章节正文
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 aughter 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 presentlyrepeated 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
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 aughter 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 presentlyrepeated 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
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ]
n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词) - evident [´evidənt] a.明显的，明白的 (初中英语单词)
- italian [i´tæliən] a.意大利 n.意大利人 (初中英语单词)
- imperial [im´piəriəl] a.帝国的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- interval [´intəvəl] n.间隙；(工间)休息 (初中英语单词)
- affect [ə´fekt] vt.影响；感动；假装 (初中英语单词)
- modest [´mɔdist] a.谦虚的；朴素的 (初中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- efficient [i´fiʃənt] a.有效的，有能力的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- monstrous [´mɔnstrəs] a.怪异的；庞大的 (高中英语单词)
- cemetery [´semitri] n.墓地，公墓 (高中英语单词)
- scandal [´skændl] n.丑闻；耻辱；流言蜚语 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- geneva [dʒi´ni:və] n.日内瓦 (高中英语单词)
- miller [´milə] n.磨坊主；铣床(工) (英语四级单词)
- whence [wens] ad.从何处；从那里 (英语四级单词)
- dangerously [´deindʒrəsli] ad.危险 (英语六级单词)
- judicious [dʒu:´diʃəs] a.明智的；贤明的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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