on a cold january afternoon in 1866, scarlett sat in the office writing a letter to aunt pitty,explaining in detail for the tenth time why neither she, melanie nor ashley could come back toatlanta to live with her. she wrote impatiently because she knew aunt pitty would read no fartherthan the opening lines and then write her again, wailing: “but i’m afraid to live by myself!”
her hands were chilled and she paused to rub them together and to scuff her feet deeper into thestrip of old quilting wrapped about them. the soles of her slippers were practically gone and werereinforced with pieces of carpet. the carpet kept her feet off the floor but did little to keep themwarm. that morning will had taken the horse to jonesboro to get him shod. scarlett thoughtgrimly that things were indeed at a pretty pass when horses had shoes and people’s feet were asbare as yard dogs’.
she picked up her quill to resume her writing but laid it down when she heard will coming in atthe back door. she heard the thump-thump of his wooden leg in the hall outside the office and thenhe stopped. she waited for a moment for him to enter and when he made no move she called tohim. he came in, his ears red from the cold, his pinkish hair awry, and stood looking down at her, afaintly humorous smile on his lips.
“miss scarlett,” he questioned, “just how much cash money have you got?”
“are you going to try to marry me for my money, will?” she asked somewhat crossly.
“no, ma’m. but i just wanted to know.”
she stared at him inquiringly. will didn’t look serious, but then he never looked serious.
however, she felt that something was wrong.
“i’ve got ten dollars in gold,” she said. “the last of that yankee’s money.”
“well, ma’m, that won’t be enough.”
“enough for what?”
“enough for the taxes,” he answered and, stumping over to the fireplace, he leaned down andheld his red hands to the blaze.
“taxes?” she repeated. “name of god, will! we’ve already paid the taxes.”
“yes’m. but they say you didn’t pay enough. i heard about it today over to jonesboro.”
“but, will, i can’t understand. what do you mean?”
“miss scarlett, i sure hate to bother you with more trouble when you’ve had your share but i’vegot to tell you. they say you ought to paid lots more taxes than you did. they’re runnin’ theassessment up on tara sky high—higher than any in the county, i’ll be bound.”
“but they can’t make us pay more taxes when we’ve already paid them once.”
“miss scarlett, you don’t never go to jonesboro often and i’m glad you don’t. it ain’t no placefor a lady these days. but if you’d been there much, you’d know there’s a mighty rough bunch ofscallawags and republicans and carpetbaggers been runnin’ things recently. they’d make youmad enough to pop. and then, too, niggers pushin’ white folks off the sidewalks and—”
“but what’s that got to do with our taxes?”
“i’m gettin’ to it, miss scarlett. for some reason the rascals have histed the taxes on tara tillyou’d think it was a thousand-bale place. after i heard about it, i sorter oozed around the barroomspickin’ up gossip and i found out that somebody wants to buy in tara cheap at the sheriffs sale, ifyou can’t pay the extra taxes. and everybody knows pretty well that you can’t pay them. i don’tknow yet who it is wants this place. i couldn’t find out. but i think that pusillanimous feller,hilton, that married miss cathleen knows, because he laughed kind of nasty when i tried to soundhim out.”
will sat down on the sofa and rubbed the stump of his leg. it ached in cold weather and thewooden peg was neither well padded nor comfortable. scarlett looked at him wildly. his mannerwas so casual when he was sounding the death knell of tara. sold out at the sheriff’s sale? wherewould they all go? and tara belonging to some one else! no, that was unthinkable!
she had been so engrossed with the job of making tara produce she had paid little heed to whatwas going on in the world outside. now that she had will and ashley to attend to whateverbusiness she might have in jonesboro and fayetteville, she seldom left the plantation. and even asshe had listened with deaf ears to her father’s war talk in the days before the war came, so she hadpaid little heed to will and ashley’s discussions around the table after supper about the beginningsof reconstruction.
oh, of course, she knew about the scalawags—southerners who had turned republican veryprofitably—and the carpetbaggers, those yankees who came south like buzzards after thesurrender with all their worldly possessions in one carpetbag. and she had had a few unpleasantexperiences with the freedmen’s bureau. she had gathered, also, that some of the free negroeswere getting quite insolent. this last she could hardly believe, for she had never seen an insolentnegro in her life.
but there were many things which will and ashley had conspired to keep from her. the scourgeof war had been followed by the worse scourge of reconstruction, but the two men had agreed notto mention the more alarming details when they discussed the situation at home. and when scarletttook the trouble to listen to them at all, most of what they said went in one ear and out the other.
she had heard ashley say that the south was being treated as a conquered province and thatvindictiveness was the dominant policy of the conquerors. but that was the kind of statementwhich meant less than nothing at all to scarlett. politics was men’s business. she had heard willsay it looked to him like the north just wasn’t aiming to let the south get on its feet again. well,thought scarlett, men always had to have something foolish to worry about. as far as she wasconcerned, the yankees hadn’t whipped her once and they wouldn’t do it this time. the thing to dowas to work like the devil and stop worrying about the yankee government. after all, the war wasover.
scarlett did not realize that all the rules of the game had been changed and that honest laborcould no longer earn its just reward. georgia was virtually under martial law now. the yankeesoldiers garrisoned throughout the section and the freedmen’s bureau were in complete commandof everything and they were fixing the rules to suit themselves.
this bureau, organized by the federal government to take care of the idle and excited ex-slaves,was drawing them from the plantations into the villages and cities by the thousands. the bureaufed them while they loafed and poisoned their minds against their former owners. gerald’s oldoverseer, jonas wilkerson, was in charge of the local bureau, and his assistant was hilton,cathleen calvert’s husband. these two industriously spread the rumor that the southerners anddemocrats were just waiting for a good chance to put the negroes back into slavery and that thenegroes’ only hope of escaping this fate was the protection given them by the bureau and therepublican party.
wilkerson and hilton furthermore told the negroes they were as good as the whites in every wayand soon white and negro marriages would be permitted, soon the estates of their former ownerswould be divided and every negro would be given forty acres and a mule for his own. they keptthe negroes stirred up with tales of cruelty perpetrated by the whites and, in a section long famedfor the affectionate relations between slaves and slave owners, hate and suspicion began to grow.
the bureau was backed up by the soldiers and the military had issued many and conflictingorders governing the conduct of the conquered. it was easy to get arrested, even for snubbing theofficials of the bureau. military orders had been promulgated concerning the schools, sanitation,the kind of buttons one wore on one’s suit, the sale of commodities and nearly everything else.
wilkerson and hilton had the power to interfere in any trade scarlett might make and to fix theirown prices on anything she sold or swapped.
fortunately scarlett had come into contact with the two men very little, for will had persuadedher to let him handle the trading while she managed the plantation. in his mild-tempered way, willhad straightened out several difficulties of this kind and said nothing to her about them. will couldget along with carpetbaggers and yankees—if he had to. but now a problem had arisen which wastoo big for him to handle. the extra tax assessment and the danger of losing tara were mattersscarlett had to know about—and right away.
she looked at him with flashing eyes.
“oh, damn the yankees!” she cried. “isn’t it enough that they’ve licked us and beggared uswithout turning loose scoundrels on us?”
the war was over, peace had been declared, but the yankees could still rob her, they could stillstarve her, they could still drive her from her house. and fool that she was, she had thoughtthrough weary months that if she could just hold out until spring, everything would be all right.
this crushing news brought by will, coming on top of a year of back-breaking work and hopedeferred, was the last straw.
“oh, will, and i thought our troubles were all over when the war ended!”
“no’m.” will raised his lantern-jawed, country-looking face and gave her a long steady look.
“our troubles are just gettin’ started.”
“how much extra taxes do they want us to pay?”
“three hundred dollars.”
she was struck dumb for a moment. three hundred dollars! it might just as well be three milliondollars.
“why,” she floundered, “why—why, then we’ve got to raise three hundred, somehow.”
“yes’m—add a rainbow and a moon or two.”
“oh, but will! they couldn’t sell out tara. why—”
his mild pale eyes showed more hate and bitterness than she thought possible.
“oh, couldn’t they? well, they could and they will and they’ll like doin’ it! miss scarlett, thecountry’s gone plumb to hell, if you’ll pardon me. those carpetbaggers and scalawags can voteand most of us democrats can’t. can’t no democrat in this state vote if he was on the tax books formore than two thousand dollars in ‘sixty-five. that lets out folks like your pa and mr. tarleton andthe mcraes and the fontaine boys. can’t nobody vote who was a colonel and over in the war and,miss scarlett, i bet this state’s got more colonels than any state in the confederacy. and can’tnobody vote who held office under the confederate government and that lets out everybody fromthe notaries to the judges, and the woods are full of folks like that. fact is, the way the yankeeshave framed up that amnesty oath, can’t nobody who was somebody before the war vote at all. notthe smart folks nor the quality folks nor the rich folks.
“huh! i could vote if i took their damned oath. i didn’t have any money in ‘sixty-five and icertainly warn’t a colonel or nothin’ remarkable. but i ain’t goin’ to take their oath. not by adinged sight! if the yankees had acted right, i’d have taken their oath of allegiance but i ain’t now.
i can be restored to the union but i can’t be reconstructed into it. i ain’t goin’ to take their oatheven if i don’t never vote again— but scum like that hilton feller, he can vote, and scoundrels likejonas wilkerson and pore whites like the slatterys and no-counts like the macintoshes, they canvote. and they’re runnin’ things now. and if they want to come down on you for extra taxes adozen times, they can do it. just like a nigger can kill a white man and not get hung or—” hepaused, embarrassed, and the memory of what had happened to a lone white woman on an isolatedfarm near lovejoy was in both their minds. ... “those niggers can do anything against us and thefreedmen’s bureau and the soldiers will back them up with guns and we can’t vote or do nothin’
about it.”
“vote!” she cried. “vote! what on earth has voting got to do with all this, will? it’s taxes we’re talking about. ... will, everybody knows what a good plantation tara is. we could mortgage it forenough to pay the taxes, if we had to.”
“miss scarlett, you ain’t any fool but sometimes you talk like one. who’s got any money to lendyou on this property? who except the carpetbaggers who are tryin’ to take tara away from you?
why, everybody’s got land. everybody’s land pore. you can’t give away land.”
“i’ve got those diamond earbobs i got off that yankee. we could sell them.”
“miss scarlett, who ‘round here has got money for ear-bobs? folks ain’t got money to buy sidemeat, let alone gewgaws. if you’ve got ten dollars in gold, i take oath that’s more than most folkshave got.”
they were silent again and scarlett felt as if she were butting her head against a stone wall.
there had been so many stone walls to butt against this last year.
“what are we goin’ to do, miss scarlett?”
“i don’t know,” she said dully and felt that she didn’t care. this was one stone wall too manyand she suddenly felt so tired that her bones ached. why should she work and struggle and wearherself out? at the end of every struggle it seemed that defeat was waiting to mock her.
“i don’t know,” she said. “but don’t let pa know. it might worry him.”
“i won’t.”
“have you told anyone?”
“no, i came right to you.”
yes, she thought, everyone always came right to her with bad news and she was tired of it.
“where is mr. wilkes? perhaps he’ll have some suggestion.”
will turned his mild gaze on her and she felt, as from the first day when ashley came home, thathe knew everything.
“he’s down in the orchard splittin’ rails. i heard his axe when i was puttin’ up the horse. but heain’t got any money any more than we have.”
“if i want to talk to him about it, i can, can’t i?” she snapped, rising to her feet and kicking thefragment of quilting from her ankles.
will did not take offense but continued rubbing his hands before the flame. “better get yourshawl, miss scarlett. it’s raw outside.”
but she went without the shawl, for it was upstairs and her need to see ashley and lay hertroubles before him was too urgent to wait.
how lucky for her if she could find him alone! never once since his return had she had a privateword with him. always the family clustered about him, always melanie was by his side, touchinghis sleeve now and again to reassure herself he was really there. the sight of that happy possessivegesture had aroused in scarlett all the jealous animosity which had slumbered during the monthswhen she had thought ashley probably dead. now she was determined to see him alone. this timeno one was going to prevent her from talking with him alone.
she went through the orchard under the bare boughs and the damp weeds beneath them wet herfeet. she could hear the sound of the axe ringing as ashley split into rails the logs hauled from theswamp. replacing the fences the yankees had so blithely burned was a long hard task. everythingwas a long hard task, she thought wearily, and she was tired of it, tired and mad and sick of it all. ifonly ashley were her husband, instead of melanie’s, how sweet it would be to go to him and layher head upon his shoulder and cry and shove her burdens onto him to work out as best he might.
she rounded a thicket of pomegranate trees which were shaking bare limbs in the cold wind andsaw him leaning on his axe, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. he was wearing theremains of his butternut trousers and one of gerald’s shirts, a shirt which in better times went onlyto court days and barbecues, a ruffled shirt which was far too short for its present owner. he hadhung his coat on a tree limb, for the work was hot, and he stood resting as she came up to him.
at the sight of ashley in rags, with an axe in his hand, her heart went out in a surge of love andof fury at fate. she could not bear to see him in tatters, working, her debonair immaculate ashley.
his hands were not made for work or his body for anything but broadcloth and fine linen. godintended him to sit in a great house, talking with pleasant people, playing the piano and writingthings which sounded beautiful and made no sense whatsoever.
she could endure the sight of her own child in aprons made of sacking and the girls in dingy oldgingham, could bear it that will worked harder than any field hand, but not ashley. he was toofine for all this, too infinitely dear to her. she would rather split logs herself than suffer while hedid it.
“they say abe lincoln got his start splitting rails,” he said as she came up to him. “just think towhat heights i may climb!”
she frowned. he was always saying light things like this about their hardships. they weredeadly serious matters to her and sometimes she was almost irritated at his remarks.
abruptly she told him will’s news, tersely and in short words, feeling a sense of relief as shespoke. surely, he’d have something helpful to offer. he said nothing but, seeing her shiver, he tookhis coat and placed it about her shoulders.
“well,” she said finally, “doesn’t it occur to you that well have to get the money somewhere?”
“yes,” he said, “but where?”
“i’m asking you,” she replied, annoyed. the sense of relief at unburdening herself haddisappeared. even if he couldn’t help, why didn’t he say something comforting, even if it wasonly: “oh, i’m so sorry.”
he smiled.
“in all these months since i’ve been home i’ve only heard of one person, rhett butler, whoactually has money,” he said.
aunt pittypat had written melanie the week before that rhett was back in atlanta with acarriage and two fine horses and pocketfuls of greenbacks. she had intimated, however, that hedidn’t come by them honestly. aunt pitty had a theory, largely shared by atlanta, that rhett had managed to get away with the mythical millions of the confederate treasury.
“don’t let’s talk about him,” said scarlett shortly. “he’s a skunk if ever there was one. what’s tobecome of us all?”
ashley put down the axe and looked away and his eyes seemed to be journeying to some far-offcountry where she could not follow.
“i wonder,” he said. “i wonder not only what will become of us at tara but what will become ofeverybody in the south.”
she felt like snapping out abruptly: “to hell with everybody in the south! what about us?” butshe remained silent because the tired feeling was back on her more strongly than ever. ashleywasn’t being any help at all.
“in the end what will happen will be what has happened whenever a civilization breaks up. thepeople who have brains and courage come through and the ones who haven’t are winnowed out. atleast, it has been interesting, if not comfortable, to witness a g.tterd.mmerung.”
“a what?”
“a dusk of the gods. unfortunately, we southerners did think we were gods.”
“for heaven’s sake, ashley wilkes! don’t stand there and talk nonsense at me when it’s us whoare going to be winnowed out!”
something of her exasperated weariness seemed to penetrate his mind, calling it back from itswanderings, for he raised her hands with tenderness and, turning them palm up, looked at thecalluses.
“these are the most beautiful hands i know,” he said and kissed each palm lightly. “they arebeautiful because they are strong and every callus is a medal, scarlett, every blister an award forbravery and unselfishness. they’ve been roughened for all of us, your father, the girls, melanie,the baby, the negroes and for me. my dear, i know what you are thinking. you’re thinking, ‘herestands an impractical fool talking tommyrot about dead gods when living people are in danger.’
isn’t that true?”
she nodded, wishing he would keep on holding her hands forever, but he dropped them.
“and you came to me, hoping i could help you. well, i can’t.”
his eyes were bitter as he looked toward the axe and the pile of logs.
“my home is gone and all the money that i so took for granted i never realized i had it. and i amfitted for nothing in this world, for the world i belonged in has gone. i can’t help you, scarlett,except by learning with as good grace as possible to be a clumsy farmer. and that won’t keep tarafor you. don’t you think i realize the bitterness of our situation, living here on your charity— oh,yes, scarlett, your charity. i can never repay you what you’ve done for me and for mine out of thekindness of your heart. i realize it more acutely every day. and every day i see more clearly howhelpless i am to cope with what has come on us all— every day my accursed shrinking fromrealities makes it harder for me to face the new realities. do you know what i mean?”
she nodded. she had no very clear idea what he meant but she clung breathlessly on his words, this was the first time he had ever spoken to her of the things he was thinking when he seemed soremote from her. it excited her as if she were on the brink of a discovery.
“it’s a curse—this not wanting to look on naked realities. until the war, life was never more realto me than a shadow show on a curtain. and i preferred it so. i do not like the outlines of things tobe too sharp. i like them gently blurred, a little hazy.”
he stopped and smiled faintly, shivering a little as the cold wind went through his thin shirt.
“in other words, scarlett, i am a coward.”
his talk of shadow shows and hazy outlines conveyed-no meaning to her but his last words werein language she could understand. she knew they were untrue. cowardice was not in him. everyline of his slender body spoke of generations of brave and gallant men and scarlett knew his warrecord by heart.
“why, that’s not so! would a coward have climbed on the cannon at gettysburg and rallied themen? would the general himself have written melanie a letter about a coward? and—”
“that’s not courage,” he said tiredly. “fighting is like champagne. it goes to the heads ofcowards as quickly as of heroes. any fool can be brave on a battle field when it’s be brave or elsebe killed. i’m talking of something else. and my kind of cowardice is infinitely worse than if i hadrun the first time i heard a cannon fired.”
his words came slowly and with difficulty as if it hurt to speak them and he seemed to stand offand look with a sad heart at what he had said. had any other man spoken so, scarlett would havedismissed such protestations contemptuously as mock modesty and a bid for praise. but ashleyseemed to mean them and there was a look in his eyes which eluded her—not fear, not apology,but the bracing to a strain which was inevitable and overwhelming. the wintry wind swept herdamp ankles and she shivered again but her shiver was less from the wind than from the dread hiswords evoked in her heart.
“but, ashley, what are you afraid of?”
“oh, nameless things. things which sound very silly when they are put into words. mostly ofhaving life suddenly become too real, of being brought into personal, too personal, contact withsome of the simple facts of life. it isn’t that i mind splitting logs here in the mud, but i do mindwhat it stands for. i do mind, very much, the loss of the beauty of the old life i loved. scarlett,before the war, life was beautiful. there was a glamour to it, a perfection and a completeness and asymmetry to it like grecian art. maybe it wasn’t so to everyone. i know that now. but to me, livingat twelve oaks, there was a real beauty to living. i belonged in that life. i was a part of it. and nowit is gone and i am out of place in this new life, and i am afraid. now, i know that in the old days itwas a shadow show i watched. i avoided everything which was not shadowy, people and situationswhich were too real, too vital. i resented their intrusion. i tried to avoid you too, scarlett. you weretoo full of living and too real and i was cowardly enough to prefer shadows and dreams.”
“but—but—melly?”
“melanie is the gentlest of dreams and a part of my dreaming. and if the war had not come iwould have lived out my life, happily buried at twelve oaks, contentedly watching life go by and never being a part of it. but when the war came, life as it really is thrust itself against me. the firsttime i went into action—it was at bull run, you remember—i saw my boyhood friends blown tobits and heard dying horses scream and learned the sickeningly horrible feeling of seeing mencrumple up and spit blood when i shot them. but those weren’t the worst things about the war,scarlett. the worst thing about the war was the people i had to live with.
“i had sheltered myself from people an my life, i had carefully selected my few friends. but thewar taught me i had created a world of my own with dream people in it. it taught me what peoplereally are, but it didn’t teach me how to live with them. and i’m afraid i’ll never learn. now, iknow that in order to support my wife and child, i will have to make my way among a world ofpeople with whom i have nothing in common. you, scarlett, are taking life by the horns andtwisting it to your will. but where do i fit in the world any more? i tell you i am afraid.”
while his low resonant voice went on, desolate, with a feeling she could not understand, scarlettclutched at words here and there, trying to make sense of them. but the words swooped from herhands like wild birds. something was driving him, driving him with a cruel goad, but she did notunderstand what it was.
“scarlett, i don’t know just when it was that the bleak realization came over me that my ownprivate shadow show was over. perhaps in the first five minutes at bull run when i saw the firstman i killed drop to the ground. but i knew it was over and i could no longer be a spectator. no, isuddenly found myself on the curtain, an actor, posturing and making futile gestures. my littleinner world was gone, invaded by people whose thoughts were not my thoughts, whose actionswere as alien as a hottentot’s. they’d tramped through my world with slimy feet and there was noplace left where i could take refuge when things became too bad to stand. when i was in prison, ithought: when the war is over, i can go back to the old life and the old dreams and watch theshadow show again. but, scarlett, there’s no going back. and this which is facing all of us now isworse than war and worse than prison—and, to me, worse than death. ... so, you see, scarlett, i’mbeing punished for being afraid.”
“but, ashley,” she began, floundering in a quagmire of bewilderment, “if you’re afraid we’llstarve, why—why— oh, ashley, we’ll manage somehow! i know we will!”
for a moment, his eyes came back to her, wide and crystal gray, and there was admiration inthem. then, suddenly, they were remote again and she knew with a sinking heart that he had notbeen thinking about starving. they were always like two people talking to each other in differentlanguages. but she loved him so much that, when he withdrew as he had now done, it was like thewarm son going down and leaving her in chilly twilight dews. she wanted to catch him by theshoulders and hug him to her, make him realize that she was flesh and blood and not something hehad read or dreamed. if she could only feel that sense of oneness with him for which she hadyearned since that day, so long ago, when he had come home from europe and stood on the stepsof tara and smiled up at her.
“starving’s not pleasant,” he said. “i know for i’ve starved, but i’m not afraid of that. i amafraid of facing life without the slow beauty of our old world that is gone.”
scarlett thought despairingly that melanie would know what he meant. melly and he werealways talking such foolishness, poetry and books and dreams and moonrays and star dust. he was not fearing the things she feared, not the gnawing of an empty stomach, nor the keenness of thewinter wind nor eviction from tara. he was shrinking before some fear she had never known andcould not imagine. for, in god’s name, what was there to fear in this wreck of a world but hungerand cold and the loss of home?
and she had thought that if she listened closely she would know the answer to ashley.
“oh!” she said and the disappointment in her voice was that of a child who opens a beautifullywrapped package to find it empty. at her tone, he smiled ruefully as though apologizing.
“forgive me, scarlett, for talking so. i can’t make you understand because you don’t know themeaning of fear. you have the heart of a lion and an utter lack of imagination and i envy you bothof those qualities. you’ll never mind facing realities and you’ll never want to escape from them asi do.”
“escape!”
it was as if that were the only understandable word he had spoken. ashley, like her, was tired ofthe struggle and he wanted to escape. her breath came fast.
“oh, ashley,” she cried, “you’re wrong. i do want to escape, too. i am so very tired of it all!”
his eyebrows went up in disbelief and she laid a hand, feverish and urgent, on his arm.
“listen to me,” she began swiftly, the words tumbling out one over the other. “i’m tired of it all,i tell you. bone tired and i’m not going to stand it any longer. i’ve struggled for food and formoney and i’ve weeded and hoed and picked cotton and i’ve even plowed until i can’t stand itanother minute. i tell you, ashley, the south is dead! it’s dead! the yankees and the free niggersand the carpetbaggers have got it and there’s nothing left for us. ashley, let’s run away!”
he peered at her sharply, lowering his head to look into her face, now flaming with color.
“yes, let’s run away—leave them all! i’m tired of working for the folks. somebody will takeof them. there’s always somebody who takes of people who can’t take care of them(care) selves.oh,ashley,let’srunaway,youandi.wecould(care) go to mexico—they want officers inthe mexican army and we could be so happy there. i’d work for you, ashley. i’d do anything foryou. you know you don’t love melanie—”
he started to speak, a stricken look on his face, but she stemmed his words with a torrent of herown.
“you told me you loved me better than her that day— oh, you remember that day! and i knowyou haven’t changed! i can tell you haven’t changed! and you’ve just said she was nothing but adream— oh, ashley, let’s go away! i could make you so happy. and anyway,” she addedvenomously, “melanie can’t— dr. fontaine said she couldn’t ever have any more children and icould give you—”
his hands were on her shoulders so tightly that they hurt and she stopped, breathless.
“we were to forget that day at twelve oaks.”
“do you think i could ever forget it? have you forgotten it? can you honestly say you don’tlove me?”
he drew a deep breath and answered quickly.
“no. i don’t love you.”
“that’s a lie.”
“even if it is a lie,” said ashley and his voice was deadly quiet, “it is not something which canbe discussed.”
“you mean—”
“do you think i could go off and leave melanie and the baby, even if i hated them both? breakmelanie’s heart? leave them both to the charity of friends? scarlett, are you mad? isn’t there anysense of loyalty in you? you couldn’t leave your father and the girls. they’re your responsibility,just as melanie and beau are mine, and whether you are tired or not, they are here and you’ve gotto bear them.”
“i could leave them—i’m sick of them—tired of them—”
he leaned toward her and, for a moment, she thought with a catch at her heart that he was goingto take her in his arms. but instead, he patted her arm and spoke as one comforting a child.
“i know you’re sick and tired. that’s why you are talking this way. you’ve carried the load ofthree men. but i’m going to help you—i won’t always be so awkward—”
“there’s only one way you can help me,” she said dully, “and that’s to take me away from hereand give us a new start somewhere, with a chance for happiness. there’s nothing to keep us here.”
“nothing,” he said quietly, “nothing—except honor.”
she looked at him with baffled longing and saw, as if for the first time, how the crescents of hislashes were the thick rich gold of ripe wheat, how proudly his head sat upon his bared neck andhow the look of race and dignity persisted in his slim erect body, even through its grotesque rags.
her eyes met his, hers naked with pleading, his remote as mountain lakes under gray skies.
she saw in them defeat of her wild dream, her mad desires.
heartbreak and weariness sweeping over her, she dropped her head in her hands and cried. hehad never seen her cry. he had never thought that women of her strong mettle had tears, and aflood of tenderness and remorse swept him. he came to her swiftly and in a moment had her in hisarms, cradling her comfortingly, pressing her black head to his heart, whispering: “dear! my bravedear—don’t! you mustn’t cry!”
at his touch, he felt her change within his grip and there was madness and magic in the slimbody he held and a hot soft glow in the green eyes which looked up at him. of a sudden, it was nolonger bleak winter. for ashley, spring was back again, that half-forgotten balmy spring of greenrustlings and murmurings, a spring of ease and indolence, careless days when the desires of youthwere warm in his body. the bitter years since then fell away and he saw that the lips turned up tohis were red and trembling and he kissed her.
there was a curious low roaring sound in her ears as of sea shells held against them and throughthe sound she dimly heard the swift thudding of her heart. her body seemed to melt into his and,for a timeless time, they stood, fused together as his lips took hers hungrily as if he could never have enough.
when he suddenly released her she felt that she could not stand alone and gripped the fence forsupport. she raised eyes blazing with love and triumph to him.
“you do love me! you do love me! say it—say it!”
his hands still rested on her shoulders and she felt them tremble and loved their trembling. sheleaned toward him ardently but he held her away from him, looking at her with eyes from whichall remoteness had fled, eyes tormented with struggle and despair.
“don’t!” he said. “don’t! if you do, i shall take you now, here.”
she smiled a bright hot smile which was forgetful of time or place or anything but the memoryof his mouth on hers.
suddenly he shook her, shook her until her black hair tumbled down about her shoulders, shookher as if in a mad rage at her—and at himself.
“we won’t do this!” he said. “i tell you we won’t do it!”
it seemed as if her neck would snap if he shook her again. she was blinded by her hair andstunned by his action. she wrenched herself away and stared at him. there were small beads ofmoisture on his forehead and his fists were curled into claws as if in pain. he looked at her directly,his gray eyes piercing.
“it’s all my fault—none of yours and it will never happen again, because i am going to takemelanie and the baby and go.”
“go?” she cried in anguish. “oh, no!”
“yes, by god! do you think i’ll stay here after this? when this might happen again—”
“but, ashley, you can’t go. why should you go? you love me—”
“you want me to say it? all right, i’ll say it. i love you.”
he leaned over her with a sudden savagery which made her shrink back against the fence.
“i love you, your courage and your stubbornness and your fire and your utter ruthlessness. howmuch do i love you? so much that a moment ago i would have outraged the hospitality of thehouse which has sheltered me and my family, forgotten the best wife any man ever had—enoughto take you here in the mud like a—”
she struggled with a chaos of thoughts and there was a cold pain in her heart as if an icicle hadpierced it. she said haltingly: “if you felt like that—and didn’t take me—then you don’t love me.”
“i can never make you understand.”
they fell silent and looked at each other. suddenly scarlett shivered and saw, as if coming backfrom a long journey, that it was winter and the fields were bare and harsh with stubble and she wasvery cold. she saw too that the old aloof face of ashley, the one she knew so well, had come backand it was wintry too, and harsh with hurt and remorse.
she would have turned and left him then, seeking the shelter of the house to hide herself, but she was too tired to move. even speech was a labor and a weariness.
there is nothing left,” she said at last. “nothing left for me. nothing to love. nothing to fightfor. you are gone and tara is going.”
he looked at her for a long space and then, leaning, scooped up a small wad of red clay from theground.
“yes, there is something left,” he said, and the ghost of his old smile came back, the smile whichmocked himself as well as her. “something you love better than me, though you may not know it.
you’ve still got tara.”
he took her limp hand and pressed the damp clay into it and closed her fingers about it. therewas no fever in his hands now, nor in hers. she looked at the red soil for a moment and it meantnothing to her. she looked at him and realized dimly that there was an integrity of spirit in himwhich was not to be torn apart by her passionate hands, nor by any hands.
if it killed him, he would never leave melanie. if he burned for scarlett until the end of his days,he would never take her and he would fight to keep her at a distance. she would never again getthrough that armor. the words, hospitality and loyalty and honor, meant more to him than she did.
the clay was cold in her hand and she looked at it again.
“yes,” she said, i’ve still got this.”
at first, the words meant nothing and the clay was only red clay. but unbidden came the thoughtof the sea of red dirt which surrounded tara and how very dear it was and how hard she had foughtto keep it—how hard she was going to have to fight if she wished to keep it hereafter. she lookedat him again and wondered where the hot flood of feeling had gone. she could think but could notfeel, not about him nor tara either, for she was drained of all emotion.
“you need not go,” she said clearly. “i won’t have you all starve, simply because i’ve thrownmyself at your head. it will never happen again.”
she turned away and started back toward the house across the rough fields, twisting her hair intoa knot upon her neck. ashley watched her go and saw her square her small thin shoulders as shewent. and that gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken.
1866年一月一个寒冷的下午，思嘉·奥哈拉坐在房里给皮蒂姑妈写信，详累解释为什么她自己、媚兰或艾希礼都无法回到亚特兰大去同她一起祝这已是第十次写这样的信了，她很不耐烦，因为知道皮蒂姑妈一读完开头几句就会把信放下，然后再一次来信诉苦：“可是我真害怕独自一个人生活呀！"她的手已经冻僵了，便停下来使劲搓搓，同时将双脚深深踹入裹着脚的旧棉絮里，她的拖鞋后跟实际上早已磨掉，只好用碎毡皮包起来。毡皮尽管可以使脚不必直接踩地，但已起不了多少保暖作用。那天早晨，威尔把马牵到琼斯博罗钉蹄铁去了。思嘉暗想这世道怎么变得这么怪了，马还有鞋穿，而人却像院子里的狗还光着脚呢。
她继续拿起笔写信，但这时听到威尔正从后门进来，便又把笔放下。她听见他那条木腿在房外面的穿堂里梆梆地响，后来没有声息了。等了一会儿，想必他会进来，但没有一点动静，于是她只好喊他。他进来了，两只耳朵冻得通红，淡红色的头发一片蓬乱，站在那里俯视着她，嘴角浮现着一丝幽幽的笑意。
“思嘉小姐，你究竟攒了多少钱呀？"他问。
“难道你是贪图我的钱要是我结婚吗？威尔？"她有点粗鲁地反问他。
“不，小姐，我只是想现在想知道。”
她审讯似地注视着他。威尔显得不很认真，不过他从来就是这个样子。反正她觉得出了什么事。
“我手头只有十个金元，"她说。"这是那个北方佬留下的最后一点钱了。”“唔，小姐，这会不够的。”
“不够干什么？”
“不够交纳税金，"他答道，一面蹒跚地走到壁炉前面，弯下腰伸手烤火。
“税金？"她简单地重复了一遍，"我的上帝，威尔！我们已经交过税了呀！”“是的，小姐。但他们说你交得不够。这是今天我在琼斯博罗那边听到的。"“可是，威尔，我弄不明白。你究竟是什么意思？"“思嘉小姐，我的确很怕再给你添烦恼，因为你已经够苦的了，可是我又不能不告诉你。他们说你还得付更大一笔的税金。他们把塔拉的税额增加得吓人地高----我敢说超过了县里任何一宗不动产。"“既然我们已经付过一次了，他们就不能再让我们交更多的税金。"“思嘉小姐，你从来不大到琼斯博罗去，我也高兴你这样。
那是这些日子一位夫人不该去的地方。可是假如你去得多了，你就会知道，那里近来有不少的流氓，共和党和提包党人在当政。他们会叫你气炸的。而且，还常常发生黑鬼把白人从人行道上推下去的事，以及----"“可这同我们的税金有什么关系呢？"“我正要说呢，思嘉小姐。由于某种原因，那些无赖已经对塔拉的税金表示很不满意，仿佛那是个年产上千包棉花的地方。当我听到这消息，便到那些酒吧间附近去打听，收集人们的闲言碎语。然后我才发现，有人希望在你付不出这些额外税金时，州府将公开拍卖，于是他们可以用低价买下塔拉。谁都明白你交不出这么高的税款。现在我还不知道究竟是谁想买这块地方。我调查不出来。不过我想，希尔顿这胆怯的家伙，那个娶了凯瑟琳小姐的人，他肯定会知道的，因为我正要向他探听，他便尴尬地笑了。"威尔在沙发上坐下，抚摩着他的半截腿。这条残腿每逢天气寒冷就要疼痛，而好半截木头又镶嵌得不很好，弄得他很不舒服。思嘉呆呆地望着他。他谈到塔拉这个要命的消息时，态度还是那么随便。由州府公开拍卖吗？那么大家往啊儿去呢？而且搭拉会属于另外一个人！不，这根本是不可思议的！
她早已专心致志于塔拉的生产，因此不大关心外界发生的事。既然有威尔和艾希礼去料理她在琼斯博罗和费耶特维尔可能要办的一切事务，她就没必要离开农常在战争爆发前她对于父亲有关战争的谈论听而不闻，她如今才对于威尔和艾希礼在晚餐后有关开始重建的闲谈也不怎么在意了。
当然喽，她听说那些倚仗共和党大谋私利的南方败类，以及那些提包党人。后者是南方一宣告投降就像蝗虫般拥来的北方佬，他们把自己的全部财产装在一个提包里带到这里。她还同那个所谓的"自由人局"打过几次很不愉快交道。她也听说过有些被解放的黑人已变得相当傲慢无礼了。可最后一点她却难以相信，因为她有生以来还从没见过一个傲慢的黑人呢。
但是，有许多事情是威尔和艾希礼合谋向她隐瞒了。随着战争灾害而来的是重建故园时期的更大灾害，只不过他们两人早商量好了，在家里谈论当前形势时不提外面那些更可怕的具体情况。而当思嘉不加回避高兴听听时，也大多是一只耳朵进另一只耳朵出。
她听艾希礼说过，南部正在被当作一个被征服的省份对待，而征服者所采取的主要政策便是给予报复。不过，这样一种报道对于思嘉来说丝毫没有意义，因政治是男人们的事。
她听威尔说过，似乎北部就是不准备让南部重新建立起来。好吧，思嘉心想，男人们总爱为一些蠢事操心。而她，北方佬过去没有鞭打过她，这一次看来也不会。如今最要紧的是拚命工作，再用不着为北方佬政府忧虑。反正，战争已经过去了。
思嘉并不明白竞争的一切规律都已经改变，诚实的劳动不会再赚到公正的报酬了。佐治亚州如今几乎处于军法管制之下。北方佬士兵镇守着整个地区，"自由人局"完全控制这里的一切，而他们正在确立适合于他们自己的法规。
这个由联邦政府组织起来的局，其职责是管理那些懒惰而激动的前黑奴，现在正吸引他们成千上万地从种植园转移到乡村和城城市中来。局里供养着他们，任其游手好闲，并且腐蚀毒化他们的思想，激发他们反对以前的主人。杰拉尔德家从前的监工乔纳斯·威尔克森负责设在塔拉的分局，他的助手是凯瑟琳·卡尔弗特的丈夫希尔顿。他们两人大肆散布谣言，说南方人和民主党人正等待时机要让黑人回到种植园重新沦为奴隶，而黑人为逃避这一厄运的唯一希望在于这个局以及共和党给他们提供的种种保护。
威尔克森和希尔顿进一步告诉黑人们，他们在哪个方面都不比白人弱，并且很快就会允许白人与黑人通婚了，而他们以前的主人们财产也将很快被瓜分完，每个黑人都将分到四十英亩地和一头骡子归自己所有。他们以所谓白人逞凶犯罪的故事来煽动黑人，因此在一个一贯以主奴关系亲密闻名的地区，仇恨和猜疑又开始抬头了。
“自由人局"由士兵撑腰，同时军方发布了一些自由矛盾的管制被征服者行为的命令。人们动辄被捕，甚至对该局官员表示冷淡也会构成罪名。军方颁发的命令有关于学校的，关于卫生的，关于谁的衣服上所钉的钮扣是什么种类，关于日用品销售以及包括其他几乎一切事物的。威尔克森和希尔顿有权干涉思嘉所经营的任何买卖，并且有权对她所售出和交换的一切物品规定价格。
幸好思嘉很少同这两个人发生什么联系，因为威尔早已说服她让他来管理买卖上的事，而她自己只管理农常威尔用他那种温和的办法克服了好几种这一类的困难。并对她什么也没有说。同时威尔能够同提包党和北方佬周旋下去----如果他必须这样做的话。不过现在出现了一个大问题，大到他自己无法处理了。这就是那笔额外规定的税金和丧失塔拉农场的危险，这些事不能不让思嘉知道----而且得马上知道。
她瞪着两眼望着他。
“啊，该死的北方佬！"她叫道：“他们打击了我们，让我们已成了乞丐，难道这还不够吗，要放任流氓来凌辱我们吗？"战争已经结束，和平已宣布到来，可是北方佬仍然有权掠夺她，仍然可以叫她挨饿，仍然能把她赶出家门。而她竟然那么傻，曾经以为熬过这段艰难的日子，只要她能够坚持到春天，就会万事大吉的。可威尔带来的这个令人可怕和绝望的消息却在整整一年累死累活和苦苦盼望之后降临，这已经是将她彻底压垮的最后一份负担了。
“唔，威尔，我还满以为战争结束后我们的困难也就会完了呢！"“不会的，“威尔扬起他那张瘦削的乡巴佬面孔，镇定地注视着她。"我们的困难还刚刚开头呢。"“他们要我们付多少额外税金呢？"“三百美元。"一瞬间她被吓得说不出话来了。三百美元呀！这听起来就像三百万美元一样。
“怎么，"她慌乱地嚷嚷着，"怎么----怎么，那我们无论如何得筹集三百美元了。"”是的，又是月亮又是虹，或者两个都要，很不容易埃"“啊，不过威尔！他们是不能出卖塔拉的。你看----"他那温和暗淡的眼睛流露出深深的仇恨和痛苦，这远远超过了她原先的估计。
“唔，他们不能？我看，他们不但能而且会很乐意出卖的！
思嘉小姐，国家已经完全沦为地狱了，如果你原谅我这样说的话，那些提包党和流氓都有投票权，而我们民主党人大多数没有。这个州的任何民主党人，只要他一八六五年在税收册上有两千美元以上的税额，就不能投票选举。这个规定把你父亲和塔尔顿先生以及麦克雷家和方丹家的少爷们都排除在外了。还有凡在战时担任过联盟军上校以上军官的人都不能投票。而且，思嘉小姐，我打赌这个州有比南部联盟任何一个别的州更多的上校。同时，凡是在联盟政府下面担任过公职的人也不能投票，这样一来，从公证人到法官都被排除了，而林区是到处有这种人的。事实上，北方佬制造那个大赦誓言的办法就是让每个在战前稍有身分的人都一律不能投票。聪明能干的人不能，上流社会的人不能，有钱的人也不能。
“哼，我就能投票只要我履行他们那该死的宣誓。一八六五年我一个钱也没有，更不是上校或别的什么体面人物。可是我就不去宣誓。再怎么倒霉也不去！如果北方佬行为很正当，我也许早已经立誓忠于他们了。可如今已经不行。我可以被迫回到联邦，但决不会被改造成一个联邦分子。我宁愿永远丧失选举权，也决不去宣那个誓。然而像希尔顿那样的流氓，他却有选举权；像乔纳斯·威尔克森，像斯莱特里那样的下流白人，以及像麦金托什家那样的废物，他们却有选举权。且都在管事。而且，如果他们要欺负你，叫你付上十倍的额外税款，也是办得到的。就像一个黑人杀了白人而不会判刑。或者----"他没有说下去，觉得难以开口，因为他们两人都清楚记得，在洛夫乔伊附近那个农场里一个孤单的白人妇女曾遭遇到什么……"那些黑人能够做出任何不利于我们的事，而'自由人局'和士兵们都用枪杆子给他们撑腰，可我们不能参加选举，对此没有丝毫办法。"“选举，”思嘉嚷道：“选举！投票选举对于眼前的事到底有什么相干呀，威尔？我们谈的是税金……威尔，谁都知道塔拉是一个多么好的农常如果逼不得已，我们可以用它抵押到一笔钱，够付税金就行了。"“思嘉小姐，你为人一点也不傻，可有时说起话来却有点傻乎乎的。请问，谁还有钱来押贷这个农场呢？除了那些想要从你手里弄到塔拉的提包党，还会有谁呀？你看，每个人都有了土地。每个人的土地都是贫瘠的。你的土地怎么能押出去。"“我还有从那个北方佬身上取下的钻石耳坠呢，我们可以把它卖掉。"“思嘉小姐，这附近谁还有钱买耳坠呢！人们连买腌肉的钱也没有，别说什么首饰了。如果你有了十个金元，那么我敢打赌，这已经超过大多数人的存款了。"这时他们又沉默下来，思嘉感到她的头好像在撞一堵坚固的石壁，过去一年已有那么多石壁来让她撞埃"我们怎么办呢，思嘉小姐？”“我不知道，"他茫然地说，并且觉得没必要管它了。因为这实在是意外碰到的一堵石墙，而她突然感到特别乏，连骨头都酸疼了。她为什么要那样拼命工作，拼命挣扎，并把自己折磨完呢？每一番挣扎的结果都好像是失败在等待着嘲弄她。
“我不知怎么办好，"她说。"但是千万别让爸知道了。那会使他烦恼的。”“我不会。““你告诉过别人吗？"“没有，我一听说就来找你了。"是的，她想，无论是谁听到了什么坏消息都会立即来找她的，而她对此感到烦透了。
“威尔克斯先生在哪里？说不定他能出些主意。"威尔用温和的眼光看着她，这使她感到，就像从艾希礼回家的头一天那样，他是什么都明白的。
“他在下面果园里劈栅栏呢。我刚才拴马时听见他的斧子声。不过他赚到的钱决不会比我们所有的更多一些。"“要是我想同他谈谈这件事，我可以谈，难道不行吗？"她突然高声说，同时踢开那块裹着双脚的旧棉絮，站了起来。
威尔不表示反对，但继续在炉火前搓着双手。"最好披上你的围巾，思嘉小姐。外面怪冷的。"可是她没戴围巾便出去了，因为围巾在楼上，而她现在需要见艾希礼，把她遇到的麻烦摆在他面前。这可是非常紧急的事，不容再等了。
要是能发现他独自一人在那里，那该多幸运啊！自从他回来以后，她一直没有私下单独同他谈过半句话。他常同家人在一起，经常有媚兰在他身边，后者总不时地摸摸他的袖子，好像只有这样才能确信他真的在那里。这副亲昵的样子曾惹起思嘉的满腔炉火，虽然有几个月她心想艾希礼兴许已经亡故，因此这种情感也逐渐平息。如今她决定独自去见他。这一次不会有什么人妨碍她同他单独谈话了。
她从光秃秃的树枝下穿过果园，她的双脚全被潮湿的野草打湿了。她听见从沼泽地传来艾希礼劈栅栏时斧子震动的响音。要把北方佬恣意烧光的那些篱笆重新修复，是一桩很艰苦而费时的劳动。一切工作都是艰苦费时的，她很不耐烦地这样想，并为此感到既厌倦又恼火又烦闷透了。假如艾希礼就是她的丈夫而不是媚兰的，那么她去找他时，可以把自己的头靠在他的肩膀上嚷着搡着，将身上的负担都推给他，叫他尽最大的努力加以解决，那该有多好埃她绕过一丛在寒风中摇摆着光秃秃的树枝的石榴树，便看见他倚着斧把，用手背擦拭着额头。他身上穿的是一条粗布裤子和一件杰拉尔德的衬衫，这件衬衫以前完好的时候只有开庭和参加野宴时才穿的，如今已经邹巴巴的，穿在新主人身上显然是太短了。他把上衣挂在树枝上，因为这种劳动是要流大汗的，她走过来时，他正站着休息。
眼见艾希礼身披褴褛，手持利斧，她心中顿时涌起一股怜爱和怨天之情，激动得难以自禁了。她不忍心看见那温文尔雅、心地纯洁而善良的艾希礼竟是一副破衣烂衫，辛苦劳累的模样。他的手天生不是来劳动的，他的身体天生也只能穿戴绫罗。上帝是叫他坐在深院大宅之中，同宾客们高谈阔论，或者弹琴写诗，而这些音韵优雅的作品又毋需有什么涵义。
她能容忍让自己的孩子用麻布袋作围裙，姑娘们穿着肮脏的旧布衣裳，让威尔比大田里苦力工作得更辛苦，可是决不忍心让艾希礼受这种委屈。他太文雅了，对于她来说是太宝贵了。决不能让他过这样的生活，她宁愿自己去劈木头，免得眼见他干这种活时自己心里难受。
“人们说亚伯·林肯就是劈栅栏出身的呢，"当她走上前来时艾希礼这样说。“想想看，我可能爬到多么高的地位！"她皱起眉头，他总是在困难面前谈一些很轻松的事。但在她看来都是很严重的问题，所以她几乎被他的话激怒了。
她直截了当地把威尔带来的消息告诉他，话是那和简洁，一说出来觉得便如释重负了。当然，他会提供一些有益的意见的。可是他什么也没说，只不过发现她正在哆嗦时连忙把上衣取下来披在她的肩上。
“怎么，"她终于说，"难道你不觉得我们必须从哪儿弄到那笔钱吗？"“当然，“他说，"可是哪儿有弄呢？"“我在问你呀，"她有点恼火的答道。那种卸了担子的感觉早已消失。即使他帮不上忙，可为什么连句宽慰的话也没有，哪怕说一声“唔，我很抱歉"也可以埃他微微一笑。
“我回来好几个月了，只听说过一个人是真正有钱的。那就是瑞德·巴特勒，“他说。
原来上星期皮蒂帕特姑妈已给媚兰寄来了信，说瑞德带了一辆马车和两匹骏马以及满袋满袋的美钞回到了亚特兰大。不过她表示了这样的意思，即他的这些东西都是来路不正的。皮蒂姑妈有这种看法，这在亚特兰大颇为流行，那就是瑞德曾经设法夹带联盟州金库里一笔数百万的神秘款子跑掉了。
“让我们别谈他了。"思嘉打断他的话头。"只要世界上有下流坯，他就算是一个。可是，我们大家会怎么样呢？"艾希礼放下斧子，朝前望去，他的眼光仿佛伸向很远很远她无法跟上的地方。
“我担心的不仅是在塔拉的我们，而且是整个南部的每一个人，大家都会怎么样呢？”他这样说。
她觉得想要突然大喊：“让南部的每个人见鬼去吧！问题是我们怎么办？"但是她忍着没有说，因为那种厌倦的感觉又回到她心头，而且比以前更强烈了。原来艾希礼竟一点忙也帮不上。
“到头来究竟会怎么样，只要看看历史上每当一种文明遭到毁灭时所发生的情况就知道了。那些有头脑有勇气的人要以通过这种动，而那些没有头脑和勇气的就将被淘汰掉。我们能亲眼看到这样一次gotterdammerung这尽管令人不怎么舒服，但毕竟还是很有趣的。"“看到一次什么？"“一次诸神的末日。不幸的是我们南方人并不承认自己是神。"“看在苍天面上，艾希礼·威尔克斯！请你不要站在这里给我胡扯淡了，这次是我们要被淘汰呢！"她这种夸张了的疲惫似乎稍渗入他的心灵，将他从遥远的遐想中唤了回来，因而他亲切地捧起她的双手，把她的手翻转过来，手心朝上，审视手上的老茧。
“这是我一生中见过的最美的两只手，"他一面说，一面轻轻亲吻两只手心。“这双手很美，因为这双手很坚强，每个老茧都象一枚纪念章，思嘉，每个血泡都是对你勇敢无私的奖赏。这双手是为了我们大家，为了你父亲，那些女孩子，媚兰，那婴儿，那些黑人，以及我，而磨出老茧来的。亲爱的，我知道你现在在想什么。你是在想，'这里站着一个不切实际的傻瓜在空谈关于古代诸神的废话，而活着的人却面临危机，'难道不是这样？"她点点头，但愿他继续握着她的双手永远不松开，可是他却把她的双手放开了。
“你现在跑到我这里来，是希望我能帮助你。可是我没这能耐。"他用困苦的眼光望着那把斧子和那堆木头。
“我的家和全部财产都早已经完了，我过去从来不清楚那些财产是归我所有的。我在这个世界上已毫无用处，因为我所属于的那个世界已经消失。我无法帮助你，思嘉，只能以尽可能老老实实的态度学着当个农夫。可这样做并不能帮你保全塔拉。你以为我们在这里依靠你的周济过活，还不明白这处境的悲惨吗----唔，是的，全靠你的周济，我永远也报答不了你为我