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 gentlemens 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 gentlemens 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 respectabilitys sake, with husbands who were great coquettes dangerous, terrible women, with whom ones 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 ones 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 Château de Chillon.
Yes, formerly, more than once, said Winterbourne. You too, I suppose, have seen it?
No; we havent been there. I want to go there dreadfully. Of course I mean to go there. I wouldnt go away from here without having seen that old castle.
Its 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 couldnt go. Randolph wouldnt go either; he says he doesnt think much of old castles. But I guess well go this week, if we can get Randolph.
Your brother is not interested in ancient monuments? Winterbourne inquired, smiling.
He says he dont care much about old castles. Hes only nine. He wants to stay at the hotel. Mothers afraid to leave him alone, and the courier wont stay with him; so we havent been to many places. But it will be too bad if we dont go up there. And Miss Miller pointed again at the Château de Chillon.
I should think it might be arranged, said Winterbourne. Couldnt 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 would much rather go to Chillon with you.
With me? asked the young girl, with the same placidity.
She didnt 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 wont go, after all, she said. She dont 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.
Eugenios our courier. He doesnt like to stay with Randolph; hes the most fastidious man I ever saw. But hes a splendid courier. I guess hell 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 programme seemed almost too agreeable for credence; he felt as if he ought to kiss the young ladys 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.