In the novella's exposition, the narrator offers the reader rich imagery of Vevay, a town that is firmly European but nevertheless brings American society to mind—at least in June, when it hosts a throng of American travelers. The narrator dwells on auditory imagery to demonstrate the town's American atmosphere:
There is a flitting hither and thither of ‘stylish’ young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces, a rattle of dance-music in the morning hours, a sound of high-pitched voices at all times.
This is a selection of the "sights and sounds which evoke a vision, an echo, of Newport and Saratoga." The reader understands that in these American watering-places, one can expect to hear the flitting of girls, the rustling of muslin, the rattle of dance-music, and the chime of high-pitched voices. If these sounds make Vevay feel American, the reader can deduce that a Vevay only frequented by Europeans would feature other noises—or perhaps an absence of noise.
Through the parallel between Vevay and places like Newport and Saratoga, the narrator subtly introduces key factors that differentiate European standards of behavior from American ones. Most importantly, by focusing on sounds and movement, the narrator is suggesting that Americans are louder and more active than Europeans.
At this time of year, Vevay feels like an American watering-place because the soundscape is less muffled and restrained than it would be without the "extremely numerous" American visitors. The reader understands that Americans take more space in a room, play louder music much later into the night, speak more, and speak with a higher pitch than Europeans deem appropriate. It appears that the narrator has spent time in America but still perceives society according to European conventions.
The narrative features a number of American characters, but Daisy and her family are the only ones who don't put effort into masking their difference from Europeans. People like Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Walker cling to European codes of conduct more firmly than Europeans themselves because their biggest fear is standing out. Daisy offends them by not sharing this fear and instead boldly embracing her difference from the people around her. Being in a new environment doesn't make her adjust her behavior, since she doesn't care to assimilate.
In a passage that overflows with visual and olfactory imagery, the narrator uses oxymoron to describe the setting:
A few days after his brief interview with her mother, he encountered her in that beautiful abode of flowering desolation known as the Palace of the Cæsar. [...] He stood looking off at the enchanting harmony of line and color that remotely encircles the city, inhaling the softly humid odors, and feeling the freshness of the year and the antiquity of the place reaffirm themselves in mysterious interfusion.
The oxymoron "flowering desolation" captures the gloom that at times accompanies excess. The palace may be full of blossoms, but it is ultimately a relic of the ancient past. This contrast makes Winterbourne feel as though he is surrounded by life and death all at once. Spending the peak of Spring among the ruins of a bygone era leaves him feeling torn. For Winterbourne, who is ultimately an outsider in Rome, the Palace of the Ceasar is both inviting and inhospitable.
Later in the passage, the narrator comments on how, in Spring, the city is simultaneously fresh and ancient. This blends together in a "mysterious interfusion." These two sets of discordant qualities provide insight into Winterbourne's inner experience at this point in the narrative. Although he continues to feel drawn to Daisy, he nevertheless begins to feel worn out by his frustrating, ambiguous pursuit of her. He is unsure of what he wants out of their relationship and unsure of what he's doing in Rome.
The desolation lurking beneath the flowering prime of the setting hints at Daisy's coming death. This is one of the final times he sees her in full health and vigor. Struck by the complementary beauty of Daisy and the setting, he is left feeling melancholy. Similarly, the ancient atmosphere in Rome reminds Winterbourne of all the people who have passed through the eternal city and subsequently been survived by it. Staring out across Rome seems to remind him of his mortality; he recognizes that his little life is nothing when compared with its enduring vitality.
