ونی، سوئیس

CHAPTER ONE

Veney, Switzerland

Vevey is a beautiful little town on the shore of a very blue lake in Switzerland. Tourism is the business of the place, and there are many hotels. American tourists particularly like the hotel called the Trois Couronnes. Two years ago, a young American named Frederick Winterbourne spent a few days there. He had come from Geneva to see his aunt, Mrs Costello, who was staying at the Trois Couronnes. The morning after Winterbourne arrived in Vevey, his aunt had a headache, so he was free to sit in the garden of the hotel and enjoy its beauties. He sat by the wall, looking out at the Castle of Chillon, which stood on a small island in the lake.

Winterbourne was twenty-seven years old and had lived in Geneva for a long time. He had been at school and university there. When his friends spoke of him, they usually said that he was at Geneva ‘studying’. When certain other people spoke of him they said that he spent so much time in Geneva because he was very attached to a lady who lived there - a European lady - a person older than himself. None of his American friends had ever met this lady.

As Winterbourne was drinking his coffee in the garden of the Trois Couronnes, a small boy came up to him and said, ‘Can you give me a lump of sugar?’

Winterbourne noticed that the boy spoke with an American accent. He pointed to the bowl of sugar and said, ‘Take one, but I don’t think sugar is good for little boys.’

The boy took three lumps of sugar. He put two in his pocket and one in his mouth. ‘I eat sugar lumps,’ he said, ‘because I can’t get any candy here. American candy is the best.’

‘And are American boys the best?’ asked Winterbourne.

‘I don’t know,’ said the child. ‘I am an American boy. Are you an American man?’

‘Yes.’

‘American men are the best!’ said the boy. Then, looking round, he added, ‘Here comes my sister!’

Winterbourne looked up and saw a beautiful young lady coming towards them. ‘American girls are the best!’ he said cheerfully to his companion.

‘My sister isn’t the best,’ said the boy. ‘She’s always criticising me.’

‘That’s probably your fault, not hers,’ said Winterbourne. The young lady was dressed very elegantly in white. ‘How pretty they are!’ thought Winterbourne, preparing to get up.

The young lady stopped in front of him. She looked out over the blue lake. ‘Randolph!’ she said. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m talking to this man,’ said Randolph. ‘He’s an American.’

Winterbourne stood up and said, ‘Your brother and I have been discussing America.’ He felt a little embarrassed: in Geneva, a gentleman could not speak to a young lady without being formally introduced. The young lady looked at him quickly then looked back at the lake.

‘We’ve been talking about American candy,’ said the boy. ‘I don’t want to go to Italy. I want to go home to America!’

‘Are you going to Italy?’ asked Winterbourne.

‘Yes,’ replied the young lady.

‘Italy is a beautiful place.’

‘But can you get any candy there?’ asked Randolph.

‘I think you’ve had enough candy,’ said his sister, ‘and Mother thinks so too.’

‘Isn’t this a splendid lake?’ said Winterbourne. He no longer felt embarrassed, because he realised that the young lady did not feel embarrassed. When she looked at him, her eyes were honest and fresh. They were very pretty eyes. In fact, she was the prettiest girl he had seen for a long time. Her face was delicate but perhaps a little vulgar; it was bright, sweet, and superficial. He thought that she might be a flirt, but her expression was too innocent. Before long, she was speaking to him freely. She told him that she was going to Rome for the winter with her mother and Randolph. She told him that she was from New York State.

‘Her name’s Daisy Miller,’ said Randolph. ‘But that isn’t her real name. Her real name is Annie P. Miller. And my father’s name is Ezra B. Miller. He’s back in New York State. He’s got a big business. My father’s rich.’

Miss Miller sat down and talked to Winterbourne while Randolph ran round the garden. She talked a lot - about her family, about her travels in Europe, about the hotels and the trains. Sometimes she looked at Winterbourne, and sometimes she looked out at the lake.

‘The hotels are very good,’ said Miss Daisy Miller. ‘And I think Europe is perfectly sweet. I’m not disappointed - not at all. I knew a lot about Europe before I came here. I have lots of friends at home who have travelled in Europe, and they told me all about it. And back home I have lots of dresses from Paris…’

Winterbourne enjoyed this conversation. It was many years since he had heard a young girl talk so much.

‘The only thing I don’t like about Europe is the society,’ said Miss Miller. ‘I like society. Last winter seventeen dinners were given in my honour, three of them by gentlemen.’ She looked at him with her slightly monotonous smile and said, ‘I’ve always had a lot of gentlemen friends.’

Winterbourne was amused, perplexed, and charmed. He felt that he had lived too long in Geneva and therefore could no longer understand young American girls. He had never met a girl like this before. Was she simply a pretty girl from New York - were they all like that? Or was she an immoral young woman? She looked extremely innocent. Winterbourne decided that she was just a pretty American flirt. He was happy to have found a formula to describe Miss Daisy Miller.

‘Have you been to that old castle?’ asked Miss Miller, pointing to the Castle of Chillon.

‘Yes.’

‘I want to go there, but Randolph doesn’t want to go.’

‘You could ask someone to stay with Randolph at the hotel.’

‘Will you stay with him?’

‘Can’t I come to the Castle of Chillon with you?’ asked Winterbourne. He was afraid that he had offended her, but she did not blush. ‘And your mother, of course,’ he said very respectfully.

‘Oh, Mother won’t come,’ said Miss Daisy Miller. ‘She’ll stay with Randolph, and Eugenio will stay too - he’s our courier - so we can go to the castle.’

Winterbourne thought, ‘“We” can only mean Miss Miller and I, it’s too good to be true!’

At that moment Eugenio came up to them. He looked at Winterbourne with suspicion then said, ‘Lunch is ready, mademoiselle.’

‘Oh, Eugenio!’ Daisy Miller replied, ‘I’m going to that old castle anyway.’

‘Really?’ said Eugenio. He looked at Winterbourne disrespectfully.

Miss Miller blushed a little. ‘We are going, aren’t we?’ she asked Winterbourne.

‘I won’t be happy until we go!’ he said.

‘And you are staying at this hotel?’ she continued. ‘And you really are an American?’

‘I’ll introduce you to my aunt, Mrs Costello. She can tell you all about me.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Daisy Miller, ‘we’ll go some day.’ She smiled at Winterbourne and walked back to the hotel with Eugenio.