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Page 25
"Well, Daisy's all dressed," said Mrs. Miller with that accent of
the dispassionate, if not of the philosophic, historian with which she
always recorded the current incidents of her daughter's career.
"She got dressed on purpose before dinner. But she's got a friend
of hers there; that gentleman--the Italian--that she wanted to bring.
They've got going at the piano; it seems as if they couldn't leave off.
Mr. Giovanelli sings splendidly. But I guess they'll come before very long,"
concluded Mrs. Miller hopefully.
"I'm sorry she should come in that way," said Mrs. Walker.
"Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
dinner if she was going to wait three hours," responded Daisy's mamma.
"I didn't see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit
round with Mr. Giovanelli."
"This is most horrible!" said Mrs. Walker, turning away and
addressing herself to Winterbourne. "Elle s'affiche. It's
her revenge for my having ventured to remonstrate with her.
When she comes, I shall not speak to her."
Daisy came after eleven o'clock; but she was not,
on such an occasion, a young lady to wait to be spoken to.
She rustled forward in radiant loveliness, smiling and chattering,
carrying a large bouquet, and attended by Mr. Giovanelli.
Everyone stopped talking and turned and looked at her.
She came straight to Mrs. Walker. "I'm afraid you thought
I never was coming, so I sent mother off to tell you.
I wanted to make Mr. Giovanelli practice some things before he came;
you know he sings beautifully, and I want you to ask him to sing.
This is Mr. Giovanelli; you know I introduced him to you;
he's got the most lovely voice, and he knows the most charming
set of songs. I made him go over them this evening on purpose;
we had the greatest time at the hotel." Of all this Daisy delivered
herself with the sweetest, brightest audibleness, looking now
at her hostess and now round the room, while she gave a series
of little pats, round her shoulders, to the edges of her dress.
"Is there anyone I know?" she asked.
"I think every one knows you!" said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she
gave a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore
himself gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth;
he curled his mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all
the proper functions of a handsome Italian at an evening party.
He sang very prettily half a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward
declared that she had been quite unable to find out who asked him.
It was apparently not Daisy who had given him his orders.
Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and though she had publicly,
as it were, professed a high admiration for his singing, talked,
not inaudibly, while it was going on.
"It's a pity these rooms are so small; we can't dance," she said
to Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
"I am not sorry we can't dance," Winterbourne answered;
"I don't dance."
"Of course you don't dance; you're too stiff," said Miss Daisy.
"I hope you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!"
"No. I didn't enjoy it; I preferred walking with you."
"We paired off: that was much better," said Daisy.
"But did you ever hear anything so cool as Mrs. Walker's
wanting me to get into her carriage and drop poor
Mr. Giovanelli, and under the pretext that it was proper?
People have different ideas! It would have been most unkind;
he had been talking about that walk for ten days."
"He should not have talked about it at all," said Winterbourne;
"he would never have proposed to a young lady of this country
to walk about the streets with him."
"About the streets?" cried Daisy with her pretty stare.
"Where, then, would he have proposed to her to walk?
The Pincio is not the streets, either; and I, thank goodness,
am not a young lady of this country. The young ladies of this
country have a dreadfully poky time of it, so far as I can learn;
I don't see why I should change my habits for THEM."
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