飘-第34章

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now　knows　that　sobbing　can　no　longer　help　her。　She　burrowed　her　head　in　the　pillow　and　cried　and　kicked　her　feet　at　the　tufted　counterpane。
　“I　might　as　well　be　dead！”　she　sobbed　passionately。　Before　such　an　exhibition　of　grief；　Pittypat’s　easy　tears　ceased　and　Melly　flew　to　the　bedside　to　comfort　her　sister…in…law。
　“Dear；　don’t　cry！　Try　to　think　how　much　Charlie　loved　you　and　let　that　comfort　you！　Try　to　think　of　your　darling　baby。”
　Indignation　at　being　misunderstood　mingled　with　Scarlett’s　forlorn　feeling　of　being　out　of　everything　and　strangled　all　utterance。　That　was　fortunate；　for　if　she　could　have　spoken　she　would　have　cried　out　truths　coached　in　Gerald’s　forthright　words。　Melanie　patted　her　shoulder　and　Pittypat　tiptoed　heavily　about　the　room　pulling　down　the　shades。
　“Don’t　do　that！”　shouted　Scarlett；　raising　a　red　and　swollen　face　from　the　pillow。　I’m　not　dead　enough　for　you　to　pull　down　the　shades—though　I　might　as　well　be。　Oh；　do　go　away　and　leave　me　alone！”
　She　sank　her　face　into　the　pillow　again　and；　after　a　whispered　conference；　the　two　standing　over　her　tiptoed　out。　She　heard　Melanie　say　to　Pittypat　in　a　low　voice　as　they　went　down　the　stairs：
　“Aunt　Pitty；　I　wish　you　wouldn’t　speak　of　Charles　to　her。　You　know　how　it　always　affects　her。　Poor　thing；　she　gets　that　queer　look　and　I　know　she’s　trying　not　to　cry。　We　mustn’t　make　it　harder　for　her。”
　Scarlett　kicked　the　coverlet　in　impotent　rage；　trying　to　think　of　something　bad　enough　to　say。
　“God’s　nightgown！”　she　cried　at　last；　and　felt　somewhat　relieved。　How　could　Melanie　be　content　to　stay　at　home　and　never　have　any　fun　and　wear　crêpe　for　her　brother　when　she　was　only　eighteen　years　old？　Melanie　did　not　seem　to　know；　or　care；　that　life　was　riding　by　with　jingling　spurs。
　“But　she’s　such　a　stick；”　thought　Scarlett；　pounding　the　pillow。　“And　she　never　was　popular　like　me；　so　she　doesn’t　miss　the　things　I　miss。　And—and　besides　she’s　got　Ashley　and　I—I　haven’t　got　anybody！”　And　at　this　fresh　woe；　she　broke　into　renewed　outcries。
　She　remained　gloomily　in　her　room　until　afternoon　and　then　the　sight　of　the　returning　picnickers　with　wagons　piled　high　with　pine　boughs；　vines　and　ferns　did　not　cheer　her。　Everyone　looked　‘happily　tired　as　they　waved　to　her　again　and　she　returned　their　greetings　drearily。　Life　was　a　hopeless　affair　and　certainly　not　worth　living。
　Deliverance　came　in　the　form　she　least　expected　when；　during　the　after…dinner…nap　period；　Mrs。　Merriwether　and　Mrs。　Elsing　drove　up。　Startled　at　having　callers　at　such　an　hour；　Melanie；　Scarlett　and　Aunt　Pittypat　roused　themselves；　hastily　hooked　their　basques；　smoothed　their　hair　and　descended　to　the　parlor。
　“Mrs。　Bonnell’s　children　have　the　measles；”　said　Mrs。　Merriwether　abruptly；　showing　plainly　that　she　held　Mrs。　Bonnell　personally　responsible　for　permitting　such　a　thing　to　happen。
　“And　the　McLure　girls　have　been　called　to　Virginia；”　said　Mrs。　Elsing　in　her　die…away　voice；　fanning　herself　languidly　as　if　neither　this　nor　anything　else　mattered　very　much。　“Dallas　McLure　is　wounded。”
　“How　dreadful！　chorused　their　hostesses。　“Is　poor　Dallas—”
　“No。　Just　through　the　shoulder；”　said　Mrs。　Merriwether　briskly。　“But　it　couldn’t　possibly　have　happened　at　a　worse　time。　The　girls　are　going　North　to　bring　him　home。　But；　skies　above；　we　haven’t　time　to　sit　here　talking。　We　must　hurry　back　to　the　Armory　and　get　the　decorating　done。　Pitty；　we　need　you　and　Melly　tonight　to　take　Mrs。　Bonnell’s　and　the　McLure　girls’　places。”
　“Oh；　but；　Dolly；　we　can’t　go。”
　“Don’t　say　‘can’t’　to　me；　Pittypat　Hamilton；”　said　Mrs。　Merriwether　vigorously。　“We　need　you　to　watch　the　darkies　with　the　refreshments。　That　was　what　Mrs。　Bonnell　was　to　do。　And　Melly；　you　must　take　the　McLure　girls’　booth。”
　“Oh；　we　just　couldn’t—with　poor　Charlie　dead　only　a—”
　“I　know　how　you　feel　but　there　isn’t　any　sacrifice　too　great　for　the　Cause；”　broke　in　Mrs。　Elsing　in　a　soft　voice　that　settled　matters。
　“Oh；　we’d　love　to　help　but—why　can’t　you　get　some　sweet　pretty　girls　to　take　the　booths？”
　Mrs。　Merriwether　snorted　a　trumpeting　snort。
　“I　don’t　know　what’s　come　over　the　young　people　these　days。　They　have　no　sense　of　responsibility。　All　the　girls　who　haven’t　already　taken　booths　have　more　excuses　than　you　could　shake　a　stick　at。　Oh；　they　don’t　fool　me！　They　just　don’t　want　to　be　hampered　in　making　up　to　the　officers；　that’s　all。　And　they’re　afraid　their　new　dresses　won’t　show　off　behind　booth　counters。　I　wish　to　goodness　that　blockade　runner—what’s　his　name？”
　“Captain　Butler；”　supplied　Mrs。　Elsing。
　“I　wish　he’d　bring　in　more　hospital　supplies　and　less　hoop　skirts　and　lace。　If　I’ve　had　to　look　at　one　dress　today　I’ve　had　to　look　at　twenty　dresses　that　he　ran　in。　Captain　Butler—I’m　sick　of　the　name。　Now；　Pitty；　I　haven’t　time　to　argue。　You　must　come。　Everybody　will　understand。　Nobody　will　see　you　in　the　back　room　anyway；　and　Melly　won’t　be　conspicuous。　The　poor　McLure　girls’　booth　is　way　down　at　the　end　and　not　very　pretty　so　nobody　will　notice　you。”
　“I　think　we　should　go；”　said　Scarlett；　trying　to　curb　her　eagerness　and　to　keep　her　face　earnest　and　simple。　“It　is　the　least　we　can　do　for　the　hospital。”
　Neither　of　the　visiting　ladies　had　even　mentioned　her　name；　and　they　turned　and　looked　sharply　at　her。　Even　in　their　extremity；　they　had　not　considered　asking　a　widow　of　scarcely　a　year　to　appear　at　a　social　function。　Scarlett　bore　their　gaze　with　a　wide…eyed　childlike　expression。
　“I　think　we　should　go　and　help　to　make　it　a　success；　all　of　us。　I　think　I　should　go　in　the　booth　with　Melly　because—well；　I　think　it　would　look　better　for　us　both　to　be　there　instead　of　just　one。　Don’t　you　think　so；　Melly？”
　“Well；”　began　Melly　helplessly。　The　idea　of　appearing　publicly　at　a　social　gathering　while　in　mourning　was　so　unheard　of　she　was　bewildered。
　“Scarlett’s　right；”　said　Mrs。　Merriwether；　observing　signs　of　weakening。　She　rose　and　jerked　her　hoops　into　place。　“Both　of　you—all　of　you　must　come。　Now；　Pitty；　don’t　start　your　excuses　again。　Just　think　how　much　the　hospital　needs　money　for　new　beds　and　drugs。　And　I　know　Charlie　would　like　you　to　help　the　Cause　he　died　for。”
　“Well；”　said　Pittypat；　helpless　as　always　in　the　presence　of　a　stronger　personality；　“if　you　think　people　will　understand。”
　
　“Too　good　to　be　true！　Too　good　to　be　true！”　said　Scarlett’s　joyful　heart　as　she　slipped　unobtrusively　into　the　pink…　and　yellow…draped　booth　that　was　to　have　been　the　McLure　girls’。　Actually　she　was　at　a　party！　After　a　year’s　seclusion；　after　crêpe　and　hushed　voices　and　nearly　going　crazy　with　boredom；　she　was　actually　at　a　party；　the　biggest　party　Atlanta　had　ever　seen。　And　she　could　see　people　and　many　lights　and　hear　music　and　view　for　herself　the　lovely　laces　and　frocks　and　frills　that　the　famous　Captain　Butler　had　run　through　the　blockade　on　his　last　trip。
　She　sank　down　on　one　of　the　little　stools　behind　the　counter　of　the　booth　and　looked　up　and　down　the　long　hall　which；　until　this　afternoon；　had　been　a　bare　and　ugly　drill　room。　How　the　ladies　must　have　worked　today　to　bring　it　to　its　present　beauty。　It　looked　lovely。　Every　candle　and　candlestick　in　Atlanta　must　be　in　this　hall　tonight；　she　thought；　silver　ones　with　a　dozen　sprangling　arms；　china　ones　with　charming　figurines　clustering　their　bases；　old　brass　stands；　erect　and　dignified；　laden　with　candles　of　all　sizes　and　colors；　smelling　fragrantly　of　bayberries；　standing　on　the　gun　racks　that　ran　the　length　of　the　hall；　on　the　long　flower…decked　tables；　on　booth　counters；　even　on　the　sills　of　the　open　windows　where；　the　draughts　of　warm　summer　air　were　just　strong　enough　to　make　them　flare。
　In　the　center　of　the　hall　the　huge　ugly　lamp；　hanging　from　the　ceiling　by　rusty　chains；　was　completely　transformed　by　twining　ivy　and　wild　grapevines　that　were　already　withering　from　the　heat。　The　walls　were　banked　with　pine　branches　that　gave　out　a　spicy　smell；　making　the　corners　of　the　room　into　pretty　bowers　where　the　chaperons　and　old　ladies　would　sit。　Long　graceful　ropes　of　ivy　and　grapevine　and　smilax　were　hung　everywhere；　in　looping　festoons　on　the　walls；　draped　above　the　windows；　twined　in　scallops　all　over　the　brightly　colored　cheesecloth　booths。　And　everywhere　amid　the　greenery；　on　flags　and　bunting；　blazed　the　bright　stars　of　the　Confederacy　on　their　background　of　red　and　blue。
　The　raised　platform　for　the　musicians　was　especially　artistic。　It　was　completely　hidden　from　view　by　the　banked　greenery　and　starry　bunting　and　Scarlett　knew　that　every　potted　and　tubbed　plant　in　town　was　there；　coleus；　geranium；　hydrangea；　oleander；　elephant　ear—even　Mrs。　Elsing’s　four　treasured　rubber　plants；　which　were　given　posts　of　honor　at　the　four　corners。
　At　the　other　end　of　the　hall　from　the　platform；　the　ladies　had　eclipsed　themselves。　On　this　wall　hung　large　pictures　of　President　Davis　and　Georgia’s　own　“Little　Alec”　Stephens；　Vice…President　of　the　Confederacy。　Above　them　was　an　enormous　flag　and；　beneath；　on　long　tables　was　the　loot　of　the　gardens　of　the　town；　ferns；　banks　of　roses；　crimson　and　yellow　and　white；　proud　sheaths　of　golden　gladioli；　masses　of　varicolored　nasturtiums；　tall　stiff　hollyhocks　rearing　deep　maroon　and　creamy　heads　above　the　other　flowers。　Among　them；　candles　burned　serenely　like　altar　fires。　The　two　faces　looked　down　on　the　scene；　two　faces　as　different　as　could　be　possible　in　two　men　at　the　helm　of　so　momentous　an　undertaking：　Davis　with　the　flat　cheeks　and　cold　eyes　of　an　ascetic；　his　thin　proud　lips　set　firmly；　Stephens　with　dark　burning　eyes　deep　socketed　in　a　face　that　had　known　nothing　but　sickness　and　pain　and　had　triumphed　over　them　with　humor　and　with　fire—two　faces　that　were　greatly　loved。
　The　elderly　ladies　of　the　committee　in　whose　hands　rested　the　responsibility　for　the　whole　bazaar　rustled　in　as　importantly　as　full…rigged　ships；　hurried　the　belated　young　matrons　and　giggling　girls　into　their　booths；　and　then　swept　through　the　doors　into　the　back　rooms　where　the　refreshments　were　being　laid　out。　Aunt　Pitty　panted　out　after　them。
　The　musicians　clambered　upon　their　platform；　black；　grinning；　their　fat　cheeks　already　shining　with　perspiration；　and　began　tuning　their　fiddles　and　sawing　and　whanging　with　their　bows　in　anticipatory　importance。　Old　Levi；　Mrs。　Merriwether’s　coachman；　who　had　led　the　orchestras　for　every　bazaar；　ball　and　wedding　since　Atlanta　was　named　Marthasville；　rapped　with　his　bow　for　attention。　Few　except　the　ladies　who　were　conducting　the　bazaar　had　arrived　yet；　but　all　eyes　turned　toward　him。　Then　the　fiddles；　bull　fiddles；　accordions；　banjos　and　knuckle…bones　broke　into　a　slow　rendition　of　“Lorena”—too　slow　for　dancing；　the　dancing　would　come　later　when　the　booths　were　emptied　of　their　wares。　Scarlett　felt　her　heart　beat　faster　as　the　sweet　melancholy　of　the　waltz　came　to　her：
　
　“The　years　creep　slowly　by；　Lorena！
　The　snow　is　on　the　grass　again。
　The　sun’s　far　down　the　sky；　Lorena　。。。”
　
　One…two…three；　one…two…three；　dip…sway—three；　turn—　two…three。　What　a　beautiful　waltz！　She　extended　her　hands　slightly；　closed　her　eyes　and　swayed　with　the　sad　haunting　rhyth