HOPE WAS ROLLING HIGH in every Southern heart as the summer of 1863 came in. Despite privation and hardships, despite food speculators and kindred scourges, despite death and sickness and suffering which had now left their mark on nearly every family, the South was again saying “One more victory and the war is over,” saying it with even more happy assurance than in the summer before. The Yankees were proving a hard nut to crack but they were cracking at last.
Christmas of 1862 had been a happy one for Atlanta, for the whole South. The Confederacy had scored a smashing victory at Fredericksburg and the Yankee dead and wounded were counted in the thousands. There was universal rejoicing in that holiday season, rejoicing and thankfulness that the tide was turning. The army in butternut were now seasoned fighters, their generals had proven their mettle, and everyone knew that when the campaign reopened in the spring, the Yankees would be crushed for good and all.
Spring came and the fighting recommenced. May came and the Confederacy won another great victory at Chancellorsville. The South roared with elation.
Closer at home, a Union cavalry dash into Georgia had been turned into a Confederate triumph. Folks were still laughing and slapping each other on the back and saying: “Yes, sir! When old Nathan Bedford Forrest gets after them, they better git!” Late in April, Colonel Straight and eighteen hundred Yankee cavalry had made a surprise raid into Georgia, aiming at Rome, only a little more than sixty miles north of Atlanta. They had ambitious plans to cut the vitally important railroad between Atlanta and Tennessee and then swing southward into Atlanta to destroy the factories and the war supplies concentrated there in that key city of the Confederacy.
It was a bold stroke and it would have cost the South dearly, except for Forrest. With only one-third as many men—but what men and what riders!—he had started after them, engaged them before they even reached Rome, harassed them day and night and finally captured the entire force!
The news reached Atlanta almost simultaneously with the news of the victory at Chancellorsville, and the town fairly rocked with exultation and with laughter. Chancellorsville might be a more important victory but the capture of Streight’s raiders made the Yankees positively ridiculous.
“No, sir, they’d better not fool with old Forrest,” Atlanta said gleefully as the story was told over and over.
The tide of the Confederacy’s fortune was running strong and full now, sweeping the people jubilantly along on its flood. True, the Yankees under Grant had been besieging Vicksburg since the middle of May. True, the South had suffered a sickening loss when Stonewall Jackson had been fatally wounded at Chancellorsville. True, Georgia had lost one of her bravest and most brilliant sons when General T. R. R. Cobb had been killed at Fredericksburg. But the Yankees just couldn’t stand any more defeats like Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. They’d have to give in, and then this cruel war would be over.
The first days of July came and with them the rumor, later confirmed by dispatches, that Lee was marching into Pennsylvania. Lee in the enemy’s territory! Lee forcing battle! This was the last fight of the war!
Atlanta was wild with excitement, pleasure and a hot thirst for vengeance. Now the Yankees would know what it meant to have the war carried into their own country. Now they’d know what it meant to have fertile fields stripped, horses and cattle stolen, houses burned, old men and boys dragged off to prison and women and children turned out to starve.
Everyone knew what the Yankees had done in Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia. Even small children could recite with hate and fear the horrors the Yankees had inflicted upon the conquered territory. Already Atlanta was full of refugees from east Tennessee, and the town had heard firsthand stories from them of what suffering they had gone through. In that section, the Confederate sympathizers were in the minority and the hand of war fell heavily upon them, as it did on all the border states, neighbor informing against neighbor and brother killing brother. These refugees cried out to see Pennsylvania one solid sheet of flame, and even the gentlest of old ladies wore expressions of grim pleasure.
But when the news trickled back that Lee had issued orders that no private property in Pennsylvania should be touched, that looting would be punished by death and that the army would pay for every article it requisitioned—then it needed all the reverence the General had earned to save his popularity. Not turn the men loose in the rich storehouses of that prosperous state? What was General Lee thinking of? And our boys so hungry and needing shoes and clothes and horses!
A hasty note from Darcy Meade to the doctor, the only first-hand information Atlanta received during those first days of July, was passed from hand to hand, with mounting indignation.
“Pa, could you manage to get me a pair of boots? I’ve been barefooted for two weeks now and I don’t see any prospects of getting another pair. If I didn’t have such big feet I could get them off dead Yankees like the other boys, but I’ve never yet found a Yankee whose feet were near as big as mine. If you can get me some, don’t mail them. Somebody would steal them on the way and I wouldn’t blame them. Put Phil on the train and send him up with them. I’ll write you soon, where we’ll be. Right now I don’t know, except that we’re marching north. We’re in Maryland now and everybody says we’re going on into Pennsylvania. …
“Pa, I thought that we’d give the Yanks a taste of their own medicine but the General says No, and personally I don’t care to get shot just for the pleasure of burning some Yank’s house. Pa, today we marched through the grandest cornfields you ever saw. We don’t have corn like this down home. Well, I must admit we did a bit of private looting in that corn, for we were all pretty hungry and what the General don’t know won’t hurt him. But that green corn didn’t do us a bit of good. All the boys have got dysentery anyway, and that corn made it worse. It’s easier to walk with a leg wound than with dysentery. Pa, do try to manage some boots for me. I’m a captain now and a captain ought to have boots, even if be hasn’t got a new uniform or epaulets.”
But the army was in Pennsylvania—that was all that mattered. One more victory and the war would be over, and then Darcy Meade could have all the boots he wanted, and the boys would come marching home and everybody would be happy again. Mrs. Meade’s eyes grew wet as she pictured her soldier son home at last, home to stay.
On the third of July, a sudden silence fell on the wires from the north, a silence that lasted till midday of the fourth when fragmentary and garbled reports began to trickle into headquarters in Atlanta. There had been hard fighting in Pennsylvania, near a little town named Gettysburg, a great battle with all Lee’s army massed. The news was uncertain, slow in coming, for the battle had been fought in the enemy’s territory and the reports came first through Maryland, were relayed to Richmond and then to Atlanta.
Suspense grew and the beginnings of dread slowly crawled over the town. Nothing was so bad as not knowing what was happening. Families with sons at the front prayed fervently that their boys were not in Pennsylvania, but those who knew their relatives were in the same regiment with Darcy Meade clamped their teeth and said it was an honor for them to be in the big fight that would lick the Yankees for good and all.
In Aunt Pitty’s house, the three women looked into one another’s eyes with fear they could not conceal. Ashley was in Darcy’s regiment.
On the fifth came evil tidings, not from the North but from the West. Vicksburg had fallen, fallen after a long and bitter siege, and practically all the Mississippi River, from St. Louis to New Orleans was in the hands of the Yankees. The Confederacy had been cut in two. At any other time, the news of this disaster would have brought fear and lamentation to Atlanta. But now they could give little thought to Vicksburg. They were thinking of Lee in Pennsylvania, forcing battle. Vicksburg’s loss would be no catastrophe if Lee won in the East. There lay Philadelphia, New York, Washington. Their capture would paralyze the North and more than cancel off the defeat on the Mississippi.
The hours dragged by and the black shadow of calamity brooded over the town, obscuring the hot sun until people looked up startled into the sky as if incredulous that it was clear and blue instead of murky and heavy with scudding clouds. Everywhere, women gathered in knots, huddled in groups on front porches, on sidewalks, even in the middle of the streets, telling each other that no news is good news, trying to comfort each other, trying to present a brave appearance. But hideous rumors that Lee was killed, the battle lost, and enormous casualty lists coming in, fled up and down the quiet streets like darting bats. Though they tried not to believe, whole neighborhoods, swayed by panic, rushed to town, to the newspapers, to headquarters, pleading for news, any news, even bad news.
Crowds formed at the depot, hoping for news from incoming trains, at the telegraph office, in front of the harried headquarters, before the locked doors of the newspapers. They were oddly still crowds, crowds that quietly grew larger and larger. There was no talking. Occasionally an old man’s treble voice begged for news, and instead of inciting the crowd to babbling it only intensified the hush as they heard the oft-repeated: “Nothing on the wires yet from the North except that there’s been fighting.” The fringe of women on foot and in carriages grew greater and greater, and the heat of the close-packed bodies and dust rising from restless feet were suffocating. The women did not speak, but their pale set faces pleaded with a mute eloquence that was louder than wailing.
There was hardly a house in town that had not sent away a son, a brother, a father, a lover, a husband, to this battle. They all waited to hear the news that death had come to their homes. They expected death. They did not expect defeat. That thought they dismissed. Their men might be dying, even now, on the sun-parched grass of the Pennsylvania hills. Even now the Southern ranks might be falling like grain before a hailstorm, but the Cause for which they fought could never fall. They might be dying in thousands but, like the fruit of the dragon’s teeth, thousands of fresh men in gray and butternut with the Rebel yell on their lips would spring up from the earth to take their places. Where these men would come from, no one knew. They only knew, as surely as they knew there was a just and jealous God in Heaven, that Lee was miraculous and the Army of Virginia invincible.
Scarlett, Melanie and Miss Pittypat sat in front of the Daily Examiner office in the carriage with the top back, sheltered beneath their parasols. Scarlett’s hands shook so that her parasol wobbled above her head, Pitty was so excited her nose quivered in her round face like a rabbit’s, but Melanie sat as though carved of stone, her dark eyes growing larger and larger as time went by. She made only one remark in two hours, as she took a vial of smelling salts from her reticule and handed it to her aunt, the only time she had ever spoken to her, in her whole life, with anything but tenderest affection.
“Take this, Auntie, and use it if you feel faint. I warn you if you do faint you’ll just have to faint and let Uncle Peter take you home, for I’m not going to leave this place till I hear about—till I hear. And I’m not going to let Scarlett leave me, either.”
Scarlett had no intention of leaving, no intention of placing herself where she could not have the first news of Ashley. No, even if Miss Pitty died, she wouldn’t leave this spot. Somewhere, Ashley was fighting, perhaps dying, and the newspaper office was the only place where she could learn the truth.
She looked about the crowd, picking out friends and neighbors, Mrs. Meade with her bonnet askew and her arm though that of fifteen-year-old Phil; the Misses McLure trying to make their trembling upper lips cover their buck teeth; Mrs. Elsing, erect as a Spartan mother, betraying her inner turmoil only by the straggling gray locks that hung from her chignon; and Fanny Elsing white as a ghost (Surely Fanny wouldn’t be so worried about her brother Hugh. Had she a real beau at the front that no one suspected?) Mrs. Merriwether sat in her carriage patting Maybelle’s hand. Maybelle looked so very pregnant it was a disgrace for her to be out in public, even if she did have her shawl carefully draped over her. Why should she be so worried? Nobody had heard that the Louisiana troops were in Pennsylvania. Probably her hairy little Zouave was safe in Richmond this very minute.
There was a movement on the outskirts of the crowd and those on foot gave way as Rhett Butler carefully edged his horse toward Aunt Pitty’s carriage. Scarlett thought: He’s got courage, coming here at this time when it wouldn’t take anything to make this mob tear him to pieces because he isn’t in uniform. As he came nearer, she thought she might be the first to rend him. How dared he sit there on that fine horse, in shining boots and handsome white linen suit so sleek and well fed, smoking an expensive cigar, when Ashley and all the other boys were fighting the Yankees, barefooted, sweltering in the heat, hungry, their bellies rotten with disease?
Bitter looks were thrown at him as he came slowly through the press. Old men growled in their beards, and Mrs. Merriwether who feared nothing rose slightly in her carriage and said clearly: “Speculator!” in a tone that made the word the foulest and most venomous of epithets. He paid no heed to anyone but raised his hat to Melly and Aunt Pitty and, riding to Scarlett’s side, leaned down and whispered: “Don’t you think this would be the time for Dr. Meade to give us his familiar speech about victory perching like a screaming eagle on our banners?”
Her nerves taut with suspense, she turned on him as swiftly as an angry cat, hot words bubbling to her lips, but he stopped them with a gesture.
“I came to tell you ladies,” he said loudly, “that I have been to headquarters and the first casualty lists are coming in.”
At these words a hum rose among those near enough to hear his remark, and the crowd surged, ready to turn and run down Whitehall Street toward headquarters.
“Don’t go,” he called, rising in his saddle and holding up his hand. “The lists have been sent to both newspapers and are now being printed. Stay where you are!”
“Oh, Captain Butler,” cried Melly, turning to him with tears in her eyes. “How kind of you to come and tell us! When will they be posted?”
“They should be out any minute, Madam. The reports have been in the offices for half an hour now. The major in charge didn’t want to let that out until the printing was done, for fear the crowd would wreck the offices trying to get news. Ah! Look!”
The side window of the newspaper office opened and a hand was extended, bearing a sheaf of long narrow galley proofs, smeared with fresh ink and thick with names closely printed. The crowd fought for them, tearing the slips in half, those obtaining them trying to back out through the crowd to read, those behind pushing forward, crying: “Let me through!”
“Hold the reins,” said Rhett shortly, swinging to the ground and tossing the bridle to Uncle Peter. They saw his heavy shoulders towering above the crowd as he went through, brutally pushing and shoving. In a while he was back, with half a dozen in his hands. He tossed one to Melanie and distributed the others among the ladies in the nearest carriages, the Misses McLure, Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Merriwether, Mrs. Elsing.
“Quick, Melly,” cried Scarlett, her heart in her throat, exasperation sweeping her as she saw that Melly’s hands were shaking so that it was impossible for her to read.
“Take it,” whispered Melly, and Scarlett snatched it from her. The Ws. Where were the Ws? Oh, there they were at the bottom and all smeared up. “White,” she read and her voice shook, “Wilkens ... Winn ... Zebulon ... Oh, Melly, he’s not on it! He’s not on it! Oh, for God’s sake, Auntie, Melly, pick up the salts! Hold her up, Melly.”
Melly, weeping openly with happiness, steadied Miss Pitty’s rolling head and held the smelling salts under her nose. Scarlett braced the fat old lady on the other side, her heart singing with joy. Ashley was alive. He wasn’t even wounded. How good God was to pass him by! How—
She heard a low moan and, turning, saw Fanny Elsing lay her head on her mother’s bosom, saw the casualty list flutter to the floor of the carriage, saw Mrs. Elsing’s thin lips quiver as she gathered her daughter in her arms and said quietly to the coachman: “Home. Quickly.” Scarlett took a quick glance at the lists. Hugh Elsing was not listed. Fanny must have had a beau and now he was dead. The crowd made way in sympathetic silence for the Elsings’ carriage, and after them followed the little wicker pony cart of the McLure girls. Miss Faith was driving, her face like a rock, and for once, her teeth were covered by her lips. Miss Hope, death in her face, sat erect beside her, holding her sister’s skirt in a tight grasp. They looked like very old women. Their young brother Dallas was their darling and the only relative the maiden ladies had in the world. Dallas was gone.
“Melly! Melly!” cried Maybelle, joy in her voice, “René is safe! And Ashley, too! Oh, thank God!” The shawl had slipped from her shoulders and her condition was most obvious but, for once, neither she nor Mrs. Merriwether cared. “Oh, Mrs. Meade! René—” Her voice changed, swiftly, “Melly, look!—Mrs. Meade, please! Darcy isn’t—?”
Mrs. Meade was looking down into her lap and she did not raise her head when her name was called, but the face of little Phil beside her was an open book that all might read.
“There, there, Mother,” he said, helplessly. Mrs. Meade, looked up, meeting Melanie’s eyes.
“He won’t need those boots now,” she said.
“Oh, darling!” cried Melly, beginning to sob, as she shoved Aunt Pitty onto Scarlett’s shoulder and scrambled out of the carriage and toward that of the doctor’s wife.
“Mother, you’ve still got me,” said Phil, in a forlorn effort at comforting the white-faced woman beside him. “And if you’ll just let me, I’ll go kill all the Yank—”
Mrs. Meade clutched his arm as if she would never let it go, said “No!” in a strangled voice and seemed to choke.
“Phil Meade, you hush your mouth!” hissed Melanie, climbing in beside Mrs. Meade and taking her in her arms. “Do you think it’ll help your mother to have you off getting shot too? I never heard anything so silly. Drive us home, quick!”
She turned to Scarlett as Phil picked up the reins.
“As soon as you take Auntie home, come over to Mrs. Meade’s. Captain Butler, can you get word to the doctor? He’s at the hospital.”
The carriage moved off through the dispersing crowd. Some of the women were weeping with joy, but most looked too stunned to realize the heavy blows that had fallen upon them. Scarlett bent her head over the blurred lists, reading rapidly, to find names of friends. Now that Ashley was safe she could think of other people. Oh, how long the list was! How heavy the toll from Atlanta, from all of Georgia.
Good Heavens! “Calvert—Raiford, Lieutenant.” Raif! Suddenly she remembered the day, so long ago, when they had run away together but decided to come home at nightfall because they were hungry and afraid of the dark.
“Fontaine—Joseph K., private,” Little bad-tempered Joe! And Sally hardly over having her baby!
“Munroe—LaFayette, Captain.” And Lafe had been engaged to Cathleen Calvert. Poor Cathleen! Hers had been a double loss, a brother and a sweetheart. But Sally’s loss was greater—a brother and a husband.
Oh, this was too terrible. She was almost afraid to read further. Aunt Pitty was heaving and sighing on her shoulder and, with small ceremony, Scarlett pushed her over into a comer of the carriage and continued her reading.
Surely, surely—there couldn’t be three “Tarleton” names on that list. Perhaps—perhaps the hurried printer had repeated the name by error. But no. There they were. “Tarleton—Brenton, Lieutenant.” “Tarleton—Stuart, Corporal.” “Tarleton—Thomas, private.” And Boyd, dead the first year of the war, was buried God knew where in Virginia. All the Tarleton boys gone. Tom and the lazy long-legged twins with their love of gossip and their absurd practical jokes and Boyd who had the grace of a dancing master and the tongue of a wasp.
She could not read any more. She could not know if any other of those boys with whom she had grown up, danced, flirted, kissed were on that list. She wished that she could cry, do something to ease the iron fingers that were digging into her throat.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” said Rhett. She looked up at him. She had forgotten he was still there. “Many of your friends?”
She nodded and struggled to speak: “About every family in the County—and all—all three of the Tarleton boys.”
His face was quiet, almost somber, and there was no mocking in his eyes.
“And the end is not yet,” he said. “These are just the first lists and they’re incomplete. There’ll be a longer list tomorrow.” He lowered his voice so that those in the near-by carriages could not hear. “Scarlett, General Lee must have lost the battle. I heard at headquarters that he had retreated back into Maryland.”
She raised frightened eyes to his, but her fear did not spring from Lee’s defeat. Longer casualty lists tomorrow! Tomorrow. She had not thought of tomorrow, so happy was she at first that Ashley’s name was not on that list. Tomorrow. Why, right this minute he might be dead and she would not know it until tomorrow, or perhaps a week from tomorrow.
“Oh, Rhett, why do there have to be wars? It would have been so much better for the Yankees to pay for the darkies—or even for us to give them the darkies free of charge than to have this happen.”
“It isn’t the darkies, Scarlett. They’re just the excuse. There’ll always be wars because men love wars. Women don’t, but men do—yea, passing the love of women.”
His mouth twisted in his old smile and the seriousness was gone from his face. He lifted his wide Panama hat.
“Good-by. I’m going to find Dr. Meade. I imagine the irony of me being the one to tell him of his son’s death will be lost on him, just now. But later, he’ll probably hate to think that a speculator brought the news of a hero’s death.”
Scarlett put Miss Pitty to bed with a toddy, left Prissy and Cookie in attendance and went down the street to the Meade house. Mrs. Meade was upstairs with Phil, waiting her husband’s return, and Melanie sat in the parlor, talking in a low voice to a group of sympathetic neighbors. She was busy with needle and scissors, altering a mourning dress that Mrs. Elsing had lent to Mrs. Meade. Already the house was full of the acrid smell of clothes boiling in homemade black dye for, in the kitchen, the sobbing cook was stirring all of Mrs. Meade’s dresses in the huge wash pot.
“How is she?” questioned Scarlett softly.
“Not a tear,” said Melanie. “It’s terrible when women can’t cry. I don’t know how men stand things without crying. I guess it’s because they’re stronger and braver than women. She says she’s going to Pennsylvania by herself to bring him home. The doctor can’t leave the hospital.”
“It will be dreadful for her! Why can’t Phil go?”
“She’s afraid he’ll join the army if he gets out of her sight. You know he’s so big for his age and they’re taking them at sixteen now.”
One by one the neighbors slipped away, reluctant to be present when the doctor came home, and Scarlett and Melanie were left alone, sewing in the parlor. Melanie looked sad but tranquil, though tears dropped down on the cloth she held in her hands. Evidently she had not thought that the battle might still be going on and Ashley perhaps dead at this very moment. With panic in her heart, Scarlett did not know whether to tell Melanie of Rhett’s words and have the dubious comfort of her misery or keep it to herself. Finally she decided to remain quiet. It would never do for Melanie to think her too worried about Ashley. She thanked God that everyone, Melly and Pitty included, had been too engrossed in her own worries that morning to notice her conduct.
After an interval of silent sewing, they heard sounds outside and, peering through the curtains, they saw Dr. Meade alighting from his horse. His shoulders were sagging and his head bowed until his gray beard spread out fanlike on his chest. He came slowly into the house and, laying down his hat and bag, kissed both the girls silently. Then he went tiredly up the stairs. In a moment Phil came down, all long legs and arms and awkwardness. The two girls looked an invitation to join them, but he went onto the front porch and, seating himself on the top step, dropped his head on his cupped palm.
Melly sighed.
“He’s mad because they won’t let him go fight the Yankees. Fifteen years old! Oh, Scarlett, it would be Heaven to have a son like that!”
“And have him get killed,” said Scarlett shortly, thinking of Darcy.
“It would be better to have a son even if he did get killed than to never have one,” said Melanie and gulped. “You can’t understand, Scarlett, because you’ve got little Wade, but I— Oh, Scarlett, I want a baby so bad! I know you think I’m horrid to say it right out, but it’s true and only what every woman wants and you know it.”
Scarlett restrained herself from sniffing.
“If God should will that Ashley should be—taken, I suppose I could bear it, though I’d rather die if he died. But God would give me strength to bear it. But I could not bear having him dead and not having—not having a child of his to comfort me. Oh, Scarlett, how lucky you are! Though you lost Charlie, you have his son. And if Ashley goes, I’ll have nothing. Scarlett, forgive me, but sometimes I’ve been so jealous of you—”
“Jealous—of me?” cried Scarlett, stricken with guilt.
“Because you have a son and I haven’t. I’ve even pretended sometimes that Wade was mine because it’s so awful not to have a child.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee!” said Scarlett in relief. She cast a quick glance at the slight figure with blushing face bent over the sewing. Melanie might want children but she certainly did not have the figure for bearing them. She was hardly taller than a twelve-year-old child, her hips were as narrow as a child’s and her breasts were very flat. The very thought of Melanie having a child was repellent to Scarlett. It brought up too many thoughts she couldn’t bear thinking. If Melanie should have a child of Ashley’s, it would be as though something were taken from Scarlett that was her own.
“Do forgive me for saying that about Wade. You know I love him so. You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Scarlett shortly. “And go out on the porch and do something for Phil. He’s crying.”
第十四章
１８６３年夏天到來(lái)時(shí)，每個(gè)南方人心里也升起了希望。盡管有疲困和艱難，盡管有糧食投機(jī)商和類(lèi)似的蟊賊，盡管死亡，疾病和痛苦給幾乎每一個(gè)家庭留下了陰影，南方畢竟又在說(shuō)：“再打一個(gè)勝仗就可以結(jié)束戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)了，"而且是懷著比頭年夏天更樂(lè)觀的心情說(shuō)的。北方佬的確是個(gè)很難砸開(kāi)的核桃，可是他們終于在破裂了。
對(duì)于亞特蘭大和對(duì)于整個(gè)南方來(lái)說(shuō)，１８６２年圣誕節(jié)是個(gè)愉快的節(jié)日。南部聯(lián)盟在弗雷德里克斯堡打了一個(gè)很大的勝仗，北方佬傷亡的人員數(shù)以千計(jì)，人們?cè)诠?jié)假期間普遍歡欣鼓舞，歡慶和祈禱局勢(shì)已出現(xiàn)了轉(zhuǎn)折點(diǎn)。那些穿灰制服的軍隊(duì)已成了久經(jīng)沙場(chǎng)的隊(duì)伍，他們的將軍已屢建功勛，人人都知道，只要春季戰(zhàn)役一打響，北方佬就會(huì)被永遠(yuǎn)徹底地?fù)魸⒘恕?br>春天到來(lái)，戰(zhàn)斗又開(kāi)始了。到五月間南部聯(lián)盟軍隊(duì)又在昌塞洛斯維爾打了個(gè)大勝仗，整個(gè)南方都為之歡欣鼓舞。
在離本縣較近的地方，一支突入佐治亞的聯(lián)邦騎兵給擊潰了，又成了南部聯(lián)盟方面的勝利。人們?nèi)栽谖乇舜伺闹绫痴f(shuō)：“是啊，先生！只要咱們的老福雷斯特將軍跟上來(lái)，他們就不如早點(diǎn)滾了！"原來(lái)四月下旬斯特雷特上校率領(lǐng)一支八百人的北方騎兵隊(duì)伍突然襲入佐治亞，企圖占領(lǐng)在亞特蘭大北面六十余英里的羅姆。他們妄想切斷亞特蘭大和田納西之間的極端重要的鐵路線，然后向南攻入南部聯(lián)盟的樞紐城市亞特蘭大，把集中在那里的工廠和軍需物資徹底摧毀。
這是十分厲害的一招，如果沒(méi)有納·貝·福雷斯特將軍，就會(huì)給南方造成極大的損失。當(dāng)時(shí)這位將軍只帶領(lǐng)相當(dāng)于敵人三分之一的兵力----不過(guò)這是些多么了不起的騎手��！尾隨在他們后面，但趕在他們到達(dá)羅姆之前便交上了火，然后是晝夜猛擊，終于把他們?nèi)糠@了！
這個(gè)捷報(bào)和昌塞洛斯維爾大捷的消息幾乎同時(shí)傳到了亞特蘭大，引起全城一片震天動(dòng)地的歡呼。昌塞洛斯維爾的勝利可能有更加重大的意義，但是斯特雷特突擊隊(duì)的被俘也使北方佬顯得極為狼狽。
“不，先生，他們不要再跟老福雷斯特開(kāi)玩笑了！"亞特蘭大人開(kāi)心地說(shuō)，同時(shí)一再談?wù)撨@次打勝仗的經(jīng)過(guò)，興味無(wú)窮。
現(xiàn)在，南部聯(lián)盟走運(yùn)的形勢(shì)發(fā)展到了極盛的高潮階段，它席卷著滿懷喜悅的人們。不錯(cuò)，格蘭特率領(lǐng)下的北方佬軍隊(duì)五月中以來(lái)一直在圍攻維克斯堡。不錯(cuò)，斯·杰克遜在昌塞洛斯維爾受了重傷，這是南方的一個(gè)令人痛心的損失。不錯(cuò)，科布在弗雷德里克斯堡犧牲了，這使佐治亞失掉了一個(gè)最勇敢和最有才能的兒子�？墒�，北方佬再也經(jīng)不起像弗雷德里克斯堡和昌塞洛斯維爾這樣的慘敗了，他們會(huì)被迫投降，那時(shí)殘酷的戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)便可宣告結(jié)束了。
到七月初，先是謠傳，后來(lái)從快報(bào)上證實(shí)了：李將軍在向賓夕法尼亞挺進(jìn)。李將軍打進(jìn)了敵人區(qū)域了！李將軍在強(qiáng)攻了！這是最后一戰(zhàn)了！
亞特蘭大人興奮得如醉如狂，迫切地渴望著來(lái)一次報(bào)復(fù)。
如今北方佬知道將戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)打到自己的家里是什么滋味了。如今他們?cè)撝栏乇换膹U、牛馬被偷走、房屋被焚毀、老人孩子被抓進(jìn)牢房、婦女兒童被趕出來(lái)挨餓都是些什么樣的滋味了。
人人都清楚北方佬在密蘇里、肯塔基、田納西和弗吉尼亞都干了些什么。北方佬在占領(lǐng)區(qū)犯下的罪行，連很小的孩子都能又恨又怕地歷數(shù)出來(lái)�，F(xiàn)在亞特蘭大已到處是從田納西東部逃來(lái)的難民，他們親口講述自己的苦難經(jīng)歷，令人聽(tīng)了無(wú)不傷心。在那個(gè)地區(qū)，南部聯(lián)盟的同情者居少數(shù)，戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)帶給他們的災(zāi)難也最沉重，就像在所有邊境地區(qū)那樣，兄弟互相殘殺，人們彼此告密，這些難民都大聲要求讓賓夕法尼亞一片焦土，連那些最溫和的老太太也表現(xiàn)出嚴(yán)厲的喜悅心情。
但是有人從前線帶回消息說(shuō)，李將軍下了命令，賓夕法尼亞州的私人財(cái)產(chǎn)不能觸動(dòng)，掠奪一律處以死刑，凡軍隊(duì)征用任何物品都必須付錢(qián)----這樣，李將軍就得付出自己所贏得的全部尊敬才能保全在群眾中的聲望了，也不讓人們?cè)谀莻�(gè)繁華州的豐富倉(cāng)庫(kù)里為所欲為一下？李將軍究竟是怎么想的？可我們的小伙子卻迫切需要鞋子、衣服和馬匹呢！
米德大夫兒子達(dá)西捎回來(lái)一封急信，這是七月初亞特蘭大收到的惟一第一手新聞，因此便在人們手中傳遞，引起愈來(lái)愈大的憤慨。
“爸，你能設(shè)法給我弄一雙靴子來(lái)嗎？我已經(jīng)打了兩個(gè)星期赤腳了，至今還沒(méi)有希望得到靴子。要不是我的腳太大，我可以像別的小伙子那樣，從北方佬死人腳上脫一雙下來(lái)，可是我還沒(méi)打到一個(gè)有我這般大腳的北方佬呢。如果你能替我弄到，請(qǐng)不要通過(guò)郵局寄。有人會(huì)在途中偷走的，而我又不想責(zé)怪他們。還是叫費(fèi)爾坐趟火車(chē)送來(lái)吧。我們到什么地方，我會(huì)很快寫(xiě)信告訴人。只知道在朝北方行進(jìn)，眼前我還不清楚，我們此刻在馬里蘭，人人都說(shuō)是開(kāi)到賓夕法尼亞去……“爸，我覺(jué)得我們應(yīng)當(dāng)對(duì)北方佬以牙還牙，可是將軍說(shuō)不行。至于我個(gè)人，我并不愿意只圖一時(shí)高興去燒北方佬的房子而受到槍斃的處分，爸，今天我們穿過(guò)了你可能從沒(méi)見(jiàn)過(guò)的極大一片麥田。我們那里可沒(méi)有這樣的麥田呢。好吧，我得承認(rèn)我們?cè)谀瞧湹乩锿低蹈懔艘稽c(diǎn)掠奪，因?yàn)槲覀內(nèi)拣I得不行了，而這種事只要將軍不知道就不會(huì)有危險(xiǎn)的。不過(guò)沒(méi)有給我們?nèi)魏魏锰�，那麥子一吃下去便更糟了，小伙子們本�?lái)都患了點(diǎn)痢疾，要知道，帶著痢疾走路比拖著一條傷腿走還要困難呢。爸，請(qǐng)一定設(shè)法替我弄雙靴子來(lái)。我如今已當(dāng)了上尉，一個(gè)上尉即使沒(méi)有新的制服或肩章，也應(yīng)當(dāng)穿雙靴子嘛。"但是軍隊(duì)到了賓夕法尼亞----這才是重要的事情。再打一次勝仗戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)就會(huì)結(jié)束。那時(shí)達(dá)西·米德所需的靴子就全都有了，小伙子們就會(huì)往回開(kāi)拔了，大家再重新歡聚。米德太太想象兒子終于回到家里，從此不再離開(kāi)，便忍不住要落淚了。
七月三日，從北方來(lái)的電訊突然沉默了，一直到四日中午才有斷斷續(xù)續(xù)的經(jīng)過(guò)竄改的報(bào)道流入設(shè)在亞特蘭大的司令部。原來(lái)在賓夕法尼亞發(fā)生了激戰(zhàn)，在一個(gè)名叫葛底斯堡的小鎮(zhèn)附近打了一次投入李將軍全部兵力的大仗。消息并不怎么確切，來(lái)得也晚，因?yàn)閼?zhàn)爭(zhēng)是在敵人區(qū)域里打的，所有的報(bào)道都得首先經(jīng)過(guò)馬里蘭，轉(zhuǎn)到里士滿，然后再到亞特蘭大。
人們心中的焦慮逐漸增長(zhǎng)，恐懼的預(yù)感慢慢地流遍全城。
最糟糕的是不明白事情的真相。凡是有兒子在前線的家庭都焦急地祈禱著，但愿自己的孩子不在賓夕法尼亞，可是那些知道自己的親屬就在達(dá)西·米德團(tuán)里的，便只好咬著牙聲稱，他們參加了這次將永遠(yuǎn)打垮北方佬的鏖戰(zhàn)，是十分光榮的事。
皮蒂姑媽家的三位女人只好懷著無(wú)法掩飾的恐懼心里彼此面面相覷。艾希禮就在達(dá)西那個(gè)團(tuán)里呢。
到七月五日，壞消息終于到來(lái)，但不是從里士滿而是從西邊傳來(lái)的。維克斯堡陷落了，經(jīng)受長(zhǎng)期而殘酷的圍攻之后陷落了，而且實(shí)際上整個(gè)密西西比流域，從圣路易斯到新奧爾良，都已淪于北方佬之手。南部聯(lián)盟已被切成兩塊。在任何別的時(shí)候，這一災(zāi)難的消息都會(huì)給亞特蘭大人帶來(lái)恐怖和悲傷。但是現(xiàn)在，他們已來(lái)不及考慮維克斯堡。他們考慮的是在賓夕法尼亞進(jìn)行強(qiáng)攻的李將軍。只要李將軍在東邊打了勝仗，維克斯堡的陷落就不是太大的災(zāi)難了。還有賓夕法尼亞，紐約，華盛頓呢。一旦把它們打下來(lái)，整個(gè)北方便會(huì)陷于癱瘓狀態(tài)，這可以抵銷(xiāo)密西西比流域的敗績(jī)還綽綽有余。
時(shí)間一個(gè)鐘頭又一個(gè)鐘頭沉悶地過(guò)去，災(zāi)難的陰影籠罩著全城，使炎熱的太陽(yáng)都顯得昏暗了，直到人們突然抬起頭來(lái)，吃驚地凝望天空，仿佛不相信它是晴朗的、湛藍(lán)的，而是烏云遍布，一片昏沉。到處都可以看到，婦女們?cè)谖萸白呃壬希谌诵械郎�、甚至在街心聚集成群，擠作一堆，相互告訴說(shuō)沒(méi)有什么好消息，同時(shí)設(shè)法彼此安慰，裝出一付勇敢的模樣。可是謠言暗暗流傳，像蝙蝠似的在寂靜的大街上往來(lái)飛掠，說(shuō)是李將軍犧牲了，仗打敗了，大量傷亡的名單正源源而來(lái)。人們盡量不去信它，可是遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)近近的鄰居都已驚惶萬(wàn)狀，紛紛跑到市中心區(qū)，跑到報(bào)館和司令部去討消息，討任何消息，哪怕壞消息都行。
成群結(jié)隊(duì)的人聚集在車(chē)站旁邊，希望進(jìn)站的列車(chē)帶來(lái)消息，或者在電報(bào)局門(mén)口，在苦惱不堪的總部門(mén)外，在上著鎖的報(bào)館門(mén)前，等著，悄悄地等著，他們是些肅靜得出奇的人群，肅靜地愈聚愈多。沒(méi)有人說(shuō)話。偶爾有個(gè)老頭用顫抖的聲音來(lái)討消息，人們只聽(tīng)到那經(jīng)常重復(fù)的回答：“從北邊來(lái)的電報(bào)除了說(shuō)一直在戰(zhàn)斗之外，沒(méi)有別的。"但這不僅沒(méi)有激銷(xiāo)大伙的埋怨，反而加強(qiáng)了緘默氣氛。步行或坐著馬車(chē)在外圍活動(dòng)的婦女也愈來(lái)愈稠密擁擠。由于大家摩肩擦背而產(chǎn)生熱氣，以及不安腳步所激起的灰塵，使周?chē)目諝庖褠灥靡舷⒘�。那些女人并不說(shuō)話，但她們板著發(fā)青的臉孔卻以一種無(wú)聲的雄辯在發(fā)出請(qǐng)求，這是比哭泣還要響亮得多的。
城里幾乎每家每戶都有人上前線，無(wú)論他是兒子、兄弟、父親，還是情人、丈夫。人們都在等候著可能宣布他們家已經(jīng)有人犧牲的消息。他們預(yù)期有死訊到來(lái)，但不想收到失敗的消息。他們把那種失敗的想法打消了。他們的人可能正在犧牲，甚至就在此時(shí)此刻，在賓夕法尼亞山地太陽(yáng)烤著的荒草上，甚至就在此時(shí)此刻，南方的士兵可能正在紛紛倒下，象冰雹下的谷物一般，但是他們?yōu)橹畱?zhàn)斗的主義永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)倒。他們可能在成千上萬(wàn)地死亡，但是像龍齒的果子似的，成千上萬(wàn)的新人，穿著灰軍服，喊著造反的口號(hào)的新人，又會(huì)從地里冒出來(lái)接替他們。至于這些人將從哪里來(lái)，還沒(méi)人知道。
他們只是像確信天上有個(gè)公正而要求絕對(duì)忠實(shí)的上帝那樣，確信李將軍是非凡的，弗吉尼亞軍隊(duì)是不可戰(zhàn)勝的。
思嘉、媚蘭和皮蒂帕特小姐坐著馬車(chē)停在《觀察家日?qǐng)?bào)》社門(mén)前，她們打著陽(yáng)傘坐在車(chē)?yán)�。馬車(chē)的頂篷折到背后了，思嘉的手在發(fā)抖，頭上的陽(yáng)傘也隨著搖晃。皮蒂激動(dòng)得很，圓臉上的鼻子像只家兔的鼻子不停地顫動(dòng)，只有媚蘭象一尊石雕，坐在那里一動(dòng)不動(dòng)，但那雙黑眼睛也瞪得愈來(lái)愈大了。在兩個(gè)小時(shí)之內(nèi)她只說(shuō)過(guò)一句話，那是她從手提包里找出嗅鹽瓶遞給姑媽時(shí)說(shuō)的，而且是她有生以來(lái)第一次用這樣毫不親切的口氣對(duì)姑媽說(shuō)話。
“姑媽，拿著吧，要是你覺(jué)得快暈倒了，就聞一聞。如果你真的暈倒，老實(shí)告訴你，那也是沒(méi)有辦法的事，只好讓彼得大叔把你送回家去，因?yàn)槲也粫?huì)離開(kāi)這里，直到我聽(tīng)到有關(guān) ----直至我聽(tīng)到消息為止。而且，我也不會(huì)讓思嘉離開(kāi)我。”思嘉沒(méi)有要離開(kāi)的意思，因?yàn)樗幌胱屪约弘x開(kāi)以后得不到有關(guān)艾希禮的第一個(gè)消息。不，即使皮蒂小姐死了，她也決不離開(kāi)這里。艾希禮正在那邊什么地方打仗，也許正在死亡呢，而報(bào)館是她能得到確切信息的地方。
她環(huán)顧人群，認(rèn)出哪些是自己的朋友和鄰居，只見(jiàn)米德太太歪戴著帽子讓那個(gè)十五歲的費(fèi)爾攙扶著站在那里，麥克盧爾姐妹在設(shè)法用顫抖的上嘴唇掩蓋她們的黑牙；埃爾辛太太像個(gè)斯巴達(dá)母親似的站得筆直，只不過(guò)那幾綹從發(fā)髻上垂下來(lái)散亂的灰白頭發(fā)泄露了她內(nèi)心的混亂情緒；范妮·埃爾辛則臉色蒼白得像個(gè)幽靈。（當(dāng)然，范妮是不會(huì)為她兄弟這樣擔(dān)憂的，那么，她是否有個(gè)人們還不知道的真正情人在前線呢？）梅里韋瑟太太坐在她的馬車(chē)?yán)镙p輕拍著梅貝爾的手，梅貝爾好像懷孕許久了，盡管她用披肩把自己仔細(xì)遮了起來(lái)。她這樣出來(lái)公開(kāi)露面是很不雅觀的，她為什么這樣擔(dān)憂呀？沒(méi)有人聽(tīng)說(shuō)過(guò)路易斯安那的軍隊(duì)也到了賓夕法尼亞嘛。大慨她那位多毛的小個(gè)子義勇兵此刻還平平安安地待在里士滿吧。
人群外圍出現(xiàn)了一陣騷動(dòng)，那些站著的人都讓開(kāi)路來(lái)，這時(shí)瑞德·巴特勒騎著馬小心地向皮蒂姑媽的馬車(chē)靠近。思嘉心想，他哪來(lái)的勇氣，竟敢在這個(gè)時(shí)候跑來(lái)，也不怕這些亂民由于他沒(méi)穿軍服而輕易地把他撕得粉碎呢！他走近時(shí)，她覺(jué)得她自己就會(huì)頭一個(gè)動(dòng)手去撕他。他怎么敢騎著一匹駿馬，穿著錚亮的靴子和雪白筆挺的亞麻布套服，叼著昂貴的雪茄，那么時(shí)髦，那么健康，可這時(shí)艾希禮和所有其他的小伙子卻光著腳、冒著大汗、餓著肚子、患有胃潰瘍?cè)谕狈嚼凶鲬?zhàn)----他怎么敢這樣呀？
不少人向他投來(lái)惱恨的目光。他慢慢穿過(guò)人群，老頭們吹著胡子發(fā)出咆哮，天不怕地不怕的梅里韋瑟太太在馬車(chē)?yán)镂⑽⑶菲鹕韥?lái)清清楚楚地喊道：“投機(jī)商！”用的那聲調(diào)更使這個(gè)字顯得又臟又毒了�？墒撬麑�(duì)誰(shuí)都不理睬，只舉著帽子向媚蘭和皮蒂姑媽揮了揮，隨即來(lái)到思嘉身邊，俯下身低聲說(shuō)：“你不覺(jué)得現(xiàn)在應(yīng)當(dāng)讓米德大夫來(lái)給我們發(fā)表關(guān)于勝利的講演，說(shuō)勝利就像平息在我們旗幟上的一只尖叫的鷹嗎？”思嘉的神經(jīng)本來(lái)就緊張極了，不知怎么辦好，這時(shí)她突然像只憤怒的貓轉(zhuǎn)過(guò)頭來(lái)，想狠狠罵他幾句，可是他用一個(gè)手勢(shì)制止了。
“我是來(lái)告訴你們幾位的，"他大聲說(shuō)，"我剛才到過(guò)司令部，第一批傷亡名單已經(jīng)來(lái)了。"他這話在周?chē)切┞?tīng)他的話的人中頓時(shí)引起一陣低語(yǔ)，人群開(kāi)始騷動(dòng)，準(zhǔn)備沿著白廳街向司令部跑去。
“你們不要去，"他在馬鞍上站起身來(lái)，舉起手喊道：“你們就待在原地吧！名單已送到兩家報(bào)館去了，正在印刷�！薄斑�，巴特勒船長(zhǎng)，"媚蘭喊道，一面回過(guò)頭來(lái)眼淚汪汪地望著他。"真該謝謝你跑來(lái)告訴我們！名單幾時(shí)張貼呢？”“交給報(bào)館已半個(gè)小時(shí)了。很快會(huì)公布的，太太。管這外事的軍官一定叫印好才讓公布，因?yàn)榭峙氯罕姇?huì)沖進(jìn)去要消息。哎，你瞧！"報(bào)館側(cè)面的窗戶打開(kāi)了，一只手伸出來(lái)，手里拿著一疊窄長(zhǎng)的印刷品，上面是剛剛排印的密密麻麻的姓名。人群擁上前去搶。把那些長(zhǎng)條紙一下撕成兩半，有人搶到了就拚命擠出來(lái)急于要看，后面的繼續(xù)往前擠，大家都在叫喊：“讓我過(guò)去！讓我過(guò)去！”“拉住韁繩，"瑞德一面跳下馬，一面把韁繩扔給彼得大叔。人們看見(jiàn)他聳著一對(duì)高出眾人之上的肩膀，拼命推搡著從身邊擠過(guò)。一會(huì)兒他回來(lái)了，手里拿著好幾張名單，他扔給媚蘭一張，其余的分發(fā)給坐在附近馬車(chē)?yán)锏男〗闾�，中包括麥克盧爾姐妹、米德太太、梅里韋瑟太太、埃爾辛太太。
“快，媚蘭，"思嘉急不可耐地喊道，因?yàn)槊奶m的手在嗦嗦發(fā)抖，她沒(méi)法看清楚，惱火極了。
“你拿去吧，"媚蘭低聲說(shuō)，思嘉便一把搶了過(guò)來(lái)。先從以Ｗ打頭的名字看起，可是它們?cè)谀睦锬�？啊，在底下，而且都模糊了�?懷特，"她開(kāi)始念，嗓子有點(diǎn)顫抖，"威肯斯……溫……澤布倫……啊，媚蘭，他不在里面！他不在里面！姑媽？啊，你怎么了，媚蘭，把嗅鹽瓶拿出來(lái)！扶住她，媚蘭。"媚蘭高興得當(dāng)眾哭起來(lái)，一面扶住皮蒂小姐擺來(lái)擺去的頭，同時(shí)把嗅鹽放到他鼻子底下，思嘉從另一邊扶著那位胖老太太，心里也在歡樂(lè)地歌唱，艾希禮還活著，他甚至也沒(méi)受傷呢。上帝多好，把他放過(guò)來(lái)了！多么----她聽(tīng)到一聲低的呻吟，回頭一看，只見(jiàn)范妮·埃爾辛把頭靠在她母親胸口，那張傷亡名單飄落在馬車(chē)踏板上，埃爾辛太太的薄薄嘴唇顫抖著，她把女兒緊緊摟在懷里，一面平靜地吩咐車(chē)夫：“快，回家去。"思嘉把名單迅速看了一下，上面不見(jiàn)休·埃爾辛的名字，這么說(shuō)，范妮一定是有個(gè)情人在前線，現(xiàn)在死了！人群懷著同情默默地給埃爾辛家的馬車(chē)讓路，后面跟著麥克盧爾姐妹那輛小小的柳條車(chē)。趕車(chē)的是費(fèi)思小姐，她的臉板得像石頭似的，她的牙齒至少又一次給嘴唇包了起來(lái)，霍妮小姐的臉像死灰一樣蒼白，她挺直腰坐在費(fèi)思身邊，緊緊抓住妹妹的裙子。她們都顯得很老了。她們的弟弟達(dá)拉斯是她們的寶貝，也是這兩位老處女在世界上的親人。但是達(dá)拉斯死了。
“媚蘭！媚蘭！"梅貝爾喊道，聲音顯得很快活。"雷內(nèi)沒(méi)事！還有艾希禮，啊，感謝上帝！"這時(shí)披肩已從她肩上掉下來(lái)，她那大肚子再明顯不過(guò)了。但是這一次無(wú)論梅里韋瑟太太或者她自己都沒(méi)去管它。"啊，米德太太！雷內(nèi)----"說(shuō)到這里，她的聲音突然變了，"媚蘭，你瞧！-—米德太太，請(qǐng)看呀！達(dá)西是不是----？"米德太太正垂著兩眼在凝望自己的衣襟，聽(tīng)到有人叫她也沒(méi)有抬起頭來(lái)，不過(guò)小費(fèi)爾坐在旁邊，只要看看他的表情便一切都明白了。
“唔，媽，媽，"他可憐巴巴地說(shuō)。米德太太抬起頭來(lái)，正好觸到媚蘭的目光。
“現(xiàn)在他不需要靴子了�！�
“啊，親愛(ài)的！"媚蘭驚叫一聲，哭泣起來(lái)，一面把皮蒂姑媽推到思嘉肩上，爬下馬車(chē)，向大夫太太的馬車(chē)走去。
“媽，你還有我呢，"費(fèi)爾無(wú)可奈何地極力安慰身旁臉色蒼白的老太太。"只要你同意，我就去把所有的北方佬都?xì)⒌?---”“不！"米德太在哽咽著說(shuō)，一面緊緊抓住他的胳臂，好像決不放它了似的。
“費(fèi)爾·米德，你就別說(shuō)了！"媚蘭輕聲勸阻他，一面爬進(jìn)馬車(chē)，在米德太太身旁坐下，抱她摟在懷里。接著，她才繼續(xù)對(duì)費(fèi)爾說(shuō)：“你覺(jué)得要是你也走了，犧牲了，這對(duì)你媽有幫助嗎？從沒(méi)聽(tīng)說(shuō)過(guò)這種傻話。還不快趕車(chē)把我們送回家去！”費(fèi)爾抓起韁繩，這時(shí)媚蘭又回過(guò)頭去對(duì)思嘉說(shuō)話。
“你把姑媽送到家里，請(qǐng)馬上到米德太太家來(lái)。巴特勒船長(zhǎng)，你能不能給大夫捎個(gè)信去？他在醫(yī)院里呢。"馬車(chē)從紛紛四散的人群中出發(fā)了。有些高興得哭泣，但大多數(shù)是受到沉重打擊后還沒(méi)有明白過(guò)來(lái)，仍然目瞪口呆地站在那里。思嘉低著頭在看那張模糊的名單，飛快地讀著，看有哪些熟人的名字。既然艾希禮已經(jīng)沒(méi)事了，她就可以想想別的人了。啊，這名單好長(zhǎng)呀！亞特蘭大和全佐治亞付出了多大的犧牲��！
我的天！"卡爾弗特----雷福德，中尉。"雷福！她忽然記起很久前那一天，當(dāng)時(shí)他們一起逃走了，可到傍晚又決定回家來(lái)，因?yàn)樗麄凁I了，而且害怕天黑了。
“方丹----約瑟夫，列兵。"很壞的小個(gè)兒?jiǎn)�！可薩剛生了孩子還沒(méi)復(fù)元呢！
“芒羅----拉斐特，上尉。"拉斐同凱瑟琳·卡爾弗特訂婚了，可憐的凱瑟琳呀！她這是雙重的犧牲，兄弟加未婚夫。
不過(guò)薩莉更慘，是兄弟加丈夫。
她幾乎不敢再念下去，啊，這太可怕了。皮蒂姑媽伏在她肩上唉聲嘆氣，思嘉不怎么禮貌地把她推開(kāi)，讓她靠在馬車(chē)的一個(gè)角落里，自己繼續(xù)念名單。
當(dāng)然，當(dāng)然----不可能有三個(gè)叫"塔爾頓"的名字在上面�；蛟S----或許排字工人太匆忙，誤將名字排重了�？墒�，不，他們真在這里。"塔爾頓----布倫特，中尉�！薄八栴D- ---斯圖爾特，下士�！薄八栴D----托瑪斯，列兵。"還有博伊德，戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)頭一年就死了，也不知埋在弗吉尼亞什么地方。塔爾頓家的幾個(gè)小伙子都完了。湯姆和那對(duì)懶惰的長(zhǎng)腳孿生兄弟，都喜愛(ài)聊天，喜歡開(kāi)荒謬的玩笑，博伊德很會(huì)跳舞，嘴厲害得像只黃蜂，如今都完了！
她再也念不下去了，她不知道別的小伙子，那些跟她一起長(zhǎng)大、一起跳舞、彼此調(diào)情和親吻過(guò)的小伙子，還有沒(méi)有人被列在這份名單上。她真想痛哭一場(chǎng)，設(shè)法使那卡住她喉嚨的鐵爪放松一點(diǎn)。
“思嘉，我很為你難過(guò)，"瑞德說(shuō)。她抬頭望著他，都忘記他還在那里了。"里面有許多是你的朋友嗎？”她點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，勉強(qiáng)說(shuō)：“幾乎這個(gè)縣里的每一家和所有----塔爾頓家所有的三個(gè)小伙子----"眼睛里沒(méi)有那種嘲諷的意味了。他臉色平靜而略顯憂郁。
“可是名單還沒(méi)完呢，"他說(shuō)，"這僅僅是頭一批，不是全部。明天還有一張更長(zhǎng)的單子。"他放低聲音，不讓旁邊馬車(chē)?yán)锏娜寺?tīng)見(jiàn)。"思嘉，李將軍一定是打了敗仗，我在司令部聽(tīng)說(shuō)他已撤回到馬里蘭了。"她驚恐地朝他望著，但她害怕的不是李的失敗。明天還有更長(zhǎng)的傷亡名單呀！明天。她可沒(méi)有想到明天，只不過(guò)一見(jiàn)艾希禮的名字不在上面就樂(lè)起來(lái)了。明天，怎么，他可能現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)死了，而她要到明天才會(huì)知道，也許還要等到一星期以后呢。
“唔，瑞德，為什么一定要打仗呢？要是當(dāng)初讓北方佬去付錢(qián)贖買(mǎi)黑人----或者就由我們把黑人免費(fèi)交給他們，免得發(fā)生這場(chǎng)戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)，那不是會(huì)好得多嗎？”“思嘉，問(wèn)題不在黑人，那只是借口罷了。戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)之所以常常發(fā)生，就是因?yàn)槿藗兿矚g戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)，女人不喜歡，可是男人喜歡戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)，勝過(guò)喜歡女人�！彼滞嶂菑堊煨ζ饋�(lái)，臉上不再有嚴(yán)肅的神色了。他把頭上那頂巴拿馬帽摘下來(lái)向上舉了舉。
“再見(jiàn)。我得去找米德大夫了。我想，他兒子的死訊由我這個(gè)人去告訴他，這頗有諷刺意味，只是他目前不會(huì)感覺(jué)到這一點(diǎn)。不過(guò)日后，當(dāng)他想一個(gè)投機(jī)商居然向他轉(zhuǎn)達(dá)了一位英雄犧牲的消息，大概是要恨恨不已的。"思嘉讓皮蒂姑媽服了一杯甜酒后，在床上躺下，留下百里茜和廚娘服伺她，自己便出門(mén)到米德大夫家去了。米德太太由費(fèi)爾陪著在樓上等丈夫回來(lái)，媚蘭坐在客廳里跟幾個(gè)來(lái)慰問(wèn)的鄰居低聲談話，她同時(shí)在忙著干針線活兒，修改一件喪服，那是埃爾太太借給米德太太的。這時(shí)屋里已充滿了用家制黑顏料煮染衣服的辛辣味兒，因?yàn)閺N師在廚房正一面啜泣一面攪動(dòng)泡在大鍋里的所有米德太太的衣裳。
“她現(xiàn)在怎么樣？"思嘉小聲問(wèn)。
“一滴眼淚也沒(méi)有。"媚蘭說(shuō)。"女人流不出眼淚才可怕呢。
我不知道男人怎么忍得住不哭一聲，我猜想大概男人比女人堅(jiān)強(qiáng)和勇敢一些，她說(shuō)她要親自到賓夕法尼亞去把他領(lǐng)回家來(lái)。大夫是離不開(kāi)醫(yī)院的�！薄澳菍�(duì)她太可怕了！為什么費(fèi)爾不能去呀？”“她怕他一離開(kāi)她就會(huì)去加入軍隊(duì)，軍隊(duì)里現(xiàn)在連十六歲的人也要呢。你瞧他年紀(jì)雖小可個(gè)兒長(zhǎng)得那么大。"鄰居們因?yàn)椴幌肟创蠓蚧貋?lái)時(shí)的情景，便一個(gè)個(gè)陸續(xù)離開(kāi)了，只剩下思嘉和媚蘭兩人留在客廳里縫衣服。媚蘭盡管忍不住傷心，眼淚一滴滴落在手中的活計(jì)上，但顯得還算鎮(zhèn)靜。她顯然沒(méi)有想到戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)可能還在進(jìn)行，艾希禮或許就在此刻犧牲了。思嘉滿懷恐懼，不知道應(yīng)不應(yīng)該把瑞德的話告訴媚蘭，好叫她分擔(dān)這驚疑莫定的痛苦，或者暫時(shí)瞞著她，自己一個(gè)人兜著。最后她決定保持沉默，如果讓媚蘭覺(jué)得她太為艾希禮擔(dān)憂了，那總歸是不合適的。她感謝上帝，那天上午包括媚蘭和皮蒂在內(nèi)，人人都陷在各自的憂慮中，無(wú)心去注意她的表現(xiàn)了。
她們靜靜地縫了一會(huì)兒，忽然聽(tīng)見(jiàn)外面有聲音，便從簾縫中窺望，看見(jiàn)米德大夫正從馬背上下來(lái)。耷拉著腦袋，他垂著兩肩，滿臉胡須像扇子似的掛在胸前。他慢慢走進(jìn)屋來(lái)，放下帽子和提包，默默地吻了吻兩位姑娘，然后拖著疲乏的身子上樓去。一會(huì)兒費(fèi)爾下來(lái)了，他的腿和胳臂又瘦又長(zhǎng)，顯得那么笨拙。媚蘭和思嘉都示意讓他坐在身邊，可是他徑直向前廊走去，在那兒的臺(tái)階上坐下，雙手捧著頭一聲不響。
媚蘭長(zhǎng)嘆一聲。
“因?yàn)樗麄儾蛔屗ゴ虮崩�，他給氣瘋了，才十五歲呀！
啊，思嘉，要是有這樣一個(gè)兒子，倒是好極了！”“好叫他去送死嗎？”思嘉沒(méi)好氣地說(shuō)，同時(shí)想起了達(dá)西。
“有一個(gè)兒子，哪怕他給打死了，也比沒(méi)有兒子強(qiáng)。"媚蘭說(shuō)著又哽咽起來(lái)�！蹦憷斫獠涣�，思嘉，這是因?yàn)槟阌辛诵№f德，可我呢----啊，思嘉，我多么想要一個(gè)兒子呀！我知道，你覺(jué)得我不該公然說(shuō)出這句話來(lái)，但這是真的，每個(gè)女人都需要，而且你也明白這一點(diǎn)。"思嘉竭力控制住自己，才沒(méi)有對(duì)她嗤之以鼻。
“萬(wàn)一上帝想連艾希禮也----也不放過(guò)，我想我是忍受得住的，盡管我寧愿跟他一起死。不過(guò)上帝會(huì)給我力量來(lái)忍受。
可是，如果他死了，我又沒(méi)有一個(gè)他的兒子來(lái)安慰我，那我就受不了啦。啊，思嘉，你多幸運(yùn)呀！雖然你失去了查理，可是你有他的兒子。可要是艾希禮沒(méi)了，我就什么也沒(méi)有了。思嘉，請(qǐng)?jiān)徫遥矣袝r(shí)候真對(duì)你十分妒忌呢----”“妒忌----我？"思嘉吃驚地問(wèn)，一種負(fù)疚感突然襲上心頭。
“因?yàn)槟阌袃鹤樱晌覜](méi)有呀！我有時(shí)甚至把韋德當(dāng)作是自己的兒子。你不知道，沒(méi)有兒子可真不好受呢！”“簡(jiǎn)直胡扯！"思嘉覺(jué)得放心了，才故意這樣說(shuō)她。同時(shí)朝這個(gè)紅著臉低頭縫紉的小個(gè)兒匆匆瞧了一眼。媚蘭大概很想要孩子了，可是她這個(gè)兒子肯定是生不出來(lái)的。她比一個(gè)十二歲的孩子高不了多少，臀部也窄得像個(gè)孩子一般，胸脯更是平板板的。一想到媚蘭也會(huì)有孩子，思嘉便覺(jué)得很不舒服，這會(huì)引起許許多多她無(wú)法對(duì)付的想法來(lái)。她怎么受得了呢！如果媚蘭真的跟艾希禮生了個(gè)孩子，那就像是從思嘉身上奪走了什么似的。
“請(qǐng)?jiān)徫艺f(shuō)了那些關(guān)于韋德的話。你知道這多么愛(ài)他。
你沒(méi)有生我的氣吧？”
“別傻了，"她不耐煩地說(shuō)，"快到外面走廊上去安慰安慰費(fèi)爾。他在哭呢�！�
