roached Miss Miller, looking sharply at her
companion. "Oh, Eugenio!" said Miss Miller with the friendliest accent.

Eugenio had looked at Winterbourne from head to foot; he now bowed
gravely to the young lady. "I have the honor to inform mademoiselle that
luncheon is upon the table."

Miss Miller slowly rose. "See here, Eugenio!" she said; "I'm going to
that old castle, anyway."

"To the Chateau de Chillon, mademoiselle?" the courier inquired.
"Mademoiselle has made arrangements?" he added in a tone which struck
Winterbourne as very impertinent.

Eugenio's tone apparently threw, even to Miss Miller's own apprehension,
a slightly ironical light upon the young girl's situation. She turned
to Winterbourne, blushing a little--a very little. "You won't back out?"
she said.

"I shall not be happy till we go!" he protested.

"And you are staying in this hotel?" she went on. "And you are really an
American?"

The courier stood looking at Winterbourne offensively. The young man,
at least, thought his manner of looking an offense to Miss Miller; it
conveyed an imputation that she "picked up" acquaintances. "I shall have
the honor of presenting to you a person who will tell you all about me,"
he said, smiling and referring to his aunt.

"Oh, well, we'll go some day," said Miss Miller. And she gave him a
smile and turned away. She put up her parasol and walked back to the inn
beside Eugenio. Winterbourne stood looking after her; and as she moved
away, drawing her muslin furbelows over the gravel, said to himself that
she had the tournure of a princess.

He had, however, engaged to do more than proved feasible, in promising
to present his aunt, Mrs. Costello, to Miss Daisy Miller. As soon as the
former lady had got better of her headache, he waited upon her in her
apartment; and, after the proper inquiries in regard to her health, he
asked her if she had observed in the hotel an American family--a mamma,
a daughter, and a little boy.

"And a courier?" said Mrs. Costello. "Oh yes, I have observed them. Seen
them--heard them--and kept out of their way." Mrs. Costello was a widow
with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently intimated
that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches, she would
probably have left a deeper impress upon her time. She had a long, pale
face, a high nose, and a great deal of very striking white hair, which
she wore in large puffs and rouleaux over the top of her head.