章节正文
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, slightlymonotonous 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 extremelyinnocent.
Some people had told him that, after all, American girls
were exceedinglyinnocent; 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;
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, slightlymonotonous 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 extremelyinnocent.
Some people had told him that, after all, American girls
were exceedinglyinnocent; 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;
- obvious [´ɔbviəs]
a.明显的；显而易见的 (初中英语单词) - standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- intimate [´intimit] a.亲密的 n.知己 (初中英语单词)
- instruction [in´strʌkʃən] n.教育；训练；指导 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- charming [´tʃɑ:miŋ] a.可爱的；极好的 (初中英语单词)
- constantly [´kɔnstəntli] ad.经常地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- agreeable [ə´gri:əbəl] a.适合的；符合的 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- accuse [ə´kju:z] vt.谴责；控告，告发 (初中英语单词)
- actual [´æktʃuəl] a.现实的；实际的 (初中英语单词)
- appreciate [ə´pri:ʃieit] v.评价；珍惜；感激 (初中英语单词)
- instinct [´instiŋkt] n.本能；直觉；天资 (初中英语单词)
- extremely [ik´stri:mli] ad.极端地；非常地 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- grateful [´greitful] a.感谢的；令人愉快的 (初中英语单词)
- apparent [ə´pærənt] a.显然的；表面上的 (初中英语单词)
- formerly [´fɔ:məli] ad.从前，以前 (初中英语单词)
- dreadfully [dredfuli] ad.可怕地；糟透地 (初中英语单词)
- conscious [´kɔnʃəs] a.意识的；自觉的 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- program [´prəugræm] n.说明v.为...安排节目 (初中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- sphere [sfiə] n.圆体；天体；范围 (高中英语单词)
- celestial [si´lestiəl] a.天空的，天的 (高中英语单词)
- converse [´kɔnvə:s] n.交谈 a.相反的 (高中英语单词)
- decidedly [di´saididli] ad.坚决地，果断地 (高中英语单词)
- frightful [´fraitfəl] a.可怕的；不愉快的 (高中英语单词)
- potential [pə´tenʃəl] n.&a.潜在的；可能的 (高中英语单词)
- geneva [dʒi´ni:və] n.日内瓦 (高中英语单词)
- pronounced [prə´naunst] a.发出音的；显著的 (高中英语单词)
- exceedingly [ik´si:diŋli] ad.非常地，极度地 (高中英语单词)
- liable [´laiəbəl] a.易于...的；有责任的 (高中英语单词)
- superficial [,su:pə´fiʃəl, ,sju:-] a.表面的，肤浅的 (英语四级单词)
- miller [´milə] n.磨坊主；铣床(工) (英语四级单词)
- monotonous [mə´nɔtənəs] a.单(音)调的 (英语四级单词)
- intercourse [´intəkɔ:s] n.交际；往来；交流 (英语四级单词)
- chateau [´ʃætəu] n.城堡；公馆，邸宅 (英语四级单词)
- audacity [ɔ:´dæsiti] n.大胆；卤莽；无礼 (英语四级单词)
- expressive [ik´spresiv] a.有表现力的 (英语六级单词)
- visage [´vizidʒ] n.面容，面貌 (英语六级单词)
- mockery [´mɔkəri] n.嘲笑；笑柄 (英语六级单词)
- departed [di´pɑ:tid] a.已往的；已故的 (英语六级单词)
- tranquil [´træŋkwil] a.平静的，稳定的 (英语六级单词)
- deportment [di´pɔ:tmənt] n.举止，风度；品行 (英语六级单词)
- applied [ə´plaid] a.实用的，应用的 (英语六级单词)
- courier [´kuriə] n.送急件的人；信使 (英语六级单词)
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