Margaret Munnerlyn Mitchell - Gone with the Wind / Унесённые ветром. Уровень 3

Melanie opened her eyes and, seeing Scarlett, whispered:

«Dear… are we home?»

Home! Hot tears came to Scarlett’s eyes at the word. Home. Melanie did not know there was no home and that they were alone in a mad and desolate world.

«Not yet», she said gently, «but we will be, soon. I’ve just found a cow and soon we’ll have some milk for you and the baby».

«Poor baby», whispered Melanie.

The horse started slowly. The wagon was creaking and the cow was lowing mournfully at every step. At last, they reached the hill. Tara lay behind it! But the decrepit animal will never go up the hill with the heavy load.

She dismounted and took the animal by the bridle.

«Get out, Prissy», she commanded, «and take Wade. Lay the baby by Miss Melanie».

Wade began to sob and whimper: «Dark… dark… Wade frightened!»

«Miss Scarlett, I can’t walk. And I’m not heavy».

«Get out! Get out before I pull you out! Quick, now!»

Prissy moaned. But she laid the baby beside Melanie, scrambled to the ground and lifted Wade out. The little boy sobbed.

«Hush. I can’t stand it», said Scarlett. «Be a little man, Wade, and stop crying».

Why had God invented children, she thought savagely. Useless, crying nuisances they were, always demanding care, always in the way. In her exhaustion, there was no room for compassion for the frightened child.

She turned the horse’s head into the driveway. Straining her eyes she saw ahead… or did she see? Home! Home! The dear white walls, the windows with the curtains, the wide verandas.

She pulled the horse forward faster. The white walls showed there through the darkness. Home! She dropped the bridle and ran. Then she saw the blackness of the front veranda. Tara was not deserted. Someone was home!

A cry of joy rose to her throat and died there. The house was dark and still and the figure did not move or call to her. What was wrong? Then the figure moved. Stiffly and slowly, it came down the steps.

«Pa?» she whispered huskily. «It’s me… Scarlett. I’ve come home».

Gerald moved toward her, silent as a sleepwalker. He came close to her and looked at her as if he believed she was part of a dream. He laid his hand on her shoulder. It was trembling.

«Daughter», he said with an effort. «Daughter».

Then he was silent.

“Why… he’s an old man!” thought Scarlett.

In Gerald’s face, there was none of the virility, the restless vitality of Gerald. He was only a little old man.

«It’s Melanie and her baby», whispered Scarlett rapidly. «She’s very ill… I brought her home».

Gerald dropped his hand from her arm and straightened his shoulders. He moved slowly to the wagon.

«Cousin Melanie!»

Melanie’s voice murmured indistinctly.

«Cousin Melanie, this is your home. Twelve Oaks is burned. You must stay with us».

«She can’t walk», said Scarlett.

Another dark figure emerged from the cave of the hall. Pork ran down the steps.

«Miss Scarlett! Miss Scarlett!» he cried.

Scarlett caught him by the arms.

Prissy burst into tears: «Pork! Pork, honey!»

Little Wade began sniffling: «Wade is thirsty!»

«Miss Melanie is in the wagon and her baby too”, – said Scarlett. “Pork, you must carry her upstairs very carefully and put her in the room. Prissy, take the baby and Wade inside and give Wade a drink of water. Is Mammy here, Pork?»

«Did they get well, Pa?» asked Scarlett.

«The girls are recovering», said Gerald «Your mother… «he said and stopped.

«And… Mother?»

«Your mother died yesterday».

Scarlett doesn’t feel anything now, nothing except weariness and hunger that made her knees tremble. She will think of Mother later.

«Lights?» she questioned. «Why is the house so dark, Pork? Bring candles».

«They took all the candles, Miss Scarlett, all except one, and it’s about gone».

«Bring what’s left of the candle», she ordered. «Bring it into Mother’s… into the office».

Scarlett groped her way into the inky small room and sank down on the sofa. Her father’s arm still lay in hers, helpless, appealing, trusting.

«He’s an old man, an old tired man», she thought again.

«Pork, how many darkies are here?»

«Miss Scarlett, they ran away and some of them went off with the Yankees».

«How many are left?»

«Me, Miss Scarlett, and Mammy. And Dilcey. Three of us, Miss Scarlett».

«Three of us» where there had been a hundred.

«Pork, I’m starving. Is there anything to eat?»

«No, ma’am. They took everything».

«But the garden?»

«Nothing».

«Even the sweet potato hills?»

«Miss Scarlett, I forgot about yams. The Yankee never seed yams».

«You go out and dig us some and roast them».

«Pork… I… I feel so faint. Is there any wine in the cellar?»

«No, Miss Scarlett».

«Pork, what of the corn whisky Pa buried in the oak barrel under the summer-house?»

A smile lit the black face, a smile of pleasure and respect.

«Miss Scarlett, you remember! I forgot about it. But, Miss Scarlett, that whisky is not good. Not good for ladies».

How stupid negroes were! And the Yankees wanted to free them.

«It’ll be good enough for this lady and for Pa. Hurry, Pork, dig it up and bring us two glasses and some mint and sugar».

«Miss Scarlett, you know we have no sugar. And the horses ate up all the mint. And they broke all the glasses».

If he says «they» once more, I’ll scream, she thought, and then, aloud: «Well, hurry and get the whisky, quickly».

And, as he turned: «Wait, Pork. I brought home a horse and a cow and the cow needs milking, badly, and unharness the horse and water him. Go tell Mammy to look after the cow. Miss Melanie’s baby will die if he doesn’t get something to eat and…»

«Miss Melly has no…?» Pork paused delicately.

«Miss Melanie has no milk».

«Well, Miss Scarlett, my Dilcey has got lot of milk».

«You’ve got a new baby, Pork?»

Babies, babies, babies. Why did God make so many babies? But no, God didn’t make them. Stupid people made them.

«Yes ma’am, big fat black boy».

«Go tell Dilcey to nurse Miss Melanie’s baby and do what she can for Miss Melanie. Tell Mammy to look after the cow and put that poor horse in the stable».

«No stable, Miss Scarlett. They used it for firewood».

«Don’t tell me any more what ‘they’ did. Pork, go dig up that whisky and then some potatoes».

«But, Miss Scarlett, how can I dig? No light».

«You can use a stick of firewood, can’t you?»

«No firewood. They…»

«Do something! I don’t care what. But dig those things and dig them fast. Now, hurry».

Scarlett was left alone with Gerald. She patted his leg gently.

«Why didn’t they burn Tara?» Scarlett asked.

Gerald stared at her for a moment she repeated her question.

«Why… «he fumbled, «they used the house as a headquarters».

«Yankees… in this house?»

This house, sacred because Ellen had lived in it, and those… those… in it.

«So they were, Daughter. We saw the smoke from Twelve Oaks, across the river, before they came. But Miss Honey and Miss India and some of their darkies had refugeed to Macon, so we did not worry about them. But we couldn’t go to Macon. The girls were so sick… your mother… we couldn’t go. Our darkies ran… I do not know where. They stole the wagons and the mules. Mammy and Dilcey and Pork… they didn’t run. The girls… your mother… we couldn’t move them».

«Yes, yes». He mustn’t talk about Mother.

«The Yankees were moving on Jonesboro, to cut the railroad. And they came up the road from the river… thousands and thousands… and cannon and horses… thousands. I met them on the front porch».