飘

rd　him　had　not　changed　since　the　day　when　she　first　fell　in　love　with　him。　They　were　the　same　emotions　that　struck　her　speechless　that　day　when　she　was　fourteen　years　old　and　she　had　stood　on　the　porch　of　Tara　and　seen　Ashley　ride　up　smiling；　his　hair　shining　silver　in　the　morning　sun。　Her　love　was　still　a　young　girl’s　adoration　for　a　man　she　could　not　understand；　a　man　who　possessed　all　the　qualities　she　did　not　own　but　which　she　admired。　He　was　still　a　young　girl’s　dream　of　the　Perfect　Knight　and　her　dream　asked　no　more　than　acknowledgment　of　his　love；　went　no　further　than　hopes　of　a　kiss。
　After　reading　the　letters；　she　felt　certain　he　did　love　her；　Scarlett；　even　though　he　had　married　Melanie；　and　that　certainty　was　almost　all　that　she　desired。　She　was　still　that　young　and　untouched。　Had　Charles　with　his　fumbling　awkwardness　and　his　embarrassed　intimacies　tapped　any　of　the　deep　vein　of　passionate　feeling　within　her；　her　dreams　of　Ashley　would　not　be　ending　with　a　kiss。　But　those　few　moonlight　nights　alone　with　Charles　had　not　touched　her　emotions　or　ripened　her　to　maturity。　Charles　had　awakened　no　idea　of　what　passion　might　be　or　tenderness　or　true　intimacy　of　body　or　spirit。
　All　that　passion　meant　to　her　was　servitude　to　inexplicable　male　madness；　unshared　by　females；　a　painful　and　embarrassing　process　that　led　inevitably　to　the　still　more　painful　process　of　childbirth。　That　marriage　should　be　like　this　was　no　surprise　to　her。　Ellen　had　hinted　before　the　wedding　that　marriage　was　something　women　must　bear　with　dignity　and　fortitude；　and　the　whispered　comments　of　other　matrons　since　her　widowhood　had　confirmed　this。　Scarlett　was　glad　to　be　done　with　passion　and　marriage。
　She　was　done　with　marriage　but　not　with　love；　for　her　love　for　Ashley　was　something　different；　having　nothing　to　do　with　passion　or　marriage；　something　sacred　and　breathtakingly　beautiful；　an　emotion　that　grew　stealthily　through　the　long　days　of　her　enforced　silence；　feeding　on　oft…thumbed　memories　and　hopes。
　She　sighed　as　she　carefully　tied　the　ribbon　about　the　packet；　wondering　for　the　thousandth　time　just　what　it　was　in　Ashley　that　eluded　her　understanding。　She　tried　to　think　the　matter　to　some　satisfactory　conclusion　but；　as　always；　the　conclusion　evaded　her　uncomplex　mind。　She　put　the　letters　back　in　the　lap　secretary　and　closed　the　lid。　Then　she　frowned；　for　her　mind　went　back　to　the　last　part　of　the　letter　she　had　just　read；　to　his　mention　of　Captain　Butler。　How　strange　that　Ashley　should　be　impressed；　by　something　that　scamp　had　said　a　year　ago。　Undeniably　Captain　Butler　was　a　scamp；　for　all　that　he　danced　divinely。　No　one　but　a　scamp　would　say　the　things　about　the　Confederacy　that　he　had　said　at　the　bazaar。
　She　crossed　the　room　to　the　mirror　and　parted　her　smooth　hair　approvingly。　Her　spirits　rose；　as　always　at　the　sight　of　her　white　skin　and　slanting　green　eyes；　and　she　smiled　to　bring　out　her　dimples。　Then　she　dismissed　Captain　Butler　from　her　mind　as　she　happily　viewed　her　reflection；　remembering　how　Ashley　had　always　liked　her　dimples。　No　pang　of　conscience　at　loving　another　woman’s　husband　or　reading　that　woman’s　mail　disturbed　her　pleasure　in　her　youth　and　charm　and　her　renewed　assurance　of　Ashley’s　love。
　She　unlocked　the　door　and　went　down　the　dim　winding　stair　with　a　light　heart。　Halfway　down　she　began　singing　“When　This　Cruel　War　Is　Over。”
　
　CHAPTER　XII
　THE　WAR　went　on；　successfully　for　the　most　part；　but　people　had　stopped　saying　“One　more　victory　and　the　war　is　over；”　just　as　they　had　stopped　saying　the　Yankees　were　cowards。　It　was　obvious　to　all　now　that　the　Yankees　were　far　from　cowardly　and　that　it　would　take　more　than　one　victory　to　conquer　them。　However；　there　were　the　Confederate　victories　in　Tennessee　scored　by　General　Morgan　and　General　Forrest　and　the　triumph　at　the　Second　Battle　of　Bull　Run　hung　up　like　visible　Yankee　scalps　to　gloat　over。　But　there　was　a　heavy　price　on　these　scalps。　The　hospitals　and　homes　of　Atlanta　were　overflowing　with　the　sick　and　wounded；　and　more　and　more　women　were　appearing　in　black。　The　monotonous　rows　of　soldiers’　graves　at　Oakland　Cemetery　stretched　longer　every　day。
　Confederate　money　had　dropped　alarmingly　and　the　price　of　food　and　clothing　had　risen　accordingly。　The　commissary　was　laying　such　heavy　levies　on　foodstuffs　that　the　tables　of　Atlanta　were　beginning　to　suffer。　White　flour　was　scarce　and　so　expensive　that　corn　bread　was　universal　instead　of　biscuits；　rolls　and　waffles。　The　butcher　shops　carried　almost　no　beef　and　very　little　mutton；　and　that　mutton　cost　so　much　only　the　rich　could　afford　it。　However　there　was　still　plenty　of　hog　meat；　as　well　as　chickens　and　vegetables。
　The　Yankee　blockade　about　the　Confederate　ports　had　tightened；　and　luxuries　such　as　tea；　coffee；　silks；　whalebone　stays；　colognes；　fashion　magazines　and　books　were　scarce　and　dear。　Even　the　cheapest　cotton　goods　had　skyrocketed　in　price　and　ladies　were　regretfully　making　their　old　dresses　do　another　season。　Looms　that　had　gathered　dust　for　years　had　been　brought　down　from　attics；　and　there　were　webs　of　homespun　to　be　found　in　nearly　every　parlor。　Everyone；　soldiers；　civilians；　women；　children　and　negroes；　began　to　wear　homespun。　Gray；　as　the　color　of　the　Confederate　uniform；　practically　disappeared　and　homespun　of　a　butternut　shade　took　its　place。
　Already　the　hospitals　were　worrying　about　the　scarcity　of　quinine；　calomel；　opium；　chloroform　and　iodine。　Linen　and　cotton　bandages　were　too　precious　now　to　be　thrown　away　when　used；　and　every　lady　who　nursed　at　the　hospitals　brought　home　baskets　of　bloody　strips　to　be　washed　and　ironed　and　returned　for　use　on　other　sufferers。
　But　to　Scarlett；　newly　emerged　from　the　chrysalis　of　widowhood；　all　the　war　meant　was　a　time　of　gaiety　and　excitement。　Even　the　small　privations　of　clothing　and　food　did　not　annoy　her；　so　happy　was　she　to　be　in　the　world　again。
　When　she　thought　of　the　dull　times　of　the　past　year；　with　the　days　going　by　one　very　much　like　another；　life　seemed　to　have　quickened　to　an　incredible　speed。　Every　day　dawned　as　an　exciting　adventure；　a　day　in　which　she　would　meet　new　men　who　would　ask　to　call　on　her；　tell　her　how　pretty　she　was；　and　how　it　was　a　privilege　to　fight　and；　perhaps；　to　die　for　her。　She　could　and　did　love　Ashley　with　the　last　breath　in　her　body；　but　that　did　not　prevent　her　from　inveigling　other　men　into　asking　to　marry　her。
　The　ever…present　war　in　the　background　lent　a　pleasant　informality　to　social　relations；　an　informality　which　older　people　viewed　with　alarm。　Mothers　found　strange　men　calling　on　their　daughters；　men　who　came　without　letters　of　introduction　and　whose　antecedents　were　unknown。　To　their　horror；　mothers　found　their　daughters　holding　hands　with　these　men。　Mrs。　Merriwether；　who　had　never　kissed　her　husband　until　after　the　wedding　ceremony；　could　scarcely　believe　her　eyes　when　she　caught　Maybelle　kissing　the　little　Zouave；　René　Picard；　and　her　consternation　was　even　greater　when　Maybelle　refused　to　be　ashamed。　Even　the　fact　that　René　immediately　asked　for　her　hand　did　not　improve　matters。　Mrs。　Merriwether　felt　that　the　South　was　heading　for　a　complete　moral　collapse　and　frequently　said　so。　Other　mothers　concurred　heartily　with　her　and　blamed　it　on　the　war。
　But　men　who　expected　to　die　within　a　week　or　a　month　could　not　wait　a　year　before　they　begged　to　call　a　girl　by　her　first　name；　with　“Miss；”　of　course；　preceding　it。　Nor　would　they　go　through　the　formal　and　protracted　courtships　which　good　manners　had　prescribed　before　the　war。　They　were　likely　to　propose　in　three　or　four　months。　And　girls　who　knew　very　well　that　a　lady　always　refused　a　gentleman　the　first　three　times　he　proposed　rushed　headlong　to　accept　the　first　time。
　This　informality　made　the　war　a　lot　of　fun　for　Scarlett。　Except　for　the　messy　business　of　nursing　and　the　bore　of　bandage　rolling；　she　did　not　care　if　the　war　lasted　forever。　In　fact；　she　could　endure　the　hospital　with　equanimity　now　because　it　was　a　perfect　happy　hunting　ground。　The　helpless　wounded　succumbed　to　her　charms　without　a　struggle。　Renew　their　bandages；　wash　their　faces；　pat　up　their　pillows　and　fan　them；　and　they　fell　in　love。　Oh；　it　was　Heaven　after　the　last　dreary　year！
　Scarlett　was　back　again　where　she　had　been　before　she　married　Charles　and　it　was　as　if　she　had　never　married　him；　never　felt　the　shock　of　his　death；　never　borne　Wade。　War　and　marriage　and　childbirth　had　passed　over　her　without　touching　any　deep　chord　within　her　and　she　was　unchanged。　She　had　a　child　but　he　was　cared　for　so　well　by　the　others　in　the　red　brick　house　she　could　almost　forget　him。　In　her　mind　and　heart；　she　was　Scarlett　O’Hara　again；　the　belle　of　the　County。　Her　thoughts　and　activities　were　the　same　as　they　had　been　in　the　old　days；　but　the　field　of　her　activities　had　widened　immensely。　Careless　of　the　disapproval　of　Aunt　Pitty’s　friends；　she　behaved　as　she　had　behaved　before　her　marriage；　went　to　parties；　danced；　went　riding　with　soldiers；　flirted；　did　everything　she　had　done　as　a　girl；　except　stop　wearing　mourning。　This　she　knew　would　be　a　straw　that　would　break　the　backs　of　Pittypat　and　Melanie。　She　was　as　charming　a　widow　as　she　had　been　a　girl；　pleasant　when　she　had　he