飘

　“My　husband　is　in　Virginia；”　said　Melly　with　a　proud　lift　of　her　head。　“But　Charles—”　Her　voice　broke。
　“He　died　in　camp；”　said　Scarlett　flatly。　She　almost　snapped　the　words。　Would　this　creature　never　go　away？　Melly　looked　at　her；　startled；　and　the　Captain　made　a　gesture　of　self…reproach。
　“My　dear　ladies—how　could　I！　You　must　forgive　me。　But　permit　a　stranger　to　offer　the　comfort　of　saying　that　to　die　for　one’s　country　is　to　live　forever。”
　Melanie　smiled　at　him　through　sparkling　tears　while　Scarlett　felt　the　fox　of　wrath　and　impotent　hate　gnaw　at　her　vitals。　Again　he　had　made　a　graceful　remark；　the　kind　of　compliment　any　gentleman　would　pay　under　such　circumstances；　but　he　did　not　mean　a　word　of　it。　He　was　jeering　at　her。　He　knew　she　hadn’t　loved　Charles。　And　Melly　was　just　a　big　enough　fool　not　to　see　through　him。　Oh；　please　God；　don’t　let　anybody　else　see　through　him；　she　thought　with　a　start　of　terror。　Would　he　tell　what　he　knew？　Of　course　he　wasn’t　a　gentleman　and　there　was　no　telling　what　men　would　do　when　they　weren’t　gentlemen。　There　was　no　standard　to　judge　them　by。　She　looked　up　at　him　and　saw　that　his　mouth　was　pulled　down　at　the　corners　in　mock　sympathy；　even　while　he　swished　the　fan。　Something　in　his　look　challenged　her　spirit　and　brought　her　strength　back　in　a　surge　of　dislike。　Abruptly　she　snatched　the　fan　from　his　hand。
　“I’m　quite　all　right；”　she　said　tartly。　“There’s　no　need　to　blow　my　hair　out　of　place。”
　“Scarlett；　darling！　Captain　Butler；　you　must　forgive　her。　She—she　isn’t　herself　when　she　hears　poor　Charlie’s　name　spoken—and　perhaps；　after　all；　we　shouldn’t　have　come　here　tonight。　We’re　still　in　mourning；　you　see；　and　it’s　quite　a　strain　on　her—all　this　gaiety　and　music；　poor　child。”
　“I　quite　understand；”　he　said　with　elaborate　gravity；　but　as　he　turned　and　gave　Melanie　a　searching　look　that　went　to　the　bottom　of　her　sweet　worried　eyes；　his　expression　changed；　reluctant　respect　and　gentleness　coming　over　his　dark　face。　“I　think　you’re　a　courageous　little　lady；　Mrs。　Wilkes。”
　“Not　a　word　about　me！”　thought　Scarlett　indignantly；　as　Melly　smiled　in　confusion　and　answered；
　“Dear　me；　no；　Captain　Butler！　The　hospital　committee　just　had　to　have　us　for　this　booth　because　at　the　last　minute—　A　pillow　case？　Here’s　a　lovely　one　with　a　flag　on　it。”
　She　turned　to　three　cavalrymen　who　appeared　at　her　counter。　For　a　moment；　Melanie　thought　how　nice　Captain　Butler　was。　Then　she　wished　that　something　more　substantial　than　cheesecloth　was　between　her　skirt　and　the　spittoon　that　stood　just　outside　the　booth；　for　the　aim　of　the　horsemen　with　amber　streams　of　tobacco　juice　was　not　so　unerring　as　with　their　long　horse　pistols。　Then　she　forgot　about　the　Captain；　Scarlett　and　the　spittoons　as　more　customers　crowded　to　her。
　Scarlett　sat　quietly　on　the　stool　fanning　herself；　not　daring　to　look　up；　wishing　Captain　Butler　back　on　the　deck　of　his　ship　where　he　belonged。
　“Your　husband　has　been　dead　long？”
　“Oh；　yes；　a　long　time。　Almost　a　year。”
　“An　aeon；　I’m　sure。”
　Scarlett　was　not　sure　what　an　aeon　was；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　the　baiting　quality　of　his　voice；　so　she　said　nothing。
　“Had　you　been　married　long？　Forgive　my　questions　but　I　have　been　away　from　this　section　for　so　long。”
　“Two　months；”　said　Scarlett；　unwillingly。
　“A　tragedy；　no　less；”　his　easy　voice　continued。
　Oh；　damn　him；　she　thought　violently。　If　he　was　any　other　man　in　the　world　I　could　simply　freeze　up　and　order’　him　off。　But　he　knows　about　Ashley　and　he　knows　I　didn’t　love　Charlie。　And　my　hands　are　tied。　She　said　nothing；　still　looking　down　at　her　fan。
　“And　this　is　your　first　social　appearance？”
　“I　know　it　looks　quite　odd；”　she　explained　rapidly。　“But　the　McLure　girls　who　were　to　take　this　booth　were　called　away　and　there　was　no　one　else；　so　Melanie　and　I—”
　“No　sacrifice　is　too　great　for　the　Cause。”
　Why；　that　was　what　Mrs。　Elsing　had　said；　but　when　she　said　it　it　didn’t　sound　the　same　way。　Hot　words　started　to　her　lips　but　she　choked　them　back。　After　all；　she　was　here；　not　for　the　Cause；　but　because　she　was　tired　of　sitting　home。
　“I　have　always　thought；”　he　said　reflectively；　“that　the　system　of　mourning；　of　immuring　women　in　crêpe　for　the　rest　of　their　lives　and　forbidding　them　normal　enjoyment　is　just　as　barbarous　as　the　Hindu　suttee。”
　“Settee？”
　He　laughed　and　she　blushed　for　her　ignorance。　She　hated　people　who　used　words　unknown　to　her。
　“In　India；　when　a　man　dies　he　is　burned；　instead　of　buried；　and　his　wife　always　climbs　on　the　funeral　pyre　and　is　burned　with　him。”
　“How　dreadful！　Why　do　they　do　it？　Don’t　the　police　do　anything　about　it？”
　“Of　course　not。　A　wife　who　didn’t　burn　herself　would　be　a　social　outcast。　All　the　worthy　Hindu　matrons　would　talk　about　her　for　not　behaving　as　a　well…bred　lady　should—precisely　as　those　worthy　matrons　in　the　corner　would　talk　about　you；　should　you　appear　tonight　in　a　red　dress　and　lead　a　reel。　Personally；　I　think　suttee　much　more　merciful　than　our　charming　Southern　custom　of　burying　widows　alive！”
　“How　dare　you　say　I’m　buried　alive！”
　“How　closely　women　clutch　the　very　chains　that　bind　them！　You　think　the　Hindu　custom　barbarous—but　would　you　have　had　the　courage　to　appear　here　tonight　if　the　Confederacy　hadn’t　needed　you？”
　Arguments　of　this　character　were　always　confusing　to　Scarlett。　His　were　doubly　confusing　because　she　had　a　vague　idea　there　was　truth　in　them。　But　now　was　the　time　to　squelch　him。
　“Of　course；　I　wouldn’t　have　come。　It　would　have　been—well；　disrespectful　to—it　would　have　seemed　as　if　I　hadn’t　lov—”
　His　eyes　waited　on　her　words；　cynical　amusement　in　them；　and　she　could　not　go　on。　He　knew　she　hadn’t　loved　Charlie　and　he　wouldn’t　let　her　pretend　to　the　nice　polite　sentiments　that　she　should　express。　What　a　terrible；　terrible　thing　it　was　to　have　to　do　with　a　man　who　wasn’t　a　gentleman。　A　gentleman　always　appeared　to　believe　a　lady　even　when　he　knew　she　was　lying。　That　was　Southern　chivalry。　A　gentleman　always　obeyed　the　rules　and　said　the　correct　things　and　made　life　easier　for　a　lady。　But　this　man　seemed　not　to　care　for　rules　and　evidently　enjoyed　talking　of　things　no　one　ever　talked　about。
　“I　am　waiting　breathlessly。”
　“I　think　you　are　horrid；”　she　said；　helplessly；　dropping　her　eyes。
　He　leaned　down　across　the　counter　until　his　mouth　was　near　her　ear　and　hissed；　in　a　very　creditable　imitation　of　the　stage　villains　who　appeared　infrequently　at　the　Athenaeum　Hall：　“Fear　not；　fair　lady！　Your　guilty　secret　is　safe　with　me！”
　“Oh；”　she　whispered；　feverishly；　“how　can　you　say　such　things！”
　“I　only　thought　to　ease　your　mind。　What　would　you　have　me　say？　‘Be　mine；　beautiful　female；　or　I　will　reveal　all？’　”
　She　met　his　eyes　unwillingly　and　saw　they　were　as　teasing　as　a　small　boy’s。　Suddenly　she　laughed。　It　was　such　a　silly　situation；　after　all。　He　laughed　too；　and　so　loudly　that　several　of　the　chaperons　in　the　corner　looked　their　way。　Observing　how　good　a　time　Charles　Hamilton’s　widow　appeared　to　be　having　with　a　perfect　stranger；　they　put　their　heads　together　disapprovingly。
　
　There　was　a　roll　of　drums　and　many　voices　cried　“Sh！”　as　Dr。　Meade　mounted　the　platform　and　spread　out　his　arms　for　quiet。
　“We　must　all　give　grateful　thanks　to　the　charming　ladies　whose　indefatigable　and　patriotic　efforts　have　made　this　bazaar　not　only　a　pecuniary　success；”　he　began；　“but　have　transformed　this　rough　hall　into　a　bower　of　loveliness；　a　fit　garden　for　the　charming　rosebuds　I　see　about　me。”
　Everyone　clapped　approvingly。
　“The　ladies　have　given　their　best；　not　only　of　their　time　but　of　the　labor　of　their　hands；　and　these　beautiful　objects　in　the　booths　are　doubly　beautiful；　made　as　they　are　by　the　fair　hands　of　our　charming　Southern　women。”
　There　were　more　shouts　of　approval；　and　Rhett　Butler　who　had　been　lounging　negligently　against　the　counter　at　Scarlett’s　side　whispered：　“Pompous　goat；　isn’t　he？”
　Startled；　at　first　horrified；　at　this　lese　majesty　toward　Atlanta’s　most　beloved　citizen；　she　stared　reprovingly　at　him。　But　the　doctor　did　look　like　a　goat　with　his　gray　chin　whiskers　wagging　away　at　a　great　rate；　and　with　difficulty　she　stifled　a　giggle。
　“But　these　things　are　not　enough。　The　good　ladies　of　the　hospital　committee；　whose　cool　hands　have　soothed　many　a　suffering　brow　and　brought　back　from　the　jaws　of　death　our　brave　men　wounded　in　the　bravest　of　all　Causes；　know　our　needs。　I　will　not　enumerate　them。　We　must　have　more　money　to　buy　medical　supplies　from　England；　and　we　have　with　us　tonight　the　intrepid　captain　who　has　so　successfully　run　the　blockade　for　a　year　and　who　will　run　it　again　to　bring　us　the　drugs　we　need。　Captain　Rhett　Butler！”
　Though　caught　unawares；　the　blockader　made　a　graceful　bow—too　graceful；　thought　Scarlett；　trying　to　analyze　it。　It　was　almost　as　if　he　overdid　his　courtesy　because　his　contempt　for　everybody　present　was　so　great。　There　was　a　loud　burst　of　applause　as　he　bowed　and　a　craning　of　necks　from　the　ladies　in　the　corner。　So　that　was　who　poor　Charles　Hamilton’s　widow　was　carrying　on　with！　And　Charlie　hardly　dead　a　year！
　“We　need　more　gold　and　I