飘-第97章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
her legs would no longer support her。 But tonight she； like Suellen and Carreen； was doing everything possible to make the soldiers enjoy their Christmas Eve。 Scarlett alone took no pleasure in the guests。
The troop had added their ration of parched corn and side meat to the supper of dried peas； stewed dried apples and peanuts which Mammy set before them and they declared it was the best meal they had had in months。 Scarlett watched them eat and she was uneasy。 She not only begrudged them every mouthful they ate but she was on tenterhooks lest they discover somehow that Pork had slaughtered one of the shoats the day before。 It now hung in the pantry and she had grimly promised her household that she would scratch out the eyes of anyone who mentioned the shoat to their guests or the presence of the dead pig’s sisters and brothers； safe in their pen in the swamp。 These hungry men could devour the whole shoat at one meal and； if they knew of the live hogs； they could commandeer them for the army。 She was alarmed； too； for the cow and the horse and wished they were hidden in the swamp； instead of tied in the woods at the bottom of the pasture。 If the commissary took her stock； Tara could not possibly live through the winter。 There would be no way of replacing them。 As to what this army would eat； she did not care。 Let the army feed the army—if it could。 It was hard enough for her to feed her own。
The men added as dessert some “ramrod rolls” from their knapsacks； and this was the first time Scarlett had ever seen this Confederate article of diet about which there were almost as many jokes as about lice。 They were charred spirals of what appeared to be wood。 The men dared her to take a bite and； when she did； she discovered that beneath the smoke…blackened surface was unsalted corn bread。 The soldiers mixed their ration of corn meal with water； and salt too when they could get it； wrapped the thick paste about their ramrods and roasted the mess over camp fires。 It was as hard as rock candy and as tasteless as sawdust and after one bite Scarlett hastily handed it back amid roars of laughter。 She met Melanie’s eyes and the same thought was plain in both faces。 。。。 “How can they go on fighting if they have only this stuff to eat？”
The meal was gay enough and even Gerald； presiding absently at the head of the table； managed to evoke from the back of his dim mind some of the manner of a host and an uncertain smile。 The men talked； the women smiled and flattered—but Scarlett turning suddenly to Frank Kennedy to ask him news of Miss Pittypat； caught an expression on his face which made her forget what she intended to say。
His eyes had left Suellen’s and were wandering about the room； to Gerald’s childlike puzzled eyes； to the floor； bare of rugs； to the mantelpiece denuded of its ornaments； the sagging springs and torn upholstery into which Yankee bayonets had ripped； the cracked mirror above the sideboard； the unfaded squares on the wall where pictures had hung before the looters came； the scant table service； the decently mended but old dresses of the girls； the flour sack which had been made into a kilt for Wade。
Frank was remembering the Tara he had known before the war and on his face was a hurt look； a look of tired impotent anger。 He loved Suellen； liked her sisters； respected Gerald and had a genuine fondness for the plantation。 Since Sherman had swept through Georgia； Frank had seen many appalling sights as he rode about the state trying to collect supplies； but nothing had gone to his heart as Tara did now。 He wanted to do something for the O’Haras； especially Suellen； and there was nothing he could do。 He was unconsciously wagging his whiskered head in pity and clicking his tongue against his teeth when Scarlett caught his eye。 He saw the flame of indignant pride in them and he dropped his gaze quickly to his plate in embarrassment。
The girls were hungry for news。 There had been no mail service since Atlanta fell； now four months past； and they were in complete ignorance as to where the Yankees were； how the Confederate Army was faring； what had happened to Atlanta and to old friends。 Frank； whose work took him all over the section； was as good as a newspaper； better even； for he was kin to or knew almost everyone from Macon north to Atlanta； and he could supply bits of interesting personal gossip which the papers always omitted。 To cover his embarrassment at being caught by Scarlett； he plunged hastily into a recital of news。 The Confederates； he told them； had retaken Atlanta after Sherman marched out； but it was a valueless prize as Sherman had burned it completely。
“But I thought Atlanta burned the night I left；” cried Scarlett； bewildered。 “I thought our boys burned it！”
“Oh； no； Miss Scarlett！” cried Frank； shocked。 “We’d never burn one of our own towns with our own folks in it！ What you saw burning was the warehouses and the supplies we didn’t want the Yankees to capture and the foundries and the ammunition。 But that was all。 When Sherman took the town the houses and stores were standing there as pretty as you please。 And he quartered his men in them。”
“But what happened to the people？ Did he—did he kill them？”
“He killed some—but not with bullets；” said the one…eyed soldier grimly。 “Soon’s he marched into Atlanta he told the mayor that all the people in town would have to move out； every living soul。 And there were plenty of old folks that couldn’t stand the trip and sick folks that ought not to have been moved and ladies who were—well； ladies who hadn’t ought to be moved either。 And he moved them out in the biggest rainstorm you ever saw； hundreds and hundreds of them； and dumped them in the woods near Rough and Ready and sent word to General Hood to come and get them。 And a plenty of the folks died of pneumonia and not being able to stand that sort of treatment。”
“Oh； but why did he do that？ They couldn’t have done him any harm；” cried Melanie。
“He said he wanted the town to rest his men and horses in；” said Frank。 “And he rested them there till the middle of November and then he lit out。 And he set fire to the whole town when he left and burned everything。”
“Oh； surely not everything！” cried the girls in dismay。
It was inconceivable that the bustling town they knew； so full of people； so crowded with soldiers； was gone。 All the lovely homes beneath shady trees； all the big stores and the fine hotels—surely they couldn’t be gone！ Melanie seemed ready to burst into tears； for she had been born there and knew no other home。 Scarlett’s heart sank because she had come to love the place second only to Tara。
“Well； almost everything；” Frank amended hastily； disturbed by the expressions on their faces。 He tried to look cheerful； for he did not believe in upsetting ladies。 Upset ladies always upset him and made him feel helpless。 He could not bring himself to tell them the worst。 Let them find out from some one else。
He could not tell them what the army saw when it marched back into Atlanta； the acres and acres of chimneys standing blackly above ashes； piles of half…burned rubbish and tumbled heaps of brick clogging the streets； old trees dying from fire； their charred limbs tumbling to the ground in the cold wind。 He remembered how the sight had turned him sick； remembered the bitter curses of the Confederates when they saw the remains of the town。 He hoped the ladies would never hear of the horrors of the looted cemetery； for they’d never get over that。 Charlie Hamilton and Melanie’s mother and father were buried there。 The sight of that cemetery still gave Frank nightmares。 Hoping to find jewelry buried with the dead； the Yankee soldiers had broken open vaults； dug up graves。 They had robbed the bodies； stripped from the coffins gold and silver name plates； silver trimmings and silver handles。 The skeletons and corpses； flung helter…skelter among their splintered caskets； lay exposed and so pitiful。
And Frank couldn’t tell them about the dogs and the cats。 Ladies set such a store by pets。 But the thousands of starving animals； left homeless when their masters had been so rudely evacuated； had shocked him almost as much as the cemetery； for Frank loved cats and dogs。 The animals had been frightened； cold； ravenous； wild as forest creatures； the strong attacking the weak； the weak waiting for the weaker to die so they could eat them。 And； above the ruined town； the buzzards splotched the wintry sky with graceful； sinister bodies。
Frank cast about in his mind for some mitigating information that would make the ladies feel better。
“There’s some houses still standing；” he said； “houses that set on big lots away from other houses and didn’t catch fire。 And the churches and the Masonic hall are left And a few stores too。 But the business section and all along the railroad tracks and at Five Points—well； ladies； that part of town is flat on the ground。”
“Then；” cried Scarlett…bitterly； “that warehouse Charlie left me； down on the tracks； it’s gone too？”
“If it was near the tracks； it’s gone； but—” Suddenly he smiled。 Why hadn’t he thought of it before？ “Cheer up； ladies！ Your Aunt Pitty’s house is still standing。 It’s kind of damaged but there it is。”
“Oh； how did it escape？”
“Well； it’s made of brick and it’s got about the only slate roof in Atlanta and that kept the sparks from setting it afire； I guess。 And then it’s about the last house on the north end of town and the fire wasn’t so bad over that way。 Of course； the Yankees quartered there tore it up aplenty。 They even burned the baseboard and the mahogany stair rail for firewood； but shucks！ It’s in good shape。 When I saw Miss Pitty last week in Macon—”
“You saw her？ How is she？”
“Just fine。 Just fine。 When I told her her house was still standing； she made up her mind to come home right away。 That is—if that old darky； Peter； will let her come。 Lots of the Atlanta people have already come back； because they got nervous about Macon。 Sherman didn’t take Macon but everybody is afraid Wilson’s raiders will get there soon and he’s worse than Sherman。”
“But how silly of them to come back if there aren’t any houses！ Where do they live？”
“Miss Scarlett； they’re living in tents and shacks and log cabins and doubling up six and seven families in the few houses still standing。 And they’re trying to rebuild。 Now； Miss Scarlett； don’t say they are silly。 You know Atlanta folks as well as I do。 They are plumb set on that town； most as bad as Charlestonians are about Charleston； and it’ll take more than Yankees and a burning to keep them away。 Atlanta folks are—begging your pardon； Miss Melly—as stubborn as mules about Atlanta。 I don’t know why； for I always thought that town a mighty pushy； impudent sort of place。 But then； I’m a countryman born and I don’t like any town。 And let me tell you； the ones who are getting back first are the smart ones。 The ones who come back last won’t find a stick or stone or brick of their houses； because everybody’s out salvaging things all over town to rebuild their houses。 Just day before yesterday； I saw Mrs。 Merriwether and Miss Maybelle and their old darky woman out collecting brick in a wh
