she was still clutching the ball of red clay when she went up the front steps. she hadcarefully avoided the back entrance, for mammy’s sharp eyes would certainly have seen thatsomething was greatly amiss. scarlett did not want to see mammy or anyone else. she did not feelthat she could endure seeing anyone or talking to anyone again. she had no feeling of shame ordisappointment or bitterness now, only a weakness of the knees and a great emptiness of heart. shesqueezed the clay so tightly it ran out from her clenched fist and she said over and over, parrot-like: “i’ve still got this. yes, i’ve still got this.”
there was nothing else she did have, nothing but this red land, this land she had been willing tothrow away like a torn handkerchief only a few minutes before, now, it was dear to her again and she wondered dully what madness had possessed her to hold it so lightly. had ashley yielded, shecould have gone away with him and left family and friends without a backward look but, even inher emptiness, she knew it would have torn her heart to leave these dear red hills and long washedgullies and gaunt black pines. her thoughts would have turned back to them hungrily until the dayshe died. not even ashley could have filled the empty spaces in her heart where tara. had beenuprooted. how wise ashley was and how well he knew her! he had only to press the damp earthinto her hand to bring her to her senses.
she was in the hall preparing to close the door when she heard the sound of horse’s hooves andturned to look down the driveway. to have visitors at this of all times was too much. she’d hurryto her room and plead a headache.
but when the carriage came nearer, her flight was checked by her amazement. it was a newcarriage, shiny with varnish, and “the harness was new too, with bits of polished brass here andthere. strangers, certainly. no one she knew had the money for such a grand new turn-out as this.
she stood in the doorway watching, the cold draft blowing her skirts about her damp ankles.
then the carriage stopped in front of the house and jonas wilkerson alighted. scarlett was sosurprised at the sight of their former overseer driving so fine a rig and in so splendid a greatcoatshe could not for a moment believe her eyes. will had told her he looked quite prosperous since hegot his new job with the freedmen’s bureau. made a lot of money, will said, swindling the niggersor the government, one or tuther, or confiscating folks’ cotton and swearing it was confederategovernment cotton. certainly he never came by all that money honestly in these hard times.
and here he was now, stepping out of an elegant carriage and handing down a woman dressedwithin an inch of her life. scarlett saw in a glance that the dress was bright in color to the point ofvulgarity but nevertheless her eyes went over the outfit hungrily. it had been so long since she hadeven seen stylish new clothes. well! so hoops aren’t so wide this year, she thought, scanning thered plaid gown. and, as she took in the black velvet paletot, how short jackets are! and what acunning hat! bonnets must be out of style, for this hat was only an absurd flat red velvet affair,perched on the top of the woman’s head like a stiffened pancake. the ribbons did not tie under thechin as bonnet ribbons tied but in the back under the massive bunch of curls which fell from therear of the hat, curls which scarlett could not help noticing did not match the woman’s hair ineither color or texture.
as the woman stepped to the ground and looked toward the house, scarlett saw there wassomething familiar about the rabbity face, caked with white powder.
“why, it’s emmie slattery!” she cried, so surprised she spoke the words aloud.
“yes’m, it’s me,” said emmie, tossing her head with an ingratiating smile and starting towardthe steps.
emmie slattery! the dirty tow-headed slut whose illegitimate baby ellen had baptized, emmiewho had given typhoid to ellen and killed her. this overdressed, common, nasty piece of poorwhite trash was coming up the steps of tara, bridling and grinning as if she belonged here. scarlettthought of ellen and, in a rush, feeling came back into the emptiness of her mind, a murderousrage so strong it shook her like the ague.
“get off those steps, you trashy wench!” she cried. “get off this land! get out!”
emmie’s jaw sagged suddenly and she glanced at jonas who came up with lowering brows. hemade an effort at dignity, despite his anger.
“you must not speak that way to my wife,” he said.
“wife?” said scarlett and burst into a laugh that was cutting with contempt. “high time youmade her your wife. who baptized your other brats after you killed my mother?”
emmie said “oh!” and retreated hastily down the steps but jonas stopped her flight toward thecarriage with a rough grip on her arm.
“we came out here to pay a call—a friendly call,” he snarled. “and talk a little business with oldfriends—”
“friends?” scarlett’s voice was like a whiplash. “when were we ever friends with the like ofyou? the slatterys lived on our charity and paid it back by killing mother—and you—you— padischarged you about emmie’s brat and you know it. friends? get off this place before i call mr.
benteen and mr. wilkes.”
under the words, emmie broke her husband’s hold and fled for the carriage, scrambling in witha flash of patent-leather boots with bright-red tops and red tassels.
now jonas shook with a fury equal to scarlett’s and his sallow face was as red as an angryturkey gobbler’s.
“still high and mighty, aren’t you? well, i know all about you. i know you haven’t got shoes foryour feet. i know your father’s turned idiot—”
“get off this place!”
“oh, you won’t sing that way very long. i know you’re broke. i know you can’t even pay yourtaxes. i came out here to offer to buy this place from you—to make you a right good offer. emmiehad a hankering to live here. but, by god, i won’t give you a cent now! you highflying, bog-trotting irish will find out who’s running things around here when you get sold out for taxes. andi’ll buy this place, lock, stock and barrel—furniture and all—and i’ll live in it.”
so it was jonas wilkerson who wanted tara—jonas and emmie, who in some twisted waythought to even past slights by living in the home where they had been slighted. all her nerveshummed with hate, as they had hummed that day when she shoved the pistol barrel into theyankee’s bearded face and fired. she wished she had that pistol now.
“i’ll tear this house down, stone by stone, and burn it and sow every acre with salt before i seeeither of you put foot over this threshold,” she shouted. “get out, i tell you! get out!”
jonas glared at her, started to say more and then walked toward the carriage. he climbed inbeside his whimpering wife and turned the horse. as they drove off, scarlett had the impulse tospit at them. she did spit. she knew it was a common, childish gesture but it made her feel better.
she wished she had done it while they could see her.
those damned nigger lovers daring to come here and taunt her about her poverty! that houndnever intended offering her a price for tara. he just used that as an excuse to come and flaunt himself and emmie in her face. the dirty scalawags, the lousy trashy poor whites, boasting theywould live at tara!
then, sudden terror struck her and her rage melted. god’s nightgown! they will come and livehere! there was nothing she could do to keep them from buying tara, nothing to keep them fromlevying on every mirror and table and bed, on ellen’s shining mahogany and rosewood, and everybit of it precious to her, scarred though it was by the yankee raiders. and the robillard silver too. iwon’t let them do it, thought scarlett vehemently. no, not if i’ve got to burn the place down!
emmie slattery will never set her foot on a single bit of flooring mother ever walked on!
she closed the door and leaned against it and she was very frightened. more frightened eventhan she had been that day when sherman’s army was in the house. that day the worst she couldfear was that tara would be burned over her head. but this was worse—these low commoncreatures living in this house, bragging to their low common friends how they had turned the proudo’haras out. perhaps they’d even bring negroes here to dine and sleep. will had told her jonasmade a great to-do about being equal with the negroes, ate with them, visited in their houses, rodethem around with him in his carriage, put his arms around their shoulders.
when she thought of the possibility of this final insult to tara, her heart pounded so hard shecould scarcely breathe. she was trying to get her mind on her problem, trying to figure some wayout, but each time she collected her thoughts, fresh gusts of rage and fear shook her. there must besome way out, there must be someone somewhere who had money she could borrow. moneycouldn’t just dry up and blow away. somebody had to have money. then the laughing words ofashley came back to her:
“only one person, rhett butler … who has money.”
rhett butler. she walked quickly into the parlor and shut the door behind her. the dim gloom ofdrawn blinds and winter twilight closed about her. no one would think of hunting for her here andshe wanted time to think, undisturbed. the idea which had just occurred to her was so simple shewondered why she had not thought of it before.
“i’ll get the money from rhett. i’ll sell him the diamond earbobs. or i’ll borrow the money fromhim and let him keep the earbobs till i can pay him back.”
for a moment, relief was so great she felt weak. she would pay the taxes and laugh in jonaswilkerson’s face. but close on this happy thought came relentless knowledge.
“it’s not only for this year that i’ll need tax money. there’s next year and all the years of my life.
if i pay up this time, they’ll raise the taxes higher next time till they drive me out. if i make a goodcotton crop, they’ll tax it till i’ll get nothing for it or maybe confiscate it outright and say it’sconfederate cotton. the yankees and the scoundrels teamed up with them have got me where theywant me. all my life, as long as i live, i’ll be afraid they’ll get me somehow. all my life i’ll bescared and scrambling for money and working myself to death, only to see my work go for nothingand my cotton stolen. ... just borrowing three hundred dollars for the taxes will be only a stopgap.
what i want is to get out of this fix, for good—so i can go to sleep at night without worrying overwhat’s going to happen to me tomorrow, and next month, and next year.”
her mind ticked on steadily. coldly and logically an idea grew in her brain. she thought of rhett, a flash of white teeth against swarthy skin, sardonic black eyes caressing her. she recalledthe hot night in atlanta, close to the end of the siege, when he sat on aunt pitty’s porch half hiddenin the summer darkness, and she felt again the heat of his hand upon her arm as he said: “i wantyou more than i have ever wanted any woman—and i’ve waited longer for you than i’ve everwaited for any woman.”
“i’ll marry him,” she thought coolly. “and then i’ll never have to bother about money again.”
oh, blessed thought, sweeter than hope of heaven, never to worry about money again, to knowthat tara was safe, that the family was fed and clothed, that she would never again have to bruiseherself against stone walls!
she felt very old. the afternoon’s events had drained her of all feeling, first the startling newsabout the taxes, then ashley and, last, her murderous rage at jonas wilkerson. now there was noemotion left in her. if all her capacity to feel had not been utterly exhausted, something in herwould have protested against the plan taking form in her mind, for she hated rhett as she hated noother person in all the world. but she could not feel. she could only think and her thoughts werevery practical.
“i said some terrible things to him that night when he deserted us on the road, but i can makehim forget them,” she thought contemptuously, still sure of her power to charm. “butter won’t meltin my mouth when i’m around him. i’ll make him think i always loved him and was just upset andfrightened that night. oh, men are so conceited they’ll believe anything that flatters them. ... i mustnever let him dream what straits we’re in, not till i’ve got him. oh, he mustn’t know! if he evensuspected how poor we are, he’d know it was his money i wanted and not himself. after all, there’sno way he could know, for even aunt pitty doesn’t know the worst. and after i’ve married him,he’ll have to help us. he can’t let his wife’s people starve.” his wife. mrs. rhett butler. somethingof repulsion, buried deep beneath her cold thinking, stirred faintly and then was stilled. sheremembered the embarrassing and disgusting events of her brief honeymoon with charles, hisfumbling hands, his awkwardness, his incomprehensible emotions—and wade hampton.
“i won’t think about it now. i’ll bother about it after i’ve married him. ...”
after she had married him. memory rang a bell. a chill went down her spine. she rememberedagain that night on aunt pitty’s porch, remembered how she asked him if he was proposing to her,remembered how hatefully he had laughed and said: “my dear, i’m not a marrying man.”
suppose he was still not a marrying man. suppose despite all her charms and wiles, he refusedto marry her. suppose—oh, terrible thought!—suppose he had completely forgotten about her andwas chasing after some other woman.
“i want you more than i have ever wanted any woman. ...”
scarlett’s nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. “if he’s forgotten me, i’ll make himremember me. i’ll make him want me again.”
and, if he would not marry her but still wanted her, there was a way to get the money. after all,he had once asked her to be his mistress.
in the dim grayness of the parlor she fought a quick decisive battle with the three most binding ties of her soul—the memory of ellen, the teachings of her religion and her love for ashley. sheknew that what she had in her mind must be hideous to her mother even in that warm far-offheaven where she surely was. she knew that fornication was a mortal sin. and she knew that,loving ashley as she did, her plan was doubly prostitution.
but all these things went down before the merciless coldness of her mind and the goad ofdesperation. ellen was dead and perhaps death gave an understanding of all things. religionforbade fornication on pain of hell fire but if the church thought she was going to leave one stoneunturned in saving tara and saving the family from starving—well, let the church bother aboutthat. she wouldn’t. at least, not now. and ashley—ashley didn’t want her. yes, he did want her.
the memory of his warm mouth on hers told her that. but he would never take her away with him.
strange that going away with ashley did not seem like a sin, but with rhett—in the dull twilight of the winter afternoon she came to the end of the long road which had begunthe night atlanta fell. she had set her feet upon that road a spoiled, selfish and untried girl, full ofyouth, warm of emotion, easily bewildered by life. now, at the end of the road, there was nothingleft of that girl. hunger and hard labor, fear and constant strain, the terrors of war and the terrors ofreconstruction had taken away all warmth and youth and softness. about the core of her being, ashell of hardness had formed and, little by little, layer by layer, the shell had thickened during theendless months.
but until this very day, two hopes had been left to sustain her. she had hoped that the war beingover, life would gradually resume its old face. she had hoped that ashley’s return would bringback some meaning into life. now both hopes were gone. the sight of jonas wilkerson in the frontwalk of tara had made her realize that for her, for the whole south, the war would never end. thebitterest fighting, the most brutal retaliations, were just beginning. and ashley was imprisonedforever by words which were stronger than any jail.
peace had failed her and ashley had failed her, both in the same day, and it was as if the lastcrevice in the shell had been sealed, the final layer hardened. she had become what grandmafontaine had counseled against, a woman who had seen the worst and so had nothing else to fear.
not life nor mother nor loss of love nor public opinion. only hunger and her nightmare dream ofhunger could make her afraid.
a curious sense of lightness, of freedom, pervaded her now that she had finally hardened herheart against all that bound her to the old days and the old scarlett. she had made her decision and,thank god, she wasn’t afraid. she had nothing to lose and her mind was made up.
if she could only coax rhett into marrying her, all would be perfect. but if she couldn’t—well,she’d get the money just the same. for a brief moment she wondered with impersonal curiositywhat would be expected of a mistress. would rhett insist on keeping her in atlanta as people saidhe kept the watling woman? if he made her stay in atlanta, he’d have to pay well—pay enough tobalance what her absence from tara would be worth. scarlett was very ignorant of the hidden sideof men’s lives and had no way of knowing just what the arrangement might involve. and shewondered if she would have a baby. that would be distinctly terrible.
“i won’t think of that now. i’ll think of it later,” and she pushed the unwelcome idea into theback of her mind lest it shake her resolution. she’d tell the family tonight she was going to atlanta to borrow money, to try to mortgage the farm if necessary. that would be all they needed to knowuntil such an evil day when they might find out differently.
with the thought of action, her head went up and her shoulders went back. this affair was notgoing to be easy, she knew. formerly, it had been rhett who asked for her favors and she who heldthe power. now she was the beggar and a beggar in no position to dictate terms.
“but i won’t go to him like a beggar. i’ll go like a queen granting favors. he’ll never know.”
she walked to the long pier glass and looked at herself, her head held high. and she saw framedin the cracking gilt molding a stranger. it was as if she were really seeing herself for the first timein a year. she had glanced in the mirror every morning to see that her face was clean and her hairtidy but she had always been too pressed by other things to really see herself. but this stranger!
surely this thin hollow-cheeked woman couldn’t be scarlett o’hara! scarlett o’hara had a pretty,coquettish, high-spirited face. this face at which she stared was not pretty at all and had none ofthe charm she remembered so well. it was white and strained and the black brows above slantinggreen eyes swooped up startlingly against the white skin like frightened bird’s wings. there was ahard and hunted look about this face.
“i’m not pretty enough to get him!” she thought and desperation came back to her. “i’m thin—oh, i’m terribly thin!”
she patted her cheeks, felt frantically at her collar bones, feeling them stand out through herbasque. and her breasts were so small, almost as small as melanie’s. she’d have to put ruffles inher bosom to make them look larger and she had always had contempt for girls who resorted tosuch subterfuges. ruffles! that brought up another thought. her clothes. she looked down at herdress, spreading its mended folds wide between her hands. rhett liked women who were welldressed, fashionably dressed. she remembered with longing the flounced green dress she had wornwhen she first came out of mourning, the dress she wore with the green plumed bonnet he hadbrought her and she recalled the approving compliments he had paid her. she remembered, too,with hate sharpened by envy the red plaid dress, the red-topped boots with tassels and the pancakehat of emmie slattery. they were gaudy but they were new and fashionable and certainly theycaught the eye. and, oh, how she wanted to catch the eye! especially the eye of rhett butler! if heshould see her in her old clothes, he’d know everything was wrong at tara. and he must not know.
what a fool she had been to think she could go to atlanta and have him for the asking, she withher scrawny neck and hungry cat eyes and raggedy dress! if she hadn’t been able to pry a proposalfrom him at the height of her beauty, when she had her prettiest clothes, how could she expect toget one now when she was ugly and dressed tackily? if miss pitty’s story was true, he must havemore money than anyone in atlanta and probably had his pick of all the pretty ladies, good andbad. well, she thought grimly, i’ve got something that most pretty ladies haven’t got—and that’s amind that’s made up. and if i had just’ one nice dress—there wasn’t a nice dress in tara or a dress which hadn’t been turned twice and mended.
“that’s that,” she thought, disconsolately looking down at the floor. she saw ellen’s moss-greenvelvet carpet, now worn and scuffed and torn and spotted from the numberless men who had sleptupon it, and the sight depressed her more, for it made her realize that tara was just as ragged as she. the whole darkening room depressed her and, going to the window, she raised the sash,unlatched the shutters and let the last light of the wintry sunset into the room. she closed thewindow and leaned her head against the velvet curtains and looked out across the bleak pasturetoward the dark cedars of the burying ground.
the moss-green velvet curtains felt prickly and soft beneath her cheek and she rubbed her faceagainst them gratefully, like a cat and then suddenly she looked at them.
a minute later, she was dragging a heavy marble-topped table across the floor. its rusty castorsscreeching in protest. she rolled the table under the window, gathered up her skirts, climbed on itand tiptoed to reach the heavy curtain pole. it was almost out of her reach and she jerked at it soimpatiently the nails came out of the wood, and the curtains, pole and all, fell to the floor with aclatter.
as if by magic, the door of the parlor opened and the wide black face of mammy appeared,ardent curiosity and deepest suspicion evident in every wrinkle. she looked disapprovingly atscarlett, poised on the table top, her skirts above her knees, ready to leap to the floor. there was alook of excitement and triumph on her face which brought sudden distrust to mammy.
“whut you up to wid miss ellen’s po’teers?” she demanded.
“what are you up to listening outside doors?” asked scarlett, leaping nimbly to the floor andgathering up a length of the heavy dusty velvet.
“dat ain’ needer hyah no dar,” countered mammy, girding herself for combat “you ain’ got nobizness wid miss ellen’s po’teers, juckin’ de poles plum outer de wood, an’ drappin’ dem on deflo’ in de dust. miss ellen set gret sto’ by dem po’teers an’ ah ain’ ‘tendin’ ter have you muss demup dat way.”
scarlett turned green eyes on mammy, eyes which were feverishly gay, eyes which looked likethe bad little girl of the good old days mammy sighed about.
“scoot up to the attic and get my box of dress patterns, mammy,” she cried, giving her a slightshove. “i’m going to have a new dress.”
mammy was torn between indignation at the very idea of her two hundred pounds scootinganywhere, much less to the attic, and the dawning of a horrid suspicion. quickly she snatched thecurtain lengths from scarlett, holding them against her monumental, sagging breasts as if theywere holy relics.
“not outer miss ellen’s po’teers is you gwine have a new dress, ef dat’s whut you figgerin’ on.
not wile ah got breaf in mah body.”
for a moment the expression mammy was won’t to describe to herself as “bullheaded” flittedover her young mistress’ face and then it passed into a smile, so difficult for mammy to resist. butit did not fool the old woman. she knew miss scarlett was employing that smile merely to getaround her and in this matter she was determined not to be gotten around.
“mammy, don’t be mean. i’m going to atlanta to borrow some money and i’ve got to have anew dress.”
“you doan need no new dress. ain’ no other ladies got new dresses. dey weahs dey ole ones an’ dey weahs dem proudfully. ain’ no reason why miss ellen’s chile kain weah rags ef she wants ter,an’ eve’ybody respec’ her lak she wo’ silk.”
the bullheaded expression began to creep back. lordy, ‘twus right funny how de older missscarlett git de mo’ she look lak mist’ gerald and de less lak miss ellen!
“now, mammy, you know aunt pitty wrote us that miss fanny elsing is getting married thissaturday, and of course i’ll go to the wedding. and i’ll need a new dress to wear.”
“de dress you got on’ll be jes’ as nice as miss fanny’s weddin’ dress. miss pitty done wrote datde elsings mighty po’.”
“but i’ve got to have a new dress! mammy, you don’t know how we need money. the taxes—”
“yas’m, ah knows all ‘bout de taxes but—”
“you do?”
“well’m, gawd give me ears, din’ he, an’ ter hear wid? specially w’en mist’ will doan never tektrouble ter close de do’.”
was there nothing mammy did not overhear? scarlett wondered how that ponderous body whichshook the floors could move with such savage stealth when its owner wished to eavesdrop.
“well, if you heard all that, i suppose you heard jonas wilkerson and that emmie—”
“yas’m,” said mammy with smoldering eyes.
“well, don’t be a mule, mammy. don’t you see i’ve got to go to atlanta and get money for thetaxes? i’ve got to get some money. i’ve got to do it!” she hammered one small fist into the other.
“name of god, mammy, they’ll turn us all out into the road and then where’ll we go? are yougoing to argue with me about a little matter of mother’s curtains when that trash emmie slatterywho killed mother is fixing to move into this house and sleep in the bed mother slept in?”
mammy shifted from one foot to another like a restive elephant. she had a dim feeling that shewas being got around.
“no’m, ah ain’ wantin’ ter see trash in miss ellen’s house or us all in de road but—” she fixedscarlett with a suddenly accusing eye: “who is you fixin’ ter git money frum dat you needs a newdress?”
“that,” said scarlett, taken aback, “is my own business.”
mammy looked at her piercingly, just as she had done when scarlett was small and had triedunsuccessfully to palm off plausible excuses for misdeeds. she seemed to be reading her mind andscarlett dropped her eyes unwillingly, the first feeling of guilt at her intended conduct creepingover her.
“so you needs a spang new pretty dress ter borry money wid. dat doan lissen jes’ right ter me.
an’ you ain’ sayin’ whar de money ter come frum.”
“i’m not saying anything,” said scarlett indignantly. “it’s my own business. are you going togive me that curtain and help me make the dress?”
“yas’m,” said mammy softly, capitulating with a suddenness which aroused all the suspicion in scarlett’s mind. “ah gwine he’p you mek it an’ ah specs we mout git a petticoat outer de satinlinin’ of de po’teers an’ trim a pa’r pantalets wid de lace cuttins.”
she handed the velvet curtain back to scarlett and a sly smile spread over her face.
“miss melly gwine ter ‘lanta wid you, miss scarlett?”
“no,” said scarlett sharply, beginning to realize what was coming. “i’m going by myself.”
“dat’s whut you thinks,” said mammy firmly, “but ah is gwine wid you an’ dat new dress. yas,ma’m, eve’y step of de way.”
for an instant scarlett envisaged her trip to atlanta and her conversation with rhett withmammy glowering chaperonage like a large black cerberus in the background. she smiled againand put a hand on mammy’s arm.
“mammy darling, you’re sweet to want to go with me and help me, but how on earth would thefolks here get on without you? you know you just about run tara.”
“huh!” said mammy. “doan do no good ter sweet talk me, miss scarlett. ah been knowin’ yousence ah put de fust pa’r of diapers on you. ah’s said ah’s gwine ter ‘lanta wid you an’ gwine ahis. miss ellen be tuhnin’ in her grabe at you gwine up dar by yo’seff wid dat town full up widyankees an’ free niggers an’ sech like.”
“but i’ll be at aunt pittypat’s,” scarlett offered frantically.
“miss pittypat a fine woman an’ she think she see eve’ything but she doan,” said mammy, andturning with the majestic air of having closed the interview, she went into the hall. the boardstrembled as she called:
“prissy, child! fly up de stairs an’ fotch miss scarlett’s pattun box frum de attic an’ try an’ finede scissors without takin’ all night ‘bout it.”
“this is a fine mess,” thought scarlett dejectedly. “i’d as soon have a bloodhound after me.”
after supper had been cleared away, scarlett and mammy spread patterns on the dining-roomtable while suellen and carreen busily ripped satin linings from curtains and melanie brushed thevelvet with a clean hairbrush to remove the dust. gerald, will and ashley sat about the roomsmoking, smiling at the feminine tumult. a feeling of pleasurable excitement which seemed toemanate from scarlett was on them all, an excitement they could not understand. there was colorin scarlett’s face and a bright hard glitter in her eyes and she laughed a good deal. her laughterpleased them all, for it had been months since they had heard her really laugh. especially did itplease gerald. his eyes were less vague than-usual as they followed her swishing figure about theroom and he patted her approvingly whenever she was within reach. the girls were as excited as ifpreparing for a ball and they ripped and cut and basted as if making a ball dress of their own.
scarlett was going to atlanta to borrow money or to mortgage tara if necessary. but what was amortgage, after all? scarlett said they could easily pay it off out of next year’s cotton and havemoney left over, and she said it with such finality they did not think to question. and when theyasked who was going to lend the money she said: “layovers catch meddlers,” so archly they alllaughed and teased her about her millionaire friend.
“it must be captain rhett butler,” said melanie slyly and they exploded with mirth at thisabsurdity, knowing how scarlett hated him and never failed to refer to him as “that skunk, rhettbutler.”
but scarlett did not laugh at this and ashley, who had laughed, stopped abruptly as he sawmammy shoot a quick, guarded glance at scarlett.
suellen, moved to generosity by the party spirit of the occasion, produced her irish-lace collar,somewhat worn but still pretty, and carreen insisted that scarlett wear her slippers to atlanta, forthey were in better condition than any others at tara. melanie begged mammy to leave her enoughvelvet scraps to recover the frame of her battered bonnet and brought shouts of laughter when shesaid the old rooster was going to part with his gorgeous bronze and green-black tail feathers unlesshe took to the swamp immediately.
scarlett, watching the flying fingers, heard the laughter and looked at them all with concealedbitterness and contempt.
“they haven’t an idea what is really happening to me or to themselves or to the south. they stillthink, in spite of everything, that nothing really dreadful can happen to any of them because theyare who they are, o’haras, wilkeses, hamiltons. even the darkies feel that way. oh, they’re allfools! they’ll never realize! they’ll go right on thinking and living as they always have, andnothing will change them. melly can dress in rags and pick cotton and even help me murder a manbut it doesn’t change her. she’s still the shy well-bred mrs. wilkes, the perfect lady! and ashleycan see death and war and be wounded and lie in jail and come home to less than nothing and stillbe the same gentleman he was when he had all twelve oaks behind him. will is different. heknows how things really are but then will never had anything much to lose. and as for suellen andcarreen—they think all this is just a temporary matter. they don’t change to meet changed conditionsbecause they think it’ll all be over soon. they think god is going to work a miracle especiallyfor their benefit. but he won’t. the only miracle that’s going to be worked around here is the onei’m going to work on rhett butler. ... they won’t change. maybe they can’t change. i’m the onlyone who’s changed—and i wouldn’t have changed if i could have helped it.”
mammy finally turned the men out of the dining room and closed the door, so the fitting couldbegin. pork helped gerald upstairs to bed and ashley and will were left alone in the lamplight inthe front hall. they were silent for a while and will chewed his tobacco like a placid ruminantanimal. but his mild face was far from placid.
“this goin’ to atlanta,” he said at last in a slow voice, “i don’t like it. not one bit.”
ashley looked at will quickly and then looked away, saying nothing but wondering if will hadthe same awful suspicion which was haunting him. but that was impossible. will didn’t know whathad taken place in the orchard that afternoon and how it had driven scarlett to desperation. willcouldn’t have noticed mammy’s face when rhett butler’s name was mentioned and, besides, willdidn’t know about rhett’s money or his foul reputation. at least, ashley did not think he couldknow these things, but since coming back to tara he had realized that will, like mammy, seemedto know things without being told, to sense them before they happened. there was somethingominous in the air, exactly what ashley did nut know, but he was powerless to save scarlett fromit. she had not met his eyes once that evening and the hard bright gaiety with which she had treated him was frightening. the suspicions which tore at him were too terrible to be put intowords. he did not have the right to insult her by asking her if they were true. he clenched his fists.
he had no rights at all where she was concerned; this afternoon he had forfeited them all, forever.
he could not help her. no one could help her. but when he thought of mammy and the look ofgrim determination she wore as she cut into the velvet curtains, he was cheered a little. mammywould take care of scarlett whether scarlett wished it or not.
“i have caused all this,” he thought despairingly. “i have driven her to this.”
he remembered the way she had squared her shoulders when she turned away from him thatafternoon, remembered the stubborn lift of her head. his heart went out to her, torn with his ownhelplessness, wrenched with admiration. he knew she had no such word in her vocabulary asgallantry, knew she would have stared blankly if he had told her she was the most gallant soul hehad ever known. he knew she would not understand how many truly fine things he ascribed to herwhen he thought of her as gallant he knew that she took life as it came, opposed her tough-fiberedmind to whatever obstacles there might be, fought with a determination that would not recognize defeat, and kept on fighting even when she saw d(on) efeat was inevitable.
but, for four years, he had seen others who had refused to recognize defeat, men who rode gailyinto sure disaster because they were gallant and they had been defeated, just the same.
he thought as he stared at will in the shadowy hall that he had never known such gallantry asthe gallantry of scarlett o’hara going forth to conquer the world in her mother’s velvet curtainsand the tail feathers of a rooster.
思嘉走上屋前的台阶时，她手里还抓着那团红泥。她小心翼翼地避免走后门，因为嬷嬷眼尖，一定会看出她做了什么大不该的事。她不想看见嬷嬷或任何别的人，她觉得她再也没有勇气同别人见面或交谈了。她没有什么难为情、失望或痛苦的感觉，只觉得两腿发软，心里空虚到了极点。她用力捏紧那团泥土，捏得从拳头缝里挤出泥来，同时她一次又一次像鹦鹉学舌似地说：“我还有这个呢。是的，我还有这个。"她已没有什么别的东西了；除了这块土地，除了这块她刚才几分钟前还想将它像块破手帕似的遗弃的土地，她什么也没有了。现在，这土地又显得可爱起来，她暗暗诧异，不知是一股什么疯劲儿支使她，竟会把这块土地看得一钱不值了。要是艾希礼让步，她这时肯定已经和他一起离开这里，义无反顾地丢下家庭和朋友，不过，即使在内心空虚时她也明白，要丢下这些可爱的红色山冈和久经冲洗的沟渠，以及黑黝黝的枯瘦松林，那是多么令人揪心的事。她的心思一定会如饥似渴地回到它们身边来，直到她临终那一天为止。即使是艾希礼也难以填补她心中因塔拉被挖走而留下的空白。艾希礼是多么聪明又多么清楚地了解她呀！他只要把一团湿土塞到她手里，她头脑马上就清醒了。
她正在穿堂里准备关门，这时她听到了马蹄声，便转过身去看马车道上的动静。万一在这个时候有客人来，那就讨厌了。她得赶快回自己房里去推说头疼。
但是马车驶近时，她大为惊讶，便不再逃跑了。那是一辆新马车，擦得铮亮，鞍辔也是新的，还镶着许多闪光的铜片。这无疑是生客。凡是她认识的人当中没有一个能买得起这样显赫而簇新的装备。
她站在门道里看着。冷风吹动着她的衣裙，在她那双湿脚周围飕飕地刮着。这时马车在屋前停下，乔纳斯·威尔克森跳下车来。思嘉看见他们家这位监工居然坐上了这么漂亮的马车，穿上了这么精致的大衣，不觉大吃一惊，几乎不相信自己的眼睛。威尔告诉过她，自从他在"自由人局"谋到新的差使以来，他显得很阔绰，敲诈黑人或政府，或者没收人们的棉花，硬说那是联邦政府的。因此赚了许多钱，毫无疑问，这些钱决不是他在这样的艰难岁月里能正当挣来的。
如今就是这个威尔克森，从那辆漂亮的马车上下来，然后又搀扶一个穿着打扮与她身份相称的妇人下了车。思嘉一眼便觉得那衣服颜色亮得刺眼，庸俗到了极点，不过她还是很有兴趣地从头到脚打量了一番。很久以来，对于时髦的衣着她甚至连看的机会也没有了。嗯！今年不怎么兴宽阔的裙箍了，她心里想，同时打量着那件红色花纹的长衣。还有，合拢那个黑鹅绒宽外套后，你便知道当今的外套有多短了。多小巧的帽子！无边帽准是过时了。因这顶带檐帽戴在妇女头顶上像个硬邦邦的大饼。帽带不是像软帽那样系在下巴底下，而是系在背后那束高高的发卷下面，发鬈从帽子后边往下垂着，使得思嘉不能不特别注意，但帽子无论在颜色或质地上都与这个女人的头发不相配。
那女人下了马车后，一双眼睛立即朝房子望去。思嘉发现她扑满了白粉的兔儿脸上有些似曾相识的东西。
“呀，原来是埃米·斯莱特里！"她嚷道，因为十分惊异，不觉提高了嗓门。
“是的，是我！"埃米说，含一丝傲慢的微笑扬起头来，开始走上台阶。
埃米·斯莱特里！这个狡猾的荡妇，爱伦给她的婴儿施过洗礼，可她却把伤寒症传染给爱伦，送了她的命。这个浓妆艳抹、粗俗而肮脏的白人渣滓，如今正昂首阔步、得意洋洋地走上塔拉的台阶，仿佛她就是这里的人了。思嘉想起爱伦来，感觉又突如起来地回到她那空虚的心田，一股暴怒像疟疾似的震憾着她。
“滚下台阶，你这贱货！"她大声喝道。"从这里滚开！滚开！"埃米的颚骨顿时垂下来，她看看乔纳斯，只见他正皱着眉头往上走。他尽管很生气，但仍竭力保持威严。
“不许你用这种态度对我妻子说话，"他说。
“妻子？"思嘉不禁轻蔑地笑起来，这大大刺伤了对方。
“你早该讨她做老婆了。你害死我母亲以后，是谁替你后来的孩子们施洗礼的啊？"埃米"啊！"了一声便连忙转身下台阶，但乔纳斯一把拉住她的胳臂，不让她向马车那边逃跑。
“我们是来拜访的----友好的拜访嘛，"他竭力嚷道，"想同老朋友谈一桩小事情----”“朋友？"思嘉的声音厉害得像抽了一鞭子。"我们什么时候跟你们这样下贱的人交过朋友？斯莱特里家当初靠我们的施舍过活。后来却以害死我母亲当作回报----而你----你----我爸因为你跟埃米养了私生子才把你开除了，这一点你很清楚。这是朋友吗？赶快从这里滚开吧，免得我把本廷先生和威尔克斯先生叫来。"听到这里，埃米便挣脱了丈夫的手向马车逃去，拖着那双带有雪亮的红鞋帮和红流苏的小靴爬上马车。
这时乔纳斯也跟思嘉一样气得浑身发抖，他那张松驰的胖脸涨得发紫，活像一只愤怒的土耳其火鸡。
“你以为现在还是有权有势？可是，我对你一清二楚。我知道你连双鞋也没有，打赤脚了。我知道你父亲已经成了白痴----"“从这里给我滚开！"“哼，我看你这腔调也叫不了多久了。我知道，你已经完蛋了。你连税金也付不起。我到这儿来是想买你的这个地方----给你出个公道的价钱。埃米巴望住在这里。可现在，说实话，我连一分钱也不给你了！你们这些住惯了沼泽地、自以为了不起的爱尔兰人，等你们因为交不起税金被赶走的时候，便会明白现在在这里掌权的究竟是些什么人了。到了那个时候，我要买下这块地方，通通买下来----连家具及所有的一切----那时我要住在这里。"原来，一心想要夺走塔拉的人就是乔纳斯·威尔克森—-乔纳斯和埃米，他们用迂回的手法极力要搬进曾经使他们蒙受侮辱的住所，以达到报复的目的。思嘉的全部神经充满了仇恨，就像那天她把枪筒对准那个长满络腮胡的北方佬面孔开火时似的。她恨不得此刻手里还握着那支枪呢。
“不等你们的脚迈进门槛，我就要把这所房子一块石头一块石头地拆掉，把它烧光，然后遍地撒上盐。"她高声喊道。
“我叫你滚出去！给我滚开！”
乔纳斯恶狠狠地瞪着她。想继续说下去，但随即向马车走去。他爬进马车，坐在那个正在抽泣的新娘身边，然后掉转马头。他们走时，思嘉还真想啐他们一口。她真的啐了，她明知这是一种粗俗的孩子气的举动，但却因此觉得心里舒畅多了。她巴不得他们还看得见这一举动。
那些该死的黑人同情者竟敢跑到这里来当面奚落她的贫穷！那个卑鄙的家伙根本就不想给塔拉出什么价钱。他只不过以此为借口到思嘉面前炫耀自己和埃米罢了。那些厚颜无耻的提包党人，浑身长满虱子的穷白人，还吹牛要住到塔拉来呢。
可是，她突然害怕起来，这时怒气全消了。该死的！他们想住到这里来呢！她竟毫无办法能阻止他们购买塔拉，毫无办法阻止他们扣押每一面镜子，每一张桌子和床，扣押爱伦的桃花心木家具，以及每一件尽管已经被北方佬暴徒弄坏但对她却仍然十分珍贵的东西。还有那些罗毕拉德家的银器。我决不让他们得逞，思嘉忿忿地想。不，即使我不得不把这地方烧毁！埃米·斯莱特里永远也休想踏上任何一小块母亲曾经走动过的地方！
她关起门来，将背靠在门上，但仍然感到非常害怕，甚至比谢尔曼的军队住进这所房子里的那天还怕得厉害得多。
那天她最感到害怕的是塔拉可能会不由她分说硬被烧掉。可这次更糟----这些卑劣的家伙将住在这所房子里向他们的狐朋狗党大肆吹嘘他们如何把骄傲的奥哈拉家赶出去了。说不定他们还会把黑人带到这里吃饭睡觉。威尔告诉过她，乔纳斯曾煞有介事地让黑人与他平起平坐，同他们一起吃喝，到他们家去拜访，让他们坐他的马车同他一起兜风，还一路抱着他们的肩膀亲热呢。
她一想到塔拉有可能遭到这样最后一次侮辱，心怦怦乱跳得几乎要透不过起来了。她竭力镇静下来考虑眼前的问题，设想一条出路，但她每次集中思考时，总有一股新的愤怒与恐惧的激情震撼她。出路一定会有的，有钱人总是有的。一定会有人能借钱给她。不可能恰好这时候钱都用光了，或者吹走了。于是艾希礼开玩笑的话又回到她的耳边：“只有一个人，瑞德·巴特勒……他有钱。"瑞德·巴特勒。她匆忙走进客厅，随手把门关上。从百叶窗透进来的幽暗的微光和冬天的暮色把她紧紧地包围着。
谁也不会想起要到这里打扰她，而她正需要时间来安静地想一想。刚才脑子里闪出的那个念头原来这样简单，她不明白以前为什么她竟没有想到过。
“我要从巴特勒那里弄到钱。我要把钻石耳环卖给他，要不就向他借钱，用耳环作抵押，将来有了钱再还给他。"这时候，她觉得大大放松了，结果反而显得虚弱起来。她将交纳税金，并在乔纳斯·威尔克森面前放声大笑。可是紧跟着这个愉快的念头，出现了严酷的事实。
“我不光是今年要交纳税金，还有明年和我今后一生中的每一年呢。要是我这次交了，他们下次定会将税额提得更高，直到把我赶走为止。如果我的棉田得一次丰收，他们就抽它的税，到头来叫我一无所得，或者干脆将棉花没收，说它是联邦政府的。北方佬和那帮追随他们的恶棍已经把我带到他们所需要的地步了。只要我还活着，便一辈子都得担心他们会把我抓祝我得一辈子担惊受吓，拼命挣钱，直到累死为止，眼看着自己的劳动一无所获，棉花被人家抢走了事……就说借三百美元来交税款，这也只能救当务之急。我所需要的是永远脱出这个圈套，好让我每晚安心睡觉，用不着为明天、下个月、乃至明年将要发生的事情操心。“她继续这样思索着。有个念头冷静而自然地在她的脑子里形成了。她想起瑞德，想起他那在黝黑皮肤衬托下闪光的雪白牙齿，以及那双一直在抚慰她的黑眼睛。她记起亚特兰大被围困的最后阶段那个十分炎热的夜晚，那时他坐在皮蒂姑妈的一半为夏天的朦胧月色所掩蔽的走廊上，她感觉到他那只炙热的手又握住了她的胳膊，他一面说：“我想要你超过以前想过以前想要的任何一个女人----我对你比对任何一个女人都等待得更久了。"“我要跟他结婚，"她冷静地想道。"到那时，我就再也用不着为钱操心了。"多么美好的念头啊，比登天的希望还可爱呢，永远也不必再为钱操心，相信塔拉永远平安无事，而且全家不愁吃穿，她自己也无需再在石壁上碰得鼻青脸肿了！
她觉得自己很老了。下午的几件事已耗尽了她的全部感情，最初是那个关于税金的惊人消息，然后是艾希礼，最后是她对乔纳斯·威尔克森的一场暴怒。现在，她已没有什么感情了。如果说她的感觉能力还没有完全枯竭，那么她身上一定会有某种力量起来反对她头脑中正在形成的那个计划，因为这世界上没有第二个像瑞德那样叫她憎恨了。但是她已经没有感情作用。她只能思考，而她的思想是非常实际的。
“那天晚上当他在路上把我们甩掉的时候，我对他说过些可怕的话，不过我可以让他忘掉，”她这样毫不在意地想着，显然相信自己依旧是迷人的。"只要我在他身旁，巴特勒还是不好轻易消受的。我要叫他感到我曾经一直爱他，而且那天晚上不过是心烦意乱又十分害怕而已。唔，男人总是自命不凡的，只要你恭维他，说什么他也相信……我决不能让巴特勒意识到我们当前处于怎样的困境，要先征服他再说。嗯，决不能让他知道！即使他怀疑我们已经穷了，他也得知道我所需要的是钱而不是他这个人。反正他无法知道，因为连皮蒂姑妈也不了解真实情况呢。而等到我同他结婚以后，他便不得不帮助我们了。他总不能让自己妻子家的人饿肚子呀。"他的妻子。瑞德·巴特勒夫人。在她的静静思考之下潜藏着的某种带着反感的意识隐约动了动，但很快就平静了。她想起她同查尔斯度过的那个矩暂密月中的令人厌恶的情景，他那摸索的双手，他那笨拙劲儿，他那不可思议的激情----以及韦德·汉普顿。
“现在不去想它。等同他结了婚再去动这个脑筋吧……"等到同他结了婚以后，记忆摇动了警铃。一股冷冰冰的感觉从她的脊椎直往下流。她再一次记起在皮蒂姑妈家的走廊上那个夜晚，记起她怎样询问他是否在向她求婚，记起他又是怎样恶狠狠地笑起来，并且说：”亲爱的，我是不打算结婚的呀！"也许他是不打算结婚。也许，尽管她那样迷人和狡黠，他还是拒绝娶她。也许----啊，多可怕的想法！----也许他完全把她忘了，并且正在追逐别的女人。
“我想要你超过以前我想要的任何一个女人……"思嘉紧紧地握着拳头，几乎把指甲插到手心肉里去了。
“如果他把我忘掉了，我也要叫他记起来。我要叫他再一次想要我。"而且，如果他不想娶她而只是仍然想要她，那也有办法拿到钱的。毕竟，他曾经有一次要求她当他的情妇嘛。
她在客厅暗淡的光线中竭力要同那三条最能束缚她灵魂的绳子进行一次迅速的决战----那就是对爱伦的思念、她的宗教信条，以及对艾希礼的爱，她知道自己心中的主意对于她那位即使远在温暖天国（她一定在那里）的母亲来说也必然是丑恶的。她知道私通是一种莫大的犯罪。她也知道，像她现在这样爱着艾希礼，她的计策更是双重的卖淫。
但所有这些在她心里头无情的冷酷和绝望的驱策面前都让步了。爱伦已经死了，而死亡或许会赋予人们理解一切的能力。宗教用地狱之火来胁迫，禁止私通，可是只要教会想想她是在不遗余力挽救塔拉，使它安然无恙，同时挽救她一家免于饥饿----那么，如果教会还要懊恼就让它懊恼去吧。她自己才不懊恼呢。至少现在还不。而且艾希礼----艾希礼并不要她呀。是的，他是要她的。她每回想起他吻她的嘴唇时那种温馨的感觉，便相信这一点。但是他永远了不会把她带走。真奇，怎么想跟艾希礼逃走就好像不是犯罪似的，而一跟瑞德----在这个冬天傍晚的苍苍暮色中，她来到了从亚特兰大沦陷之夜开端的那条漫漫长路的尽头。当初踏上这条路时，她还是个娇惯了的、自私自利而不谙世故的少女，浑身的青春活力，满怀热忱，很容易为生活所迷惑。如今，走到了这条长路的尽头，那个少女在她身上已经无影无踪了。饥饿和劳累，恐惧和紧张，战争和恐怖，早已带走了她的全部温暖、青春和柔情。在她生命的内核周围已经形成一层硬壳，而且，随着无尽的岁月，这支硬壳已经一点一点、一层一层地变得很厚了。
然而，直到今天为止，还两个希望在支撑着她。她一直希望战争结束后生活会逐渐恢复它的本来面目。她一直希望艾希礼的归来会给生活带回某种意义。如今这两个希望都已成了泡影。而乔纳斯·威尔克森在塔拉前面走道上的出现更使她明白了，原来对于她，对于整个南方来说，战争是永远不会结束的。最激烈的战斗，最残酷的报复，还刚刚开始呢。
而且艾希礼已经被自己的话永远禁锢起来，这是比牢房还要坚固的呀。
和平令她失望了，艾希礼令她失望了，两者都在同一天发生，这仿佛那层硬壳上的最后一丝缝隙已被堵上。最后一层皮已经硬化了。她已经成为方丹老太太曾劝她不要做的那种人，即成为一个饱经艰险因而敢做敢为的妇女。无论是生活或者母亲，或者爱情的丧失，或者社会舆论，一概不在乎了。只有饥饿和饥饿的梦魇才是她觉得可怕。
她一经横下心来反对那些将她捆缚在旧时代和旧的思嘉的一切，这时她便感到浑身轻松自在了。她已经作出决定，并且托上帝的福一点也不害怕了。她已经没有什么可以丧失的了，她的决心已经下定。
只要她能够诱惑瑞德跟她结婚，便一切称心如意了。可是万一----他办不到呢----那也没有什么，她同样会拿到那笔钱。她有那么一会儿竟怀着自然的好奇心想起当情妇会是什么样的滋味。瑞德会不会要她留在亚特兰大，就像人们说的他把沃特琳那个女人养在那里一样呢？如果他叫她留在亚特兰大那就得付钱----付出足够的钱来补偿因她离开塔拉而受到的损失。思嘉对于男人生活中的隐秘一面毫无所知，也无法去了解这种安排可能涉及到的问题。她还说不准要不要有个孩子。那可毫不含糊是活受罪呀。
“我现在不去想它，以后再去想吧，"就这样她把这个令人心烦的念头抛到脑后，免得动摇自己的决心。今晚她就告诉家人，她要到亚特兰大去借钱，必要时设法用农场作抵押。
他们只需要知道这一点就行。等到以后他们发现根本不是那么回事时，那就活该了。
一想到行动，她就昂头挺胸起来。她清楚，这桩事不会是轻而易举的。上一次，那是瑞德在讨好她，而她自己是掌权人。可如今她成了乞丐，是个无权提出条件的乞丐了。
“可是我决不像乞丐去求他。我要像个施恩的王后那样到他那里去。他万万不会知道的。
她来到那块高高的壁前，昂起头端详自己。她看见带有裂纹的镀金镜框里站着一个陌生人。仿佛一年来她真是第一次看见自己。实际上她每天早晨都照镜子，看自己的脸是否干净，头发是否整齐，不过她每次因为有别的事情压在心上，很少真正端详自己，可是这个陌生人呀！这个脸颊瘦削的女人不可能就是思嘉呀，思嘉有着一个漂亮的迷人的、容光焕发的脸蛋呀！可是她看见的这张脸一点不漂亮，也丝毫没有她清楚记得的那种魅力了。这是张苍白憔粹的脸，而且那双向上斜挑着的绿眼睛上方的黑眉毛，在苍白皮肤的衬托下，也像受惊鸟儿的双翅那样突然扬起，给人以骇异的感觉。她脸上呈现出一种艰辛而窘迫的神态。她想：“我的容貌已引诱不了他。"于是又有了绝望的心情。"我消瘦了----消瘦得多么可怕啊！”她拍拍自己的脸蛋，又急切地摸摸锁骨，觉得它们已经从紧身上衣里矗出来了，而她的乳房已那么干瘪，几乎跟媚兰的一样小了。看来她已不得不在胸部塞些棉絮什么的，使乳房显得丰满些才行，可她一贯瞧不起搞这种假名堂的女孩子的呀。假乳房嘛！这叫她想起另外一件事来。她的衣着。她低头看看自己的衣裙，把补过的衣褶摊在手里看着。瑞德喜欢女人穿着好，穿得时髦。她怀着期待的心情想起她服丧后第一次出门时穿的那件有荷叶边的绿衣裳和他带来的那顶羽毛装饰的绿色帽子，这些得到了他的连声赞赏。她还怀着羡慕甚至忌妒的心情想起埃米·斯莱特里那件红格衣服，那双带穗的红靴子和那顶煎饼式的宽边帽。这些东西都很俗气，但是又新又时髦，准能惹人注意。而现在，瞧，她多么需要惹人注意啊！尤其是瑞德·巴特勒的注意！要是他看见她穿着旧衣服，他便会明白在塔拉什么都不行了。可是万万不能让他明白呀。
她竟然以为凭着她这又细又瘦的脖子，馋猫般的眼睛，破旧的衣着，就可以到亚特兰大去按自己的需要拿住人家，这是多么愚蠢的想法啊！要是她在自己最美、穿着漂亮的时候还没能赢得他向她求爱，那么如今邋邋遢遢，她怎么还敢存这种希望呢？如果皮蒂姑妈讲故事属实，那他会是亚特兰大最有钱的人，并且很可能对那里所有的漂亮女人，好的坏的都挑拣过了。好吧，她泄气地想，我只具有大多数漂亮女人所没有的东西，那就是下定了决心。不过，要是我有一件漂亮衣服----在塔拉可没有什么漂亮衣服，甚至连一件没有翻改两次的衣服也没有。
“就这样吧，"她心里嘀咕着，失望地俯视着地板。她看见爱伦的苔绿色天鹅绒地毯，它已经很旧，有的地方磨坏了，撕破了，而且由于无数人在上面睡过而留下了许多污渍，何况思嘉看见便明白塔拉也像这地毯一样破旧不堪，更加觉得丧。整个那间愈来愈暗的房子都令她沮丧，这时她走到窗前，举起窗棂，打开百叶窗，将冬日傍晚最后的光线放进房里。她关好窗户，把头倚在天鹅绒窗帘上，两眼越过荒凉的田野向墓地上的苍苍柏树林望去。
那苔绿色的窗帘使她脸颊上有一种刺痒而柔软的感觉，她欣慰地把脸贴在上面轻轻摩擦。忽然她像一只猫似的瞪着眼睛呆呆地看着它。
几分种后，她将那张沉重的大理石面桌上从对面拉过来。
桌腿下面生锈的脚轮像抗议似的吱吱作响。她把桌子推到窗下，将裙子扎起来，爬到桌上，踮起脚尖去抓那笨重的窗帘杆。但是，那杆子挂得太高，她很难够得着，只得耐心地一次又一次跳起来去抓它，好不容易才把铁钉从木框上拉出来，窗帘和杆子一起掉下来，哗啦一声落在地板上。
仿佛施了魔法似的，那扇客厅的门忽地开了，嬷嬷那张宽大的黑脸随即出现在门口，几乎每道皱纹都流露出热切的好奇和深深的疑惑。她很不以为然地看着思嘉，后者正站在桌上，撩起裙子，露出膝盖，准备跳下地来。她脸上浮出激动和胜利的神色，嬷嬷马上怀疑起来。
“你动爱伦小姐的窗帘干什么？"嬷嬷问。
“你站在门外偷听？"思嘉反问道，一面轻捷地跳下地来，然后将这块因年久尘封而越发沉重的天鹅绒叠好。
“根本用不着在门外偷听，"嬷嬷反驳她，一面双手叉腰，准备干仗了。"爱伦小姐的窗帘碍你什么了，犯得着你把杆子也拔出来，一古脑儿拽下来。爱伦小姐生前那么爱惜这些帘子，我可不让你这样糟踏！"恩嘉用忌妒的目光盯着嬷嬷，这双热切而愉快的眼睛使人想起从前幸福年月里那个顽劣的小姑娘，对于那些年月，嬷嬷如今只有惋叹了。
“嬷嬷，快到阁楼上去把我那只装衣服样子的箱子取下来。"她喊着，轻轻推了她一把。"我要做一件新衣裳。"嬷嬷一面想着要她这二百磅的笨重身躯爬上爬下十分恼怒，一面又恐惧地感到有什么可怕的一事要发生了。她连忙把几块窗帘从思嘉手里一把抢过来，紧紧抱着压在她那对下垂的乳房上，仿佛那神圣不可侵犯的遗物。
“你不能用爱伦小姐的窗帘来作新衣服，要是你居然打这个主意的话，只要我还有一口气，你就休想。"一瞬间，