"The Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr. Winterbourne were as polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with me!"Winterbourne's politeness hastened to affirm itself, and the young girl gave him gracious leave to accompany her.
They passed downstairs before her mother, and at the door Winterbourne perceived Mrs. Miller's carriage drawn up, with the ornamental courier whose acquaintance he had made at Vevey seated within.
"Goodbye, Eugenio!" cried Daisy; "I'm going to take a walk."The distance from the Via Gregoriana to the beautiful garden at the other end of the Pincian Hill is, in fact, rapidly traversed. As the day was splendid, however, and the concourse of vehicles, walkers, and loungers numerous, the young Americans found their progress much delayed.
This fact was highly agreeable to Winterbourne, in spite of his consciousness of his singular situation. The slow-moving, idly gazing Roman crowd bestowed much attention upon the extremely pretty young foreign lady who was passing through it upon his arm;and he wondered what on earth had been in Daisy's mind when she proposed to expose herself, unattended, to its appreciation.
His own mission, to her sense, apparently, was to consign her to the hands of Mr. Giovanelli; but Winterbourne, at once annoyed and gratified, resolved that he would do no such thing.
"Why haven't you been to see me?" asked Daisy. "You can't get out of that.""I have had the honor of telling you that I have only just stepped out of the train.""You must have stayed in the train a good while after it stopped!"cried the young girl with her little laugh. "I suppose you were asleep.
You have had time to go to see Mrs. Walker."
"I knew Mrs. Walker--" Winterbourne began to explain.
"I know where you knew her. You knew her at Geneva.
She told me so. Well, you knew me at Vevey. That's just as good.
So you ought to have come." She asked him no other question than this; she began to prattle about her own affairs.
"We've got splendid rooms at the hotel; Eugenio says they're the best rooms in Rome. We are going to stay all winter, if we don't die of the fever; and I guess we'll stay then.
It's a great deal nicer than I thought; I thought it would be fearfully quiet; I was sure it would be awfully poky.
I was sure we should be going round all the time with one of those dreadful old men that explain about the pictures and things.
But we only had about a week of that, and now I'm enjoying myself.
I know ever so many people, and they are all so charming.
The society's extremely select. There are all kinds--English, and Germans, and Italians. I think I like the English best.
I like their style of conversation. But there are some lovely Americans. I never saw anything so hospitable.
There's something or other every day. There's not much dancing;but I must say I never thought dancing was everything.
I was always fond of conversation. I guess I shall have plenty at Mrs. Walker's, her rooms are so small."When they had passed the gate of the Pincian Gardens, Miss Miller began to wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might be.
"We had better go straight to that place in front," she said, "where you look at the view.""I certainly shall not help you to find him," Winterbourne declared.
"Then I shall find him without you," cried Miss Daisy.
"You certainly won't leave me!" cried Winterbourne.
She burst into her little laugh. "Are you afraid you'll get lost--or run over? But there's Giovanelli, leaning against that tree.
He's staring at the women in the carriages: did you ever see anything so cool?"Winterbourne perceived at some distance a little man standing with folded arms nursing his cane. He had a handsome face, an artfully poised hat, a glass in one eye, and a nosegay in his buttonhole.
Winterbourne looked at him a moment and then said, "Do you mean to speak to that man?""Do I mean to speak to him? Why, you don't suppose I mean to communicate by signs?""Pray understand, then," said Winterbourne, "that I intend to remain with you."Daisy stopped and looked at him, without a sign of troubled consciousness in her face, with nothing but the presence of her charming eyes and her happy dimples. "Well, she's a cool one!"thought the young man.
"I don't like the way you say that," said Daisy.
"It's too imperious."
"I beg your pardon if I say it wrong. The main point is to give you an idea of my meaning."The young girl looked at him more gravely, but with eyes that were prettier than ever. "I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me, or to interfere with anything I do.""I think you have made a mistake," said Winterbourne.
"You should sometimes listen to a gentleman--the right one."Daisy began to laugh again. "I do nothing but listen to gentlemen!"she exclaimed. "Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?"The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two friends, and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity. He bowed to Winterbourne as well as to the latter's companion; he had a brilliant smile, an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a bad-looking fellow.
But he nevertheless said to Daisy, "No, he's not the right one."Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions;she mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other.
She strolled alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli, who spoke English very cleverly--Winterbourne afterward learned that he had practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses--addressed her a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely urbane, and the young American, who said nothing, reflected upon that profundity of Italian cleverness which enables people to appear more gracious in proportion as they are more acutely disappointed.
Giovanelli, of course, had counted upon something more intimate;he had not bargained for a party of three. But he kept his temper in a manner which suggested far-stretching intentions.
Winterbourne flattered himself that he had taken his measure.