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1"Have you been all alone?" he asked. "I have been walking round with mother. But mother gets tired walking round," she
2answered. "Has she gone to bed?" "No; she doesn't like to go to bed," said the young girl. "She doesn't sleep--not three
3hours. She says she doesn't know how she lives. She's dreadfully nervous. I guess she sleeps more than she thinks. She's
4gone somewhere after Randolph; she wants to try to get him to go to bed. He doesn't like to go to bed." "Let us hope she
5will persuade him," observed Winterbourne. "She will talk to him all she can; but he doesn't like her to talk to him,"
6said Miss Daisy, opening her fan. "She's going to try to get Eugenio to talk to him. But he isn't afraid of Eugenio.
7Eugenio's a splendid courier, but he can't make much impression on Randolph! I don't believe he'll go to bed before
8eleven." It appeared that Randolph's vigil was in fact triumphantly prolonged, for Winterbourne strolled about with the
9young girl for some time without meeting her mother. "I have been looking round for that lady you want to introduce me
10to," his companion resumed. "She's your aunt." Then, on Winterbourne's admitting the fact and expressing some curiosity
11as to how she had learned it, she said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid. She was very quiet
12and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no one, and she never dined at the table d'hote. Every two
13days she had a headache. "I think that's a lovely description, headache and all!" said Miss Daisy, chattering along in
14her 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.
15She would be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive; I'm dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive,
16mother and I. We don't speak to everyone--or they don't speak to us. I suppose it's about the same thing. Anyway, I
17shall be ever so glad to know your aunt." Winterbourne was embarrassed. "She would be most happy," he said; "but I am
18afraid those headaches will interfere." The young girl looked at him through the dusk. "But I suppose she doesn't have a
19headache every day," she said sympathetically. Winterbourne was silent a moment. "She tells me she does," he answered at
20last, not knowing what to say. Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness was still visible in
21the darkness; she was opening and closing her enormous fan. "She doesn't want to know me!" she said suddenly. "Why don't
22you say so? You needn't be afraid. I'm not afraid!" And she gave a little laugh. Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor
23in her voice; he was touched, shocked, mortified by it. "My dear young lady," he protested, "she knows no one. It's her
24wretched health." The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. "You needn't be afraid," she repeated. "Why
25should she want to know me?" Then she paused again; she was close to the parapet of the garden, and in front of her was
26the starlit lake. There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in the distance were dimly seen mountain forms. Daisy
27Miller looked out upon the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh. "Gracious! she IS exclusive!" she
28said. Winterbourne wondered whether she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense of injury
29might be such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to reassure and comfort her. He had a pleasant sense that she
30would be very approachable for consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant, quite ready to sacrifice his aunt,
31conversationally; to admit that she was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn't mind her. But before he
32had time to commit himself to this perilous mixture of gallantry and impiety, the young lady, resuming her walk, gave an
33exclamation in quite another tone. "Well, here's Mother! I guess she hasn't got Randolph to go to bed." The figure of a
34lady appeared at a distance, very indistinct in the darkness, and advancing with a slow and wavering movement. Suddenly
35it seemed to pause. "Are you sure it is your mother? Can you distinguish her in this thick dusk?" Winterbourne asked.
36"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
37is always wearing my things." The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot at which she had
38checked her steps. "I am afraid your mother doesn't see you," said Winterbourne. "Or perhaps," he added, thinking, with
39Miss Miller, the joke permissible--"perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl." "Oh, it's a fearful old thing!" the
40young girl replied serenely. "I told her she could wear it. She won't come here because she sees you." "Ah, then," said
41Winterbourne, "I had better leave you." "Oh, no; come on!" urged Miss Daisy Miller. "I'm afraid your mother doesn't
42approve of my walking with you." Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. "It isn't for me; it's for you--that is, it's
43for HER. Well, I don't know who it's for! But mother doesn't like any of my gentlemen friends. She's right down timid.
44She always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce them--almost always. If I didn't introduce my
45gentlemen friends to Mother," the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, "I shouldn't think I was natural."
46"To introduce me," said Winterbourne, "you must know my name." And he proceeded to pronounce it. "Oh, dear, I can't say
47all that!" said his companion with a laugh. But by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near,
48walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently at the lake and turning her back to them.
49"Mother!" said the young girl in a tone of decision. Upon this the elder lady turned round. "Mr. Winterbourne," said
50Miss Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very frankly and prettily. "Common," she was, as Mrs. Costello had
51pronounced her; yet it was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness, she had a singularly delicate grace. Her
52mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye, a very exiguous nose, and a large forehead, decorated
53with a certain amount of thin, much frizzled hair. Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was dressed with extreme elegance; she
54had enormous diamonds in her ears. So far as Winterbourne could observe, she gave him no greeting--she certainly was not
55looking at him. Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl straight. "What are you doing, poking round here?" this young lady
56inquired, but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice of words may imply. "I don't know," said her
57mother, turning toward the lake again. "I shouldn't think you'd want that shawl!" Daisy exclaimed. "Well I do!" her
58mother answered with a little laugh. "Did you get Randolph to go to bed?" asked the young girl. "No; I couldn't induce
59him," said Mrs. Miller very gently. "He wants to talk to the waiter. He likes to talk to that waiter." "I was telling
60Mr. Winterbourne," the young girl went on; and to the young man's ear her tone might have indicated that she had been
61uttering his name all her life. "Oh, yes!" said Winterbourne; "I have the pleasure of knowing your son." Randolph's
62mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake. But at last she spoke. "Well, I don't see how he lives!"
63"Anyhow, it isn't so bad as it was at Dover," said Daisy Miller. "And what occurred at Dover?" Winterbourne asked. "He
64wouldn't go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public parlor. He wasn't in bed at twelve o'clock: I know
65that." "It was half-past twelve," declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis. "Does he sleep much during the day?"
66Winterbourne demanded. "I guess he doesn't sleep much," Daisy rejoined. "I wish he would!" said her mother. "It seems as
67if he couldn't." "I think he's real tiresome," Daisy pursued. Then, for some moments, there was silence. "Well, Daisy
68Miller," said the elder lady, presently, "I shouldn't think you'd want to talk against your own brother!" "Well, he IS
69tiresome, Mother," said Daisy, quite without the asperity of a retort. "He's only nine," urged Mrs. Miller. "Well, he
70wouldn't go to that castle," said the young girl. "I'm going there with Mr. Winterbourne."
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