for a hundred weeks7 cried the boy, still

3umping about.The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again' and

4interbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty of the view. +e wasceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun to perceive that she was not in the leastembarrassed herself. There had not been the slightest alteration in her charmingcomple$ion' she was evidently neither offended nor flattered. %f she looked another

way when he spoke to her, and seemed not particularly to hear him, this was simplyher habit, her manner. )et, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of theob3ects of interest in the view, with which she appeared 2uite unac2uainted, shegradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance' and then he saw that this glancewas perfectly direct and unshrinking. %t was not, however, what would have beencalled an immodest glance, for the young girl5s eyes were singularly honest and fresh.They were wonderfully pretty eyes' and, indeed, 4interbourne had not seen for a long



time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman5s various features—her comple$ion,her nose, her ears, her teeth. +e had a great relish for feminine beauty' he wasaddicted to observing and analyzing it' and as regards this young lady5s face he madeseveral observations. %t was not at all insipid, but it was not e$actly e$pressive' andthough it was eminently delicate, 4interbourne mentally accused it—very forgivingly

—of a want of finish. +e thought it very possible that 1aster andolph5s sister was aco2uette' he was sure she had a spirit of her own' but in her bright, sweet, superficiallittle visage there was no mockery, no irony. efore long it became obvious that shewas much disposed toward conversation. She told him that they were going to omefor the winter—she and her mother and andolph. She asked him if he was a realAmerican ' she shouldn5t have taken him for one' he seemed more like a "erman— this was said after a little hesitation—especially when he spoke. 4interbourne,laughing, answered that he had met "ermans who spoke like Americans, but that hehad not, so far as he remembered, met an American who spoke like a "erman. Thenhe asked her if she should not be more comfortable in sitting upon the bench which hehad 3ust 2uitted. She answered that she liked standing up and walking about' but she

presently sat down. She told him she was from (ew )ork State— if you know wherethat is. 4interbourne 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.

andolph *. 1iller, said the boy sharply. And %5ll tell you her name' and heleveled his alpenstock at his sister.

)ou had better wait till you are asked7 said this young lady calmly.% should like very much to know your name, said 4interbourne.+er name is 0aisy 1iller7 cried the child. ut that isn5t her real name' that isn5t

her name on her cards.%t5s a pity you haven5t got one of my cards7 said 1iss 1iller.+er real name is Annie /. 1iller, the boy went on.Ask him +%S name, said his sister, indicating 4interbourne.ut on this point andolph seemed perfectly indifferent' he continued to supply

information with regard to his own family. 1y father5s name is 8zra . 1iller, heannounced. 1y father ain5t in 8urope' my father5s in a better place than 8urope.

4interbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in which the childhad been taught to intimate that 1r. 1iller had been removed to the sphere of celestialreward. ut andolph immediately added, 1y father5s in Schenectady. +e5s got a big

business. 1y father5s rich, you bet74ell7 e3aculated 1iss 1iller, lowering her parasol and looking at the embroidered

border. 4interbourne presently released the child, who departed, dragging his



alpenstock along the path. +e doesn5t like 8urope, said the young girl. +e wants togo back.

To Schenectady, you mean6)es' he wants to go right home. +e hasn5t got any boys here. There is one boy here,

but he always goes round with a teacher' they won5t let him play.And your brother hasn5t any teacher6 4interbourne in2uired.1other 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—1rs. Sanders.% think she came from oston. She told her of this teacher, and we thought of gettinghim to travel round with us. ut andolph said he didn5t want a teacher travelinground with us. +e said he wouldn5t have lessons when he was in the cars. And weA 8 in the cars about half the time. There was an 8nglish lady we met in the cars—%think her name was 1iss 9eatherstone' perhaps you know her. She wanted to knowwhy % didn5t give andolph lessons—give him 5instruction,5 she called it. % guess hecould give me more instruction than % could give him. +e5s very smart.

)es, said 4interbourne' he seems very smart.1other5s going to get a teacher for him as soon as we get to %taly. *an you get

good teachers in %taly6Very good, % should think, said 4interbourne.#r else she5s going to find some school. +e ought to learn some more. +e5s only

nine. +e5s going to college. And in this way 1iss 1iller continued to converse uponthe affairs of her family and upon other topics. She sat there with her e$tremely prettyhands, ornamented with very brilliant rings, folded in her lap, and with her pretty eyesnow resting upon those of 4interbourne, now wandering over the garden, the peoplewho passed by, and the beautiful view. She talked to 4interbourne as if she hadknown him a long time. +e found it very pleasant. %t was many years since he hadheard a young girl talk so much. %t might have been said of this unknown young lady,who had come and sat down beside him upon a bench, that she chattered. She wasvery 2uiet' she sat in a charming, tran2uil attitude' but her lips and her eyes wereconstantly moving. She had a soft, slender, agreeable voice, and her tone wasdecidedly sociable. She gave 4interbourne a history of her movements and intentionsand those of her mother and brother, in 8urope, and enumerated, in particular, thevarious hotels at which they had stopped. That 8nglish lady in the cars, she said

— 1iss 9eatherstone—asked me if we didn5t all live in hotels in America. % told her %had never been in so many hotels in my life as since % came to 8urope. % have never seen so many—it5s nothing but hotels. ut 1iss 1iller did not make this remark witha 2uerulous accent' she appeared to be in the best humor with everything. Shedeclared that the hotels were very good, when once you got used to their ways, andthat 8urope was perfectly sweet. She was not disappointed—not a bit. /erhaps 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 dressesand things from /aris. 4henever she put on a /aris dress she felt as if she were in8urope.

%t was a kind of a wishing cap, said 4interbourne.

)es, said 1iss 1iller without e$amining this analogy' it always made me wish %was here. ut % needn5t have done that for dresses. % am sure they send all the prettyones to America' you see the most frightful things here. The only thing % don5t like,she proceeded, is the society. There isn5t any society' or, if there is, % don5t knowwhere it keeps itself. 0o you6 % suppose there is some society somewhere, but %haven5t seen anything of it. %5m very fond of society, and % have always had a greatdeal of it. % don5t mean only in Schenectady, but in (ew )ork. % used to go to (ew)ork every winter. %n (ew )ork % had lots of society. :ast winter % had seventeendinners given me' and three of them were by gentlemen, added 0aisy 1iller. % havemore friends in (ew )ork 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 4interbourne with all her prettiness in her lively eyes and in her light, slightly monotonous smile. % have always had, she said, a great deal of gentlemen5s society.

/oor 4interbourne was amused, perple$ed, and decidedly charmed. +e had never yet heard a young girl e$press herself in 3ust this fashion' never, at least, save in caseswhere to say such things seemed a kind of demonstrative evidence of a certain la$ityof deportment. And yet was he to accuse 1iss 0aisy 1iller of actual or potentialinconduite, as they said at "eneva6 +e felt that he had lived at "eneva so long that hehad lost a good deal' he had become dishabituated to the American tone. (ever,indeed, since he had grown old enough to appreciate things, had he encountered ayoung American girl of so pronounced a type as this. *ertainly she was verycharming, but how deucedly sociable7 4as she simply a pretty girl from (ew )ork State6 4ere they all like that, the pretty girls who had a good deal of gentlemen5ssociety6 #r was she also a designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person64interbourne had lost his instinct in this matter, and his reason could not help him.1iss 0aisy 1iller looked e$tremely innocent. Some people had told him that, after all, American girls were e$ceedingly innocent' and others had told him that, after all,they were not. +e was inclined to think 1iss 0aisy 1iller was a flirt—a prettyAmerican flirt. +e had never, as yet, had any relations with young ladies of thiscategory. +e had known, here in 8urope, two or three women—persons older than1iss 0aisy 1iller, and provided, for respectability5s sake, with husbands—who weregreat co2uettes—dangerous, terrible women, with whom one5s relations were liable totake a serious turn. ut this young girl was not a co2uette in that sense' she was veryunsophisticated' she was only a pretty American flirt. 4interbourne was almostgrateful for having found the formula that applied to 1iss 0aisy 1iller. +e 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 one5sintercourse with a pretty American flirt. %t presently became apparent that he was onthe way to learn.

+ave you been to that old castle6 asked the young girl, pointing with her parasolto the far!gleaming walls of the *hateau de *hillon.

)es, formerly, more than once, said 4interbourne. )ou too, % suppose, have seenit6

(o' we haven5t been there. % want to go there dreadfully. #f course % mean to gothere. % wouldn5t go away from here without having seen that old castle.

%t5s a very pretty e$cursion, said 4interbourne, and very easy to make. )ou candrive, you know, or you can go by the little steamer.

)ou can go in the cars, said 1iss 1iller.)es' you can go in the cars, 4interbourne assented.

#ur courier says they take you right up to the castle, the young girl continued.4e were going last week, but my mother gave out. She suffers dreadfully fromdyspepsia. She said she couldn5t go. andolph wouldn5t go either' he says he doesn5tthink much of old castles. ut % guess we5ll go this week, if we can get andolph.

)our brother is not interested in ancient monuments6 4interbourne in2uired,smiling.

+e says he don5t care much about old castles. +e5s only nine. +e wants to stay atthe hotel. 1other5s afraid to leave him alone, and the courier won5t stay with him' sowe haven5t been to many places. ut it will be too bad if we don5t go up there. And1iss 1iller pointed again at the *hateau de *hillon.

% should think it might be arranged, said 4interbourne. *ouldn5t you get someone to stay for the afternoon with andolph6

1iss 1iller looked at him a moment, and then, very placidly, % wish )#; wouldstay with him7 she said.

4interbourne hesitated a moment. % should much rather go to *hillon with you.4ith me6 asked the young girl with the same placidity.

She didn5t rise, blushing, as a young girl at "eneva would have done' and yet4interbourne, conscious that he had been very bold, thought it possible she wasoffended. 4ith your mother, he answered very respectfully.

ut it seemed that both his audacity and his respect were lost upon 1iss 0aisy1iller. % guess my mother won5t go, after all, she said. She don5t like to ride roundin the afternoon. ut did you really mean what you said 3ust now—that you wouldlike to go up there6

1ost earnestly, 4interbourne declared.Then we may arrange it. %f mother will stay with andolph, % guess 8ugenio will.



8ugenio6 the young man in2uired.8ugenio5s our courier. +e doesn5t like to stay with andolph' he5s the most

fastidious man % ever saw. ut he5s a splendid courier. % guess he5ll stay at home withandolph if mother does, and then we can go to the castle.

4interbourne reflected for an instant as lucidly as possible— we could only mean1iss 0aisy 1iller and himself. This program seemed almost too agreeable for credence' he felt as if he ought to kiss the young lady5s hand. /ossibly he would havedone so and 2uite spoiled the pro3ect, but at this moment another person, presumably8ugenio, appeared. A tall, handsome man, with superb whiskers, wearing a velvetmorning coat and a brilliant watch chain, approached 1iss 1iller, looking sharply ather companion. #h, 8ugenio7 said 1iss 1iller with the friendliest accent.

8ugenio had looked at 4interbourne from head to foot' he now bowed gravely tothe young lady. % have the honor to inform mademoiselle that luncheon is upon thetable.

1iss 1iller slowly rose. See here, 8ugenio7 she said' %5m going to that old castle,anyway.

To the *hateau de *hillon, mademoiselle6 the courier in2uired. 1ademoisellehas made arrangements6 he added in a tone which struck 4interbourne as veryimpertinent.

8ugenio5s tone apparently threw, even to 1iss 1iller5s own apprehension, a slightlyironical light upon the young girl5s situation. She turned to 4interbourne, blushing alittle—a very little. )ou won5t back out6 she said.

% shall not be happy till we go7 he protested.

And you are staying in this hotel6 she went on. And you are really anAmerican6

The courier stood looking at 4interbourne offensively. The young man, at least,thought his manner of looking an offense to 1iss 1iller' it conveyed an imputationthat she picked up ac2uaintances. % 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.#h, well, we5ll go some day, said 1iss 1iller. And she gave him a smile and

turned away. She put up her parasol and walked back to the inn beside 8ugenio.4interbourne 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.+e had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising to present

his aunt, 1rs. *ostello, to 1iss 0aisy 1iller. As soon as the former lady had got better of her headache, he waited upon her in her apartment' and, after the proper in2uiries in regard to her health, he asked her if she had observed in the hotel anAmerican family—a mamma, a daughter, and a little boy.



And a courier6 said 1rs. *ostello. #h yes, % have observed them. Seen them— heard them—and kept out of their way. 1rs. *ostello was a widow with a fortune' a

person of much distinction, who fre2uently intimated that, if she were not sodreadfully liable to sick headaches, she would probably have left a deeper impressupon her time. She had a long, pale face, a high nose, and a great deal of very strikingwhite hair, which she wore in large puffs and rouleau$ over the top of her head. Shehad two sons married in (ew )ork and another who was now in 8urope. This youngman was amusing himself at +amburg, and, though he was on his travels, was rarely

perceived to visit any particular city at the moment selected by his mother for her ownappearance there. +er nephew, who had come up to Vevey e$pressly to see her, wastherefore more attentive than those who, as she said, were nearer to her. +e hadimbibed at "eneva the idea that one must always be attentive to one5s aunt. 1rs.*ostello had not seen him for many years, and she was greatly pleased with him,manifesting her approbation by initiating him into many of the secrets of that socialsway which, as she gave him to understand, she e$erted in the American capital. Sheadmitted that she was very e$clusive' but, if he were ac2uainted with (ew )ork, hewould see that one had to be. And her picture of the minutely hierarchical constitutionof the society of that city, which she presented to him in many different lights, was, to4interbourne5s imagination, almost oppressively striking.

+e immediately perceived, from her tone, that 1iss 0aisy 1iller5s place in thesocial scale was low. % am afraid you don5t approve of them, he said.

They are very common, 1rs. *ostello declared. They are the sort of Americansthat one does one5s duty by not—not accepting.

Ah, you don5t accept them6 said the young man.% can5t, my dear 9rederick. % would if % could, but % can5t.The young girl is very pretty, said 4interbourne in a moment.#f course she5s pretty. ut she is very common.% see what you mean, of course, said 4interbourne after another pause.She has that charming look that they all have, his aunt resumed. % can5t think

where they pick it up' and she dresses in perfection—no, you don5t know how wellshe dresses. % can5t think where they get their taste.

ut, my dear aunt, she is not, after all, a *omanche savage.

She is a young lady, said 1rs. *ostello, who has an intimacy with her mamma5scourier.An intimacy with the courier6 the young man demanded.#h, the mother is 3ust as bad7 They treat the courier like a familiar friend—like a

gentleman. % shouldn5t wonder if he dines with them. Very likely they have never seena man with such good manners, such fine clothes, so like a gentleman. +e probably



corresponds to the young lady5s idea of a count. +e sits with them in the garden in theevening. % think he smokes.

4interbourne listened with interest to these disclosures' they helped him to makeup his mind about 1iss 0aisy. 8vidently she was rather wild. 4ell, he said, % amnot a courier, and yet she was very charming to me.

)ou had better have said at first, said 1rs. *ostello with dignity, that you hadmade her ac2uaintance.

4e simply met in the garden, and we talked a bit.Tout bonnement7 And pray what did you say6% said % should take the liberty of introducing her to my admirable aunt.% am much obliged to you.%t was to guarantee my respectability, said 4interbourne.And pray who is to guarantee hers6

Ah, you are cruel7 said the young man. She5s a very nice young girl.)ou don5t say that as if you believed it, 1rs. *ostello observed.She is completely uncultivated, 4interbourne went on. ut she is wonderfully

pretty, and, in short, she is very nice. To prove that % believe it, % am going to take her to the *hateau de *hillon.

)ou two are going off there together6 % should say it proved 3ust the contrary. +owlong had you known her, may % ask, when this interesting pro3ect was formed6 )ouhaven5t been twenty!four hours in the house.

% have known her half an hour7 said 4interbourne, smiling.0ear me7 cried 1rs. *ostello. 4hat a dreadful girl7

+er nephew was silent for some moments. )ou really think, then, he beganearnestly, and with a desire for trustworthy information— you really think that—

ut he paused again.Think what, sir6 said his aunt.That she is the sort of young lady who e$pects a man, sooner or later, to carry her

off6% haven5t the least idea what such young ladies e$pect a man to do. ut % really

think that you had better not meddle with little American girls that are uncultivated, asyou call them. )ou have lived too long out of the country. )ou will be sure to makesome great mistake. )ou are too innocent.

1y dear aunt, % am not so innocent, said 4interbourne, smiling and curling hismustache.

)ou are guilty too, then7



4interbourne continued to curl his mustache meditatively. )ou won5t let the poor girl know you then6 he asked at last.

%s it literally true that she is going to the *hateau de *hillon with you6% think that she fully intends it.

Then, my dear 9rederick, said 1rs. *ostello, % must decline the honor of her ac2uaintance. % am an old woman, but % am not too old, thank +eaven, to be shocked7

ut don5t they all do these things—the young girls in America6 4interbournein2uired.

1rs. *ostello stared a moment. % should like to see my granddaughters do them7she declared grimly.

This seemed to throw some light upon the matter, for 4interbourne remembered tohave heard that his pretty cousins in (ew )ork were tremendous flirts. %f, therefore,1iss 0aisy 1iller e$ceeded the liberal margin allowed to these young ladies, it was

probable that anything might be e$pected of her. 4interbourne was impatient to seeher again, and he was ve$ed with himself that, by instinct, he should not appreciateher 3ustly.

Though he was impatient to see her, he hardly knew what he should say to her abouthis aunt5s refusal to become ac2uainted with her' but he discovered, promptly enough,that with 1iss 0aisy 1iller there was no great need of walking on tiptoe. +e foundher that evening in the garden, wandering about in the warm starlight like an indolentsylph, and swinging to and fro the largest fan he had ever beheld. %t was ten o5clock.+e had dined with his aunt, had been sitting with her since dinner, and had 3ust takenleave of her till the morrow. 1iss 0aisy 1iller seemed very glad to see him' she

declared it was the longest evening she had ever passed.+ave you been all alone6 he asked.% have been walking round with mother. ut mother gets tired walking round, she

answered.+as she gone to bed6(o' she doesn5t like to go to bed, said the young girl. She doesn5t sleep—not

three hours. She says she doesn5t know how she lives. She5s dreadfully nervous. %guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She5s gone somewhere after andolph' shewants to try to get him to go to bed. +e doesn5t like to go to bed.

:et us hope she will persuade him, observed 4interbourne.She will talk to him all she can' but he doesn5t like her to talk to him, said 1iss

0aisy, opening her fan. She5s going to try to get 8ugenio to talk to him. ut he isn5tafraid of 8ugenio. 8ugenio5s a splendid courier, but he can5t make much impression on

andolph7 % don5t believe he5ll go to bed before eleven. %t appeared that andolph5svigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged, for 4interbourne strolled about with theyoung girl for some time without meeting her mother. % have been looking round for



that lady you want to introduce me to, his companion resumed. She5s your aunt.Then, on 4interbourne5s admitting the fact and e$pressing some curiosity as to howshe had learned it, she said she had heard all about 1rs. *ostello from thechambermaid. She was very 2uiet and very comme il faut' she wore white puffs' shespoke to no one, and she never dined at the table d5hote. 8very two days she had aheadache. % think that5s a lovely description, headache and all7 said 1iss 0aisy,chattering along in her thin, gay voice. % want to know her ever so much. % know 3ustwhat )#; aunt would be' % know % should like her. She would be very e$clusive. %like a lady to be e$clusive' %5m dying to be e$clusive myself. 4ell, we A 8 e$clusive,mother and %. 4e don5t speak to everyone—or they don5t speak to us. % suppose it5sabout the same thing. Anyway, % shall be ever so glad to know your aunt.

4interbourne was embarrassed. She would be most happy, he said' but % amafraid those headaches will interfere.

The young girl looked at him through the dusk. ut % suppose she doesn5t have a

headache every day, she said sympathetically.4interbourne was silent a moment. She tells me she does, he answered at last, not

knowing what to say.1iss 0aisy 1iller stopped and stood looking at him. +er prettiness was still visible

in the darkness' she was opening and closing her enormous fan. She doesn5t want toknow me7 she said suddenly. 4hy don5t you say so6 )ou needn5t be afraid. %5m notafraid7 And she gave a little laugh.

4interbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice' he was touched, shocked,mortified by it. 1y dear young lady, he protested, she knows no one. %t5s her

wretched health.The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. )ou needn5t be afraid, sherepeated. 4hy should she want to know me6 Then she paused again' she was closeto the parapet of the garden, and in front of her was the starlit lake. There was a vaguesheen upon its surface, and in the distance were dimly seen mountain forms. 0aisy1iller looked out upon the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh.

"racious7 she %S e$clusive7 she said. 4interbourne wondered whether she wasseriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense of in3ury might besuch as to make it becoming in him to attempt to reassure and comfort her. +e had a

pleasant sense that she would be very approachable for consolatory purposes. +e felt

then, for the instant, 2uite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally' to admit thatshe was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn5t mind her. ut before hehad time to commit himself to this perilous mi$ture of gallantry and impiety, theyoung lady, resuming her walk, gave an e$clamation in 2uite another tone. 4ell,here5s 1other7 % guess she hasn5t got andolph to go to bed. The figure of a ladyappeared at a distance, very indistinct in the darkness, and advancing with a slow andwavering movement. Suddenly it seemed to pause.



Are you sure it is your mother6 *an you distinguish her in this thick dusk64interbourne asked.

4ell7 cried 1iss 0aisy 1iller with a laugh' % guess % know my own mother. Andwhen she has got on my shawl, too7 She is always wearing my things.

The lady in 2uestion, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot at whichshe had checked her steps.% am afraid your mother doesn5t see you, said 4interbourne. #r perhaps, he

added, thinking, with 1iss 1iller, the 3oke permissible— perhaps she feels guiltyabout your shawl.

#h, it5s a fearful old thing7 the young girl replied serenely. % told her she couldwear it. She won5t come here because she sees you.

Ah, then, said 4interbourne, % had better leave you.#h, no' come on7 urged 1iss 0aisy 1iller.

%5m afraid your mother doesn5t approve of my walking with you.1iss 1iller gave him a serious glance. %t isn5t for me' it5s for you—that is, it5s for

+8 . 4ell, % don5t know who it5s for7 ut mother doesn5t like any of my gentlemenfriends. She5s right down timid. She always makes a fuss if % introduce a gentleman.

ut % 0# introduce them—almost always. %f % didn5t introduce my gentlemen friendsto 1other, the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, % shouldn5t think %was natural.

To introduce me, said 4interbourne, you must know my name. And he proceeded to pronounce it.

#h, dear, % can5t say all that7 said his companion with a laugh. ut by this timethey had come up to 1rs. 1iller, who, as they drew near, walked to the parapet of thegarden and leaned upon it, looking intently at the lake and turning her back to them.

1other7 said the young girl in a tone of decision. ;pon this the elder lady turnedround. 1r. 4interbourne, said 1iss 0aisy 1iller, introducing the young man veryfrankly and prettily. *ommon, she was, as 1rs. *ostello had pronounced her' yet itwas a wonder to 4interbourne that, with her commonness, she had a singularlydelicate grace.

+er mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye, a very e$iguousnose, and a large forehead, decorated with a certain amount of thin, much frizzled

hair. :ike her daughter, 1rs. 1iller was dressed with e$treme elegance' she hadenormous diamonds in her ears. So far as 4interbourne could observe, she gave himno greeting—she certainly was not looking at him. 0aisy was near her, pulling her shawl straight. 4hat are you doing, poking round here6 this young lady in2uired,

but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice of words may imply.% don5t know, said her mother, turning toward the lake again.% shouldn5t think you5d want that shawl7 0aisy e$claimed.



4ell % do7 her mother answered with a little laugh.0id you get andolph to go to bed6 asked the young girl.(o' % couldn5t induce him, said 1rs. 1iller very gently. +e wants to talk to the

waiter. +e likes to talk to that waiter.

% was telling 1r. 4interbourne, the young girl went on' and to the young man5sear her tone might have indicated that she had been uttering his name all her life.

#h, yes7 said 4interbourne' % have the pleasure of knowing your son.andolph5s mamma was silent' she turned her attention to the lake. ut at last she

spoke. 4ell, % don5t see how he lives7Anyhow, it isn5t so bad as it was at 0over, said 0aisy 1iller.And what occurred at 0over6 4interbourne asked.+e wouldn5t go to bed at all. % guess he sat up all night in the public parlor. +e

wasn5t in bed at twelve o5clock- % know that.

%t was half!past twelve, declared 1rs. 1iller with mild emphasis.0oes he sleep much during the day6 4interbourne demanded.% guess he doesn5t sleep much, 0aisy re3oined.% wish he would7 said her mother. %t seems as if he couldn5t.% think he5s real tiresome, 0aisy pursued.

Then, for some moments, there was silence. 4ell, 0aisy 1iller, said the elder lady, presently, % shouldn5t think you5d want to talk against your own brother7

4ell, he %S tiresome, 1other, said 0aisy, 2uite without the asperity of a retort.

+e5s only nine, urged 1rs. 1iller.4ell, he wouldn5t go to that castle, said the young girl. %5m going there with 1r.

4interbourne.To this announcement, very placidly made, 0aisy5s mamma offered no response.

4interbourne took for granted that she deeply disapproved of the pro3ected e$cursion' but he said to himself that she was a simple, easily managed person, and that a fewdeferential protestations would take the edge from her displeasure. )es, he began'

your daughter has kindly allowed me the honor of being her guide.1rs. 1iller5s wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of appealing air, to

0aisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther, gently humming to herself. % presume you will go in the cars, said her mother.

)es, or in the boat, said 4interbourne.4ell, of course, % don5t know, 1rs. 1iller re3oined. % have never been to that

castle.





% will row you over to *hillon in the starlight.% don5t believe it7 said 0aisy.4ell7 e3aculated the elder lady again.)ou haven5t spoken to me for half an hour, her daughter went on.

% have been having some very pleasant conversation with your mother, said4interbourne.

4ell, % want you to take me out in a boat7 0aisy repeated. They had all stopped,and she had turned round and was looking at 4interbourne. +er face wore a charmingsmile, her pretty eyes were gleaming, she was swinging her great fan about. (o' it5simpossible to be prettier than that, thought 4interbourne.

There are half a dozen boats moored at that landing place, he said, pointing tocertain steps which descended from the garden to the lake. %f you will do me thehonor to accept my arm, we will go and select one of them.

0aisy stood there smiling' she threw back her head and gave a little, light laugh. %like a gentleman to be formal7 she declared.% assure you it5s a formal offer.% was bound % would make you say something, 0aisy went on.)ou see, it5s not very difficult, said 4interbourne. ut % am afraid you are

chaffing me.% think not, sir, remarked 1rs. 1iller very gently.0o, then, let me give you a row, he said to the young girl.%t5s 2uite lovely, the way you say that7 cried 0aisy.%t will be still more lovely to do it.)es, it would be lovely7 said 0aisy. ut she made no movement to accompany

him' she only stood there laughing.% should think you had better find out what time it is, interposed her mother.%t is eleven o5clock, madam, said a voice, with a foreign accent, out of the

neighboring darkness' and 4interbourne, turning, perceived the florid personage whowas in attendance upon the two ladies. +e had apparently 3ust approached.

#h, 8ugenio, said 0aisy, % am going out in a boat78ugenio bowed. At eleven o5clock, mademoiselle6

% am going with 1r. 4interbourne—this very minute.0o tell her she can5t, said 1rs. 1iller to the courier.% think you had better not go out in a boat, mademoiselle, 8ugenio declared.

4interbourne wished to +eaven this pretty girl were not so familiar with her courier' but he said nothing.



% suppose you don5t think it5s proper7 0aisy e$claimed. 8ugenio doesn5t think anything5s proper.

% am at your service, said 4interbourne.0oes mademoiselle propose to go alone6 asked 8ugenio of 1rs. 1iller.

#h, no' with this gentleman7 answered 0aisy5s mamma.The courier looked for a moment at 4interbourne—the latter thought he was

smiling—and then, solemnly, with a bow, As mademoiselle pleases7 he said.#h, % hoped you would make a fuss7 said 0aisy. % don5t care to go now.% myself shall make a fuss if you don5t go, said 4interbourne.That5s all % want—a little fuss7 And the young girl began to laugh again.1r. andolph has gone to bed7 the courier announced frigidly.#h, 0aisy' now we can go7 said 1rs. 1iller.

0aisy turned away from 4interbourne, looking at him, smiling and fanning herself."ood night, she said' % hope you are disappointed, or disgusted, or something7+e looked at her, taking the hand she offered him. % am puzzled, he answered.

4ell, % hope it won5t keep you awake7 she said very smartly' and, under the escortof the privileged 8ugenio, the two ladies passed toward the house.

4interbourne stood looking after them' he was indeed puzzled. +e lingered besidethe lake for a 2uarter of an hour, turning over the mystery of the young girl5s suddenfamiliarities and caprices. ut the only very definite conclusion he came to was thathe should en3oy deucedly going off with her somewhere.

Two days afterward he went off with her to the *astle of *hillon. +e waited for her in the large hall of the hotel, where the couriers, the servants, the foreign tourists, werelounging about and staring. %t was not the place he should have chosen, but she hadappointed it. She came tripping downstairs, buttoning her long gloves, s2ueezing her folded parasol against her pretty figure, dressed in the perfection of a soberly eleganttraveling costume. 4interbourne was a man of imagination and, as our ancestors usedto 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. +e couldhave believed he was going to elope with her. +e passed out with her among all theidle people that were assembled there' they were all looking at her very hard' she had

begun to chatter as soon as she 3oined him. 4interbourne5s preference had been thatthey should be conveyed to *hillon in a carriage' but she e$pressed a lively wish to goin the little steamer' she declared that she had a passion for steamboats. There wasalways such a lovely breeze upon the water, and you saw such lots of people. The sailwas not long, but 4interbourne5s companion found time to say a great many things.To the young man himself their little e$cursion was so much of an escapade—anadventure—that, even allowing for her habitual sense of freedom, he had somee$pectation of seeing her regard it in the same way. ut it must be confessed that, in



this particular, he was disappointed. 0aisy 1iller was e$tremely animated, she was incharming spirits' but she was apparently not at all e$cited' she was not fluttered' sheavoided neither his eyes nor those of anyone else' she blushed neither when shelooked at him nor when she felt that people were looking at her. /eople continued tolook at her a great deal, and 4interbourne took much satisfaction in his prettycompanion5s distinguished air. +e had been a little afraid that she would talk loud,laugh overmuch, and even, perhaps, desire to move about the boat a good deal. ut he2uite forgot his fears' he sat smiling, with his eyes upon her face, while, withoutmoving from her place, she delivered herself of a great number of original reflections.%t was the most charming garrulity he had ever heard. +e had assented to the idea thatshe was common ' but was she so, after all, or was he simply getting used to her commonness6 +er conversation was chiefly of what metaphysicians term theob3ective cast, but every now and then it took a sub3ective turn.

4hat on 8A T+ are you so grave about6 she suddenly demanded, fi$ing her

agreeable eyes upon 4interbourne5s.Am % grave6 he asked. % had an idea % was grinning from ear to ear.)ou look as if you were taking me to a funeral. %f that5s a grin, your ears are very

near together.Should you like me to dance a hornpipe on the deck6/ray do, and %5ll carry round your hat. %t will pay the e$penses of our 3ourney.% never was better pleased in my life, murmured 4interbourne.

She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh. % like to make yousay those things7 )ou5re a 2ueer mi$ture7

%n the castle, after they had landed, the sub3ective element decidedly prevailed.0aisy tripped about the vaulted chambers, rustled her skirts in the corkscrewstaircases, flirted back with a pretty little cry and a shudder from the edge of theoubliettes, and turned a singularly well!shaped ear to everything that 4interbournetold her about the place. ut he saw that she cared very little for feudal anti2uities andthat the dusky traditions of *hillon made but a slight impression upon her. They hadthe good fortune to have been able to walk about without other companionship thanthat of the custodian' and 4interbourne arranged with this functionary that theyshould not be hurried—that they should linger and pause wherever they chose. Thecustodian interpreted the bargain generously—4interbourne, on his side, had beengenerous—and ended by leaving them 2uite to themselves. 1iss 1iller5s observationswere not remarkable for logical consistency' for anything she wanted to say she wassure to find a prete$t. She found a great many prete$ts in the rugged embrasures of *hillon for asking 4interbourne sudden 2uestions about himself—his family, his

previous history, his tastes, his habits, his intentions—and for supplying informationupon corresponding points in her own personality. #f her own tastes, habits, and



intentions 1iss 1iller was prepared to give the most definite, and indeed the mostfavorable account.

4ell, % hope you know enough7 she said to her companion, after he had told her the history of the unhappy onivard. % never saw a man that knew so much7 Thehistory of onivard had evidently, as they say, gone into one ear and out of the other.

ut 0aisy went on to say that she wished 4interbourne would travel with them andgo round with them' they might know something, in that case. 0on5t you want to

come and teach andolph6 she asked. 4interbourne said that nothing could possibly please him so much, but that he had unfortunately other occupations. #ther occupations6 % don5t believe it7 said 1iss 0aisy. 4hat do you mean6 )ou are not in

business. The young man admitted that he was not in business' but he hadengagements which, even within a day or two, would force him to go back to "eneva.

#h, bother7 she said' % don5t believe it7 and she began to talk about something else.ut a few moments later, when he was pointing out to her the pretty design of an

anti2ue fireplace, she broke out irrelevantly, )ou don5t mean to say you are going back to "eneva6%t is a melancholy fact that % shall have to return to "eneva tomorrow.4ell, 1r. 4interbourne, said 0aisy, % think you5re horrid7#h, don5t say such dreadful things7 said 4interbourne— 3ust at the last7The last7 cried the young girl' % call it the first. % have half a mind to leave you

here and go straight back to the hotel alone. And for the ne$t ten minutes she didnothing but call him horrid. /oor 4interbourne was fairly bewildered' no young ladyhad as yet done him the honor to be so agitated by the announcement of his

movements. +is companion, after this, ceased to pay any attention to the curiosities of *hillon or the beauties of the lake' she opened fire upon the mysterious charmer in"eneva whom she appeared to have instantly taken it for granted that he was hurrying

back to see. +ow did 1iss 0aisy 1iller know that there was a charmer in "eneva64interbourne, who denied the e$istence of such a person, was 2uite unable todiscover, and he was divided between amazement at the rapidity of her induction andamusement at the frankness of her persiflage. She seemed to him, in all this, ane$traordinary mi$ture of innocence and crudity. 0oes she never allow you more thanthree days at a time6 asked 0aisy ironically. 0oesn5t she give you a vacation insummer6 There5s no one so hard worked but they can get leave to go off somewhere at

this season. % suppose, if you stay another day, she5ll come after you in the boat. 0owait over till 9riday, and % will go down to the landing to see her arrive74interbourne began to think he had been wrong to feel disappointed in the temper inwhich the young lady had embarked. %f he had missed the personal accent, the

personal accent was now making its appearance. %t sounded very distinctly, at last, inher telling him she would stop teasing him if he would promise her solemnly tocome down to ome in the winter.



That5s not a difficult promise to make, said 4interbourne. 1y aunt has taken anapartment in ome for the winter and has already asked me to come and see her.

% don5t want you to come for your aunt, said 0aisy' % want you to come for me.And this was the only allusion that the young man was ever to hear her make to hisinvidious kinswoman. +e declared that, at any rate, he would certainly come. After this 0aisy stopped teasing. 4interbourne took a carriage, and they drove back toVevey in the dusk' the young girl was very 2uiet.

%n the evening 4interbourne mentioned to 1rs. *ostello that he had spent theafternoon at *hillon with 1iss 0aisy 1iller.

The Americans—of the courier6 asked this lady.Ah, happily, said 4interbourne, the courier stayed at home.She went with you all alone6All alone.

1rs. *ostello sniffed a little at her smelling bottle. And that, she e$claimed, isthe young person whom you wanted me to know7

Documents

Daisy Miller PART I-2