飘-第119章

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n。　As　her　slanting　eyebrows　rushed　down　together　in　a　frown　Rhett’s　old　smile　came　back。
　“Now　you　are　better。　I　can　tell　it　by　your　scowl。”
　“Of　course；　I’m　all　right。　Rhett　Butler；　you　are　hateful；　a　skunk；　if　ever　I　saw　one！　You　knew　very　well　what　I　was　going　to　say　as　soon　as　I　started　talking　and　you　knew　you　weren’t　going　to　give　me　the　money。　And　yet　you　let　me　go　right　on。　You　could　have　spared　me—”
　“Spared　you　and　missed　hearing　all　that？　Not　much。　I　have　so　few　diversions　here。　I　don’t　know　when　I’ve　ever　heard　anything　so　gratifying。”　He　laughed　his　sudden　mocking　laugh。　At　the　sound　she　leaped　to　her　feet；　snatching　up　her　bonnet。
　He　suddenly　had　her　by　the　shoulders。
　“Not　quite　yet。　Do　you　feel　well　enough　to　talk　sense？”
　“Let　me　go！”
　“You　are　well　enough；　I　see。　Then；　tell　me　this。　Was　I　the　only　iron　you　had　in　the　fire？”　His　eyes　were　keen　and　alert；　watching　every　change　in　her　face。
　“What　do　you　mean？”
　“Was　I　the　only　man　you　were　going　to　try　this　on？”
　“Is　that　any　of　your　business？”
　“More　than　you　realize。　Are　there　any　other　men　on　your　string？　Tell　me！”
　“No。”
　“Incredible。　I　can’t　imagine　you　without　five　or　six　in　reserve。　Surely　someone　will　turn　up　to　accept　your　interesting　proposition。　I　feel　so　sure　of　it　that　I　want　to　give　you　a　little　advice。”
　“I　don’t　want　your　advice。”
　“Nevertheless　I　will　give　it。　Advice　seems　to　be　the　only　thing　I　can　give　you　at　present。　Listen　to　it；　for　it’s　good　advice。　When　you　are　trying　to　get　something　out　of　a　man；　don’t　blurt　it　out　as　you　did　to　me。　Do　try　to　be　more　subtle；　more　seductive。　It　gets　better　results。　You　used　to　know　how；　to　perfection。　But　just　now　when　you　offered　me　your—er—collateral　for　my　money　you　looked　as　hard　as　nails。　I’ve　seen　eyes　like　yours　above　a　dueling　pistol　twenty　paces　from　me　and　they　aren’t　a　pleasant　sight。　They　evoke　no　ardor　in　the　male　breast。　That’s　no　way　to　handle　men；　my　dear。　You　are　forgetting　your　early　training。”
　“I　don’t　need　you　to　tell　me　how　to　behave；”　she　said　and　wearily　put　on　her　bonnet。　She　wondered　how　he　could　jest　so　blithely　with　a　rope　about　his　neck　and　her　pitiful　circumstances　before　him。　She　did　not　even　notice　that　his　hands　were　jammed　in　his　pockets　in　hard　fists　as　if　he　were　straining　at　his　own　impotence。
　“Cheer　up；”　he　said；　as　she　tied　the　bonnet　strings。　“You　can　come　to　my　hanging　and　it　will　make　you　feel　lots　better。　It’ll　even　up　all　your　old　scores　with　me—even　this　one。　And　I’ll　mention　you　in　my　will。”
　“Thank　you；　but　they　may　not　hang　you　till　it’s　too　late　to　pay　the　taxes；”　she　said　with　a　sudden　malice　that　matched　his　own；　and　she　meant　it。
　
　CHAPTER　XXXV
　IT　WAS　RAINING　when　she　came　out　of　the　building　and　the　sky　was　a　dull　putty　color。　The　soldiers　on　the　square　had　taken　shelter　in　their　huts　and　the　streets　were　deserted。　There　was　no　vehicle　in　sight　and　she　knew　she　would　have　to　walk　the　long　way　home。
　The　brandy　glow　faded　as　she　trudged　along。　The　cold　wind　made　her　shiver　and　the　chilly　needle…like　drops　drove　hard　into　her　face。　The　rain　quickly　penetrated　Aunt　Pitty’s　thin　cloak　until　it　hung　in　clammy　folds　about　her。　She　knew　the　velvet　dress　was　being　ruined　and　as　for　the　tail　feathers　on　the　bonnet；　they　were　as　drooping　and　draggled　as　when　their　former　owner　had　worn　them　about　the　wet　barn　yard　of　Tara。　The　bricks　of　the　sidewalk　were　broken　and；　for　long　stretches；　completely　gone。　In　these　spots　the　mud　was　ankle　deep　and　her　slippers　stuck　in　it　as　if　it　were　glue；　even　coming　completely　off　her　feet。　Every　time　she　bent　over　to　retrieve　them；　the　hem　of　the　dress　fell　in　the　mud。　She　did　not　even　try　to　avoid　puddles　but　stepped　dully　into　them；　dragging　her　heavy　skirts　after　her。　She　could　feel　her　wet　petticoat　and　pantalets　cold　about　her　ankles；　but　she　was　beyond　caring　about　the　wreck　of　the　costume　on　which　she　had　gambled　so　much。　She　was　chilled　and　disheartened　and　desperate。
　How　could　she　ever　go　back　to　Tara　and　face　them　after　her　brave　words？　How　could　she　tell　them　they　must　all　go—somewhere？　How　could　she　leave　it　all；　the　red　fields；　the　tall　pines；　the　dark　swampy　bottom　lands；　the　quiet　burying　ground　where　Ellen　lay　in　the　cedars’　deep　shade？
　Hatred　of　Rhett　burned　in　her　heart　as　she　plodded　along　the　slippery　way。　What　a　blackguard　he　was！　She　hoped　they　did　hang　him；　so　she　would　never　have　to　face　him　again　with　his　knowledge　of　her　disgrace　and　her　humiliation。　Of　course；　he　could　have　gotten　the　money　for　her　if　he’d　wanted　to　get　it。　Oh；　hanging　was　too　good　for　him。　Thank　God；　he　couldn’t　see　her　now；　with　her　clothes　soaking　wet　and　her　hair　straggling　and　her　teeth　chattering。　How　hideous　she　must　look　and　how　he　would　laugh！
　The　negroes　she　passed　turned　insolent　grins　at　her　and　laughed　among　themselves　as　she　hurried　by；　slipping　and　sliding　in　the　mud；　stopping；　panting　to　replace　her　slippers。　How　dared　they　laugh；　the　black　apes！　How　dared　they　grin　at　her；　Scarlett　O’Hara　of　Tara！　She’d　like　to　have　them　all　whipped　until　the　blood　ran　down　their　backs。　What　devils　the　Yankees　were　to　set　them　free；　free　to　jeer　at　white　people！
　As　she　walked　down　Washington　Street　the　landscape　was　as　dreary　as　her　own　heart。　Here　there　was　none　of　the　bustle　and　cheerfulness　which　she　had　noted　on　Peachtree　Street。　Here　many　handsome　homes　had　once　stood；　but　few　of　them　had　been　rebuilt。　Smoked　foundations　and　the　lonesome　blackened　chimneys；　now　known　as　“Sherman’s　Sentinels；”　appeared　with　disheartening　frequency。　Overgrown　paths　led　to　what　had　been　houses—old　lawns　thick　with　dead　weeds；　carriage　blocks　bearing　names　she　knew　so　well；　hitching　posts　which　would　never　again　know　the　knot　of　reins。　Cold　wind　and　rain；　mud　and　bare　trees；　silence　and　desolation。　How　wet　her　feet　were　and　how　long　the　journey　home！
　She　heard　the　splash　of　hooves　behind　her　and　moved　farther　over　on　the　narrow　sidewalk　to　avoid　more　mud　splotches　on　Aunt　Pittypat’s　cloak。　A　horse　and　buggy　came　slowly　up　the　road　and　she　turned　to　watch　it；　determined　to　beg　a　ride　if　the　driver　was　a　white　person。　The　rain　obscured　her　vision　as　the　buggy　came　abreast；　but　she　saw　the　driver　peer　over　the　tarpaulin　that　stretched　from　the　dashboard　to　his　chin。　There　was　something　familiar　about　his　face　and　as　she　stepped　out　into　the　road　to　get　a　closer　view；　there　was　an　embarrassed　little　cough　from　the　man　and　a　well…known　voice　cried　in　accents　of　pleasure　and　astonishment：　“Surely；　it　can’t　be　Miss　Scarlett！”
　“Oh；　Mr。　Kennedy！”　she　cried；　splashing　across　the　road　and　leaning　on　the　muddy　wheel；　heedless　of　further　damage　to　the　cloak。　“I　was　never　so　glad　to　see　anybody　in　my　life！”
　He　colored　with　pleasure　at　the　obvious　sincerity　of　her　words；　hastily　squirted　a　stream　of　tobacco　juice　from　the　opposite　side　of　the　buggy　and　leaped　spryly　to　the　ground。　He　shook　her　hand　enthusiastically　and　holding　up　the　tarpaulin；　assisted　her　into　the　buggy。
　“Miss　Scarlett；　what　are　you　doing　over　in　this　section　by　yourself？　Don’t　you　know　ifs　dangerous　these　days？　And　you　are　soaking　wet。　Here；　wrap　the　robe　around　your　feet。”
　As　he　fussed　over　her；　clucking　like　a　hen；　she　gave　herself　up　to　the　luxury　of　being　taken　care　of。　It　was　nice　to　have　a　man　fussing　and　clucking　and　scolding；　even　if　it　was　only　that　old　maid　in　pants；　Frank　Kennedy。　It　was　especially　soothing　after　Rhett’s　brutal　treatment。　And　oh；　how　good　to　see　a　County　face　when　she　was　so　far　from　home！　He　was　well　dressed；　she　noticed；　and　the　buggy　was　new　too。　The　horse　looked　young　and　well　fed；　but　Frank　looked　far　older　than　his　years；　older　than　on　that　Christmas　eve　when　he　had　been　at　Tara　with　his　men。　He　was　thin　and　sallow　faced　and　his　yellow　eyes　were　watery　and　sunken　in　creases　of　loose　flesh。　His　ginger…colored　beard　was　scantier　than　ever；　streaked　with　tobacco　juice　and　as　ragged　as　if　he　clawed　at　it　incessantly。　But　he　looked　bright　and　cheerful；　in　contrast　with　the　lines　of　sorrow　and　worry　and　weariness　which　Scarlett　saw　in　faces　everywhere。
　“It’s　a　pleasure　to　see　you；”　said　Frank　warmly。　I　didn’t　know　you　were　in　town。　I　saw　Miss　Pittypat　only　last　week　and　she　didn’t　tell　me　you　were　coming。　Did—er—ahem—did　anyone　else　come　op　from　Tara　with　you？”
　He　was　thinking　of　Suellen；　the　silly　old　fool！
　“No；”　she　said；　wrapping　the　warm　lap　robe　about　her　and　trying　to　pull　it　up　around　her　neck。　“I　came　alone。　I　didn’t　give　Aunt　Pitty　any　warning。”
　He　chirruped　to　the　horse　and　it　plodded　off；　picking　its　way　carefully　down　the　slick　road。
　“All　the　folks　at　Tara　well？”
　“Oh；　yes；　so…so。”
　She　must　think　of　something　to　talk　about；　yet　it　was　so　hard　to　talk。　Her　mind　was　leaden　with　defeat　and　all　she　wanted　was　to　lie　back　in　this　warm　blanket　and　say　to　herself：　I　won’t　think　of　Tara　now。　I’ll　think　of　it　later；　when　it　won’t　hurt　so　much。”　If　she　could　just　get　him　started　talking　on　some　subject　which　would　hold　him　all　the　way　home；　so　she　would　have　nothing　to　do　but　murmur　“How　nice”　and　“You　certainly　are　smart”　at　intervals。
　“Mr。　Kennedy；　I’m　so　surprised　to　see　you。　I　know　I’ve　been　a　bad　girl；　not　keeping　up　with　old　friends；　but　I　didn’t　know　you　were　here　in　Atlanta。　I　thought　somebody　told　me　you　were　in　Marietta。”
　“I　do　business　in　Marietta；　a　lot　of　business；”　he　said。　“Didn’t　Miss　Suellen　tell　you　I　had　settled　in　Atlanta？　Didn’t　she　tell　you　about　my　store？”
　Vaguely　she　had　a　memory　of　Suellen　chattering　about　Frank　and　a　store　but　she　never　paid　much　heed　to　anything　Suellen　said。　It　had　been　sufficient　to　know　that　Frank　was　alive　and　would　some　day　take　Suellen　off　her　hands。
　“No；　not　a　word；”　she　lied。　“Have　you　a　store？　How　smart　you　must　be！”
　He　looked　a　little　hurt　at　hearing　that　Suellen　had　not　published　the　news　but　brightened　at　the　flattery。
　“Yes；　I’ve　got　a　store；　and　a　pretty　good　one　I　think。　Folks　tell　me　I’m　a　born　merchant。”　He　laughed　pleasedly；　the　tittery　cackling　laugh　which　she　always　found　so　annoying。
　Conceited　old　fool；　she　thought。
　“Oh；　you　could　be　a　success　at　anything　you　turned　your　hand　to；　Mr。　Kennedy。　But　how　on　earth　did　you　ever　get　started　with　the　store？　When　I　saw　you　Christmas　before　last　you　said　you　didn’t　have　a　cent　in　the　world。”
　He　cleared　his　throat　raspingly；　clawed　at　his　whiskers　and　smiled　his　nervous　timid　smile。
　“Well；　it’s　a　long　story；　Miss　Scarlett。”
　Thank　the　Lord！　she　thought。　Perhaps　it　will　hold　him　till　we　get　home。　And　aloud：　“Do　tell！”
　“You　recall　when　we　came　to　Tara　last；　hunting　for　supplies？　Well；　not　long　after　that　I　went　into　active　service。　I　mean　real　fighting。　No　more　commissary　for　me。　There　wasn’t　much　need　for　a　commissary；　Miss　Scarlett；　because　we　couldn’t　hardly　pick　up　a　thing　for　the　army；　and　I　thought　the　place　for　an　able…bodied　man　was　in　the　fighting　line。　Well；　I　fought　along　with　the　cavalry　for　a　spell　till　I　got　a　minie　ball　through　the　shoulder。”
　He　looked　very　proud　and　Scarlett　said：　“How　dreadful！”
　“Oh；　it　wasn’t　so　bad；　just　a　flesh　wound；”　he　said　deprecatingly。　“I　was　sent　down　south　to　a　hospit