飘-第74章

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　“The　pains　are　getting　hard。　Please；　Doctor！”
　“A　baby？　Great　God！”　thundered　the　doctor　and　his　face　was　suddenly　contorted　with　hate　and　rage；　a　rage　not　directed　at　her　or　at　anyone　except　a　world　wherein　such　things　could　happen。　“Are　you　crazy？　I　can’t　leave　these　men。　They　are　dying；　hundreds　of　them。　I　can’t　leave　them　for　a　damned　baby。　Get　some　woman　to　help　you。　Get　my　wife。”
　She　opened　her　mouth　to　ten　him　why　Mrs。　Meade　could　not　come　and　then　shut　it　abruptly。　He　did　not　know　his　own　son　was　wounded！　She　wondered　if　he　would　still　be　here　if　he　did　know；　and　something　told　her　that　even　if　Phil　were　dying　he　would　still　be　standing　on　this　spot；　giving　aid　to　the　many　instead　of　the　one。
　“No；　you　must　come；　Doctor。　You　know　you　said　she’d　have　a　hard　time—”　Was　it　really　she；　Scarlett；　standing　here　saying　these　dreadful　indelicate　things　at　the　top　of　her　voice　in　this　hell　of　heat　and　groans？　“She’ll　die　if　you　don’t　come！”
　He　shook　off　her　hand　roughly　and　spoke　as　though　he　hardly　heard　her；　hardly　knew　what　she　said。
　“Die？　Yes；　they’ll　all　die—all　these　men。　No　bandages；　no　salves；　no　quinine；　no　chloroform。　Oh；　God；　for　some　morphia！　Just　a　little　morphia　for　the　worst　ones。　Just　a　little　chloroform。　God　damn　the　Yankees！　God　damn　the　Yankees！”
　“Give　um　hell；　Doctor！”　said　the　man　on　the　ground；　his　teeth　showing　in　his　beard。
　Scarlett　began　to　shake　and　her　eyes　burned　with　tears　of　fright。　The　doctor　wasn’t　coming　with　her。　Melanie　would　die　and　she　had　wished　that　she　would　die。　The　doctor　wasn’t　coming。
　“Name　of　God；　Doctor！　Please！”
　Dr。　Meade　bit　his　lip　and　his　jaw　hardened　as　his　face　went　cool　again。
　“Child；　I’ll　try。　I　can’t　promise　you。　But　I’ll　try。　When　we　get　these　men　tended　to。　The　Yankees　are　coming　and　the　troops　are　moving　out　of　town。　I　don’t　know　what　they’ll　do　with　the　wounded。　There　aren’t　any　trains。　The　Macon　line　has　been　captured。　。。。　But　I’ll　try。　Run　along　now。　Don’t　bother　me。　There’s　nothing　much　to　bringing　a　baby。　Just　tie　up　the　cord。　…”
　He　turned　as　an　orderly　touched　his　arm　and　began　firing　directions　and　pointing　to　this　and　that　wounded　man。　The　man　at　her　feet　looked　up　at　Scarlett　compassionately。　She　turned　away；　for　the　doctor　had　forgotten　her。
　She　picked　her　way　rapidly　through　the　wounded　and　back　to　Peachtree　Street。　The　doctor　wasn’t　coming。　She　would　have　to　see　it　through　herself。　Thank　God；　Prissy　knew　all　about　midwifery。　Her　head　ached　from　the　heat　and　she　could　feel　her　basque；　soaking　wet　from　perspiration；　sticking　to　her。　Her　mind　felt　numb　and　so　did　her　legs；　numb　as　in　a　nightmare　when　she　tried　to　run　and　could　not　move　them。　She　thought　of　the　long　walk　back　to　the　house　and　it　seemed　interminable。
　Then；　“The　Yankees　are　coming！”　began　to　beat　its　refrain　in　her　mind　again。　Her　heart　began　to　pound　and　new　life　came　into　her　limbs。　She　hurried　into　the　crowd　at　Five　Points；　now　so　thick　there　was　no　room　on　the　narrow　sidewalks　and　she　was　forced　to　walk　in　the　street。　Long　lines　of　soldiers　were　passing；　dust　covered；　sodden　with　weariness。　There　seemed　thousands　of　them；　bearded；　dirty；　their　guns　slung　over　their　shoulders；　swiftly　passing　at　route　step。　Cannon　rolled　past；　the　drivers　flaying　the　thin　mules　with　lengths　of　rawhide。　Commissary　wagons　with　torn　canvas　covers　rocked　through　the　ruts。　Cavalry　raising　clouds　of　choking　dust　went　past　endlessly。　She　had　never　seen　so　many　soldiers　together　before。　Retreat！　Retreat！　The　army　was　moving　out。
　The　hurrying　lines　pushed　her　back　onto　the　packed　sidewalk　and　she　smelled　the　reek　of　cheap　corn　whisky。　There　were　women　in　the　mob　near　Decatur　Street；　garishly　dressed　women　whose　bright　finery　and　painted　faces　gave　a　discordant　note　of　holiday。　Most　of　them　were　drunk　and　the　soldiers　on　whose　arms　they　hung　were　drunker。　She　caught　a　fleeting　glimpse　of　a　head　of　red　curls　and　saw　that　creature；　Belle　Watling；　heard　her　shrill　drunken　laughter　as　she　clung　for　support　to　a　one…armed　soldier　who　reeled　and　staggered。
　When　she　had　shoved　and　pushed　her　way　through　the　mob　for　a　block　beyond　Five　Points　the　crowd　thinned　a　little　and；　gathering　up　her　skirts；　she　began　to　run　again。　When　she　reached　Wesley　Chapel；　she　was　breathless　and　dizzy　and　sick　at　her　stomach。　Her　stays　were　cutting　her　ribs　in　two。　She　sank　down　on　the　steps　of　the　church　and　buried　her　head　in　her　hands　until　she　could　breathe　more　easily。　If　she　could　only　get　one　deep　breath；　way　down　in　her　abdomen。　If　her　heart　would　only　stop　bumping　and　drumming　and　cavorting。　If　there　were　only　someone　in　this　mad　place　to　whom　she　could　turn。
　Why；　she　had　never　had　to　do　a　thing　for　herself　in　all　her　life。　There　had　always　been　someone　to　do　things　for　her；　to　look　after　her；　shelter　and　protect　her　and　spoil　her。　It　was　incredible　that　she　could　be　in　such　a　fix。　Not　a　friend；　not　a　neighbor　to　help　her。　There　had　always　been　friends；　neighbors；　the　competent　hands　of　willing　slaves。　And　now　in　this　hour　of　greatest　need；　there　was　no　one。　It　was　incredible　that　she　could　be　so　completely　alone；　and　frightened；　and　far　from　home。
　Home！　If　she　were　only　home；　Yankees　or　no　Yankees。　Home；　even　if　Ellen　was　sick。　She　longed　for　the　sight　of　Ellen’s　sweet　face；　for　Mammy’s　strong　arms　around　her。
　She　rose　dizzily　to　her　feet　and　started　walking　again。　When　she　came　in　sight　of　the　house；　she　saw　Wade　swinging　on　the　front　gate。　When　he　saw　her；　his　face　puckered　and　he　began　to　cry；　holding　up　a　grubby　bruised　finger。
　“Hurt！”　he　sobbed。　“Hurt！”
　“Hush！　Hush！　Hush！　Or　I’ll　spank　you。　Go　out　in　the　back　yard　and　make　mud　pies　and　don’t　move　from　there。”
　“Wade　hungwy；”　he　sobbed　and　put　tin　hurt　finger　in　his　mouth。
　“I　don’t　care。　Go　in　the　back　yard　and—”　She　looked　up　and　saw　Prissy　leaning　out　of　the　upstairs　window；　fright　and　worry　written　on　her　face；　but　in　an　instant　they　were　wiped　away　in　relief　as　she　saw　her　mistress。　Scarlett　beckoned　to　her　to　come　down　and　went　into　the　house。　How　cool　it　was　in　the　hall。　She　untied　her　bonnet　and　flung　it　on　the　table；　drawing　her　forearms　across　her　wet　forehead。　She　heard　the　upstairs　door　open　and　a　low　wailing　moan；　wrenched　from　the　depths　of　agony；　came　to　her　ears。　Prissy　came　down　the　stairs　three　at　a　time。
　“Is　de　doctah　come？”
　“No。　He　can’t　come。”
　“Gawd；　Miss　Scarlett！　Miss　Melly　bad　off！”
　“The　doctor　can’t　come。　Nobody　can　come。　You’ve　got　to　bring　the　baby　and　I’ll　help　you。”
　Prissy’s　mouth　fell　open　and　her　tongue　wagged　wordlessly。　She　looked　at　Scarlett　sideways　and　scuffed　her　feet　and　twisted　her　thin　body。
　“Don’t　look　so　simple　minded！”　cried　Scarlett；　infuriated　at　her　silly　expression。　“What’s　the　matter？”
　Prissy　edged　back　up　the　stairs。
　“Fo’　Gawd；　Miss　Scarlett—”　Fright　and　shame　were　in　her　rolling　eyes。
　“Well？”
　“Fo’　Gawd；　Miss　Scarlett！　We’s　got　ter　have　a　doctah。　Ah—Ah—Miss　Scarlett；　Ah　doan　know　nuthin’　‘bout　bringin’　babies。　Maw　wouldn’　nebber　lemme　be　‘round　folkses　whut　wuz　havin’　dem。”
　All　the　breath　went　out　of　Scarlett’s　lungs　in　one　gasp　of　horror　before　rage　swept　her。　Prissy　made　a　lunge　past　her；　bent　on　flight；　but　Scarlett　grabbed　her。
　“You　black　liar—what　do　you　mean？　You’ve　been　saying　you　knew　everything　about　birthing　babies。　What　is　the　truth？　Tell　me！”　She　shook　her　until　the　kinky　head　rocked　drunkenly。
　“Ah’s　lyin’；　Miss　Scarlett！　Ah　doan　know　huccome　Ah　tell　sech　a　lie。　Ah　jes’　see　one　baby　birthed；　an’　Maw　she　lak　ter　wo’　me　out　fer　watchin’。”
　Scarlett　glared　at　her　and　Prissy　shrank　back；　trying　to　pull　loose。　For　a　moment　her　mind　refused　to　accept　the　truth；　but　when　realization　finally　came　to　her　that　Prissy　knew　no　more　about　midwifery　than　she　did；　anger　went　over　her　like　a　flame。　She　had　never　struck　a　slave　in　all　her　life；　but　now　she　slapped　the　black　cheek　with　all　the　force　in　her　tired　arm。　Prissy　screamed　at　the　top　of　her　voice；　more　from　fright　than　pain；　and　began　to　dance　up　and　down；　writhing　to　break　Scarlett’s　grip。
　As　she　screamed；　the　moaning　from　the　second　floor　ceased　and　a　moment　later　Melanie’s　voice；　weak　and　trembling；　called：　“Scarlett？　Is　it　you？　Please　come！　Please！”
　Scarlett　dropped　Prissy’s　arm　and　the　wench　sank　whimpering　to　the　steps。　For　a　moment　Scarlett　stood　still；　looking　up；　listening　to　the　low　moaning　which　had　begun　again。　As　she　stood　there；　it　seemed　as　though　a　yoke　descended　heavily　upon　her　neck；　felt　as　though　a　heavy　load　were　harnessed　to　it；　a　load　she　would　feel　as　soon　as　she　took　a　step。
　She　tried　to　think　of　all　the　things　Mammy　and　Ellen　had　done　for　her　when　Wade　was　born　but　the　merciful　blurring　of　the　childbirth　pains　obscured　almost　everything　in　mist。　She　did　recall　a　few　things　and　she　spoke　to　Prissy　rapidly；　authority　in　her　voice。
　“Build　a　fire　in　the　stove　and　keep　hot　water　boiling　in　the　kettle。　And　bring　up　all　the　towels　you　can　find　and　that　ball　of　twine。　And　get　me　the　scissors。　Don’t　come　telling　me　you　can’t　find　them。　Get　them　and　get　them　quick。　Now　hurry。”
　She　jerked　Prissy　to　her　feet　and　sent　her　kitchenwards　with　a　shove。　Then　she　squared　her　shoulders　and　started　up　the　stairs。　It　was　going　to　be　difficult；　telling　Melanie　that　she　and　Prissy　were　to　deliver　her　baby。
　
　CHAPTER　XXII
　THERE　WOULD　NEVER　AGAIN　BE　an　afternoon　as　long　as　this　one。　Or　as　hot。　Or　as　full　of　lazy　insolent　flies。　They　swarmed　on　Melanie　despite　the　fan　Scarlett　kept　in　constant　motion。　Her　arms　ached　from　swinging　the　wide　palmetto　leaf。　All　her　efforts　seemed　futile；　for　while　she　brushed　them　from　Melanie’s　moist　face；　they　crawled　on　her　clammy　feet　and　legs　and　made　her　jerk　them　weakly　and　cry：　“Please！　On　my　feet！”
　The　room　was　in　semigloom；　for　Scarlett　had　pulled　down　the　shades　to　shut　out　the　heat　and　brightness。　Pin　points　of　sunlight　came　in　through　minute　holes　in　the　shades　and　about　the　edges。　The　room　was　an　oven　and　Scarlett’s　sweat…drenched　clothes　never　dried　but　became　wetter　and　stickier　as　the　hours　went　by。　Prissy　was　crouched　in　a　corner；　sweating　too；　and　smelled　so　abominably　Scarlett　would　have　sent　her　from　the　room　had　she　not　feared　the　girl　would　take　to　her　heels　if　once　out　of　sight　Melanie　lay　on　the　bed　on　a　sheet　dark　with　perspiration　and　splotched　with　dampness　where　Scarlett　had　spilled　water。　She　twisted　endlessly；　to　one　side；　to　the　other；　to　left；　to　right　and　back　again。
　Sometimes　she　tried　to　sit　up　and　fell　back　and　began　twisting　again。　At　first；　she　had　tried　to　keep　from　crying　out；　biting　her　lips　until　they　were　raw；　and　Scarlett；　whose　nerves　were　as　raw　as　the　lips；　said　huskily：　“Melly；　for　God’s　sake；　don’t　try　to　be　brave。　Yell　if　you　want　to。　There’s　nobody　to　hear　you　but　us。”
　As　the　afternoon　wore　on；　Melanie　moaned　whether　she　wanted　to　be　brave　or　not；　and　sometimes　she　screamed。　When　she　did；　Scarlett　dropped　her　head　into　her　hands　and　covered　her　ears　and　twisted　her　body　and　wished　that　she　herself　were　dead。　Anything　was　preferable　to　being　a　helpless　witness　to　such　pain。　Anything　was　better　than　being　tied　here　waiting　for　a　baby　that　took　such　a　long　time　coming。