Margaret Munnerlyn Mitchell - Gone with the Wind / Унесённые ветром

Having the laced dress on, Scarlett obediently sat down before the tray, wondering if she would be able to get any food into her stomach and still have room to breathe.

“I wish to Heaven I was married. I’m tired of being unnatural and never doing anything I want to do. I’m tired of acting like I don’t eat more than a bird, and walking when I want to run and saying I feel faint after a waltz, when I could dance for two days and never get tired. I’m tired of saying, ‘How wonderful you are!’ to fool men, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t know anything, so men can tell me things and feel important while they’re doing it.”

The carriage was taking Scarlett and her sisters down the red road toward the Wilkes plantation. Gerald rode beside the carriage on his big hunter, warm with brandy and pleased with himself that he had dismissed Jonas Wilkerson that morning so speedily. He was happy, pleasantly excited over the prospect of spending the day shouting about the Yankees and the war, and proud of his three pretty daughters. He gave no thought to his conversation of the day before with Scarlett, for it had completely slipped his mind. He only thought that she was pretty and a great credit to him and that, today, her eyes were as green as the hills of Ireland.

Scarlett, looking at him, knew that he would be very drunk by sundown. Coming home in the dark, he would try, as usual, to jump every fence between Twelve Oaks and Tara and, she hoped, would escape breaking his neck. He would ruin his new gray suit and tell Ellen how his horse fell off the bridge in the darkness – a lie which would fool no one.

Scarlett felt so excited and happy this morning that she included the whole world, as well as Gerald, in her affection. She was pretty and she knew it; she would have Ashley for her own before the day was over; the sun was warm and tender and the glory of the Georgia spring was spread before her eyes.

“I’ll remember how beautiful this day is till I die,” thought Scarlett. “Perhaps it will be my wedding day!”

And she thought how she and Ashley might ride swiftly through this beauty of blossom and greenery this very afternoon, or tonight by moonlight, toward Jonesboro and a preacher. Of course, she would have to be remarried by a priest from Atlanta. She knew Ellen would be shocked at hearing that her daughter had eloped with another girl’s fiancé but would forgive her when she saw her happiness. And Gerald would scold and bawl but finally he would be pleased at a union between his family and the Wilkes.

“But that’ll be something to worry about after I’m married,” she thought, waving the worry away from her.

As they neared the intersecting road, the sound of hooves and carriage wheels became heard and feminine voices sounded from behind the trees. Gerald, riding ahead, pulled up his horse and signed to Toby to stop the carriage where the two roads met.

“’Tis the Tarleton ladies,” he announced to his daughters, smiling, for excepting Ellen there was no lady in the County he liked more than the red-haired Mrs. Tarleton. “And ’tis herself at the reins. Ah, there’s a woman with fine hands for a horse!”

He stood up in his stirrups and took off his hat, as the Tarleton carriage, filled with girls in bright dresses and parasols came into view, with Mrs. Tarleton on the box as Gerald had said. With her four daughters, their mammy and their ball dresses in long cardboard boxes, there was no room for the coachman. And, besides, Beatrice Tarleton never willingly permitted anyone, black or white, to hold reins. She had borne eight children, as red of hair and as full of life as she, and had raised them most successfully, because she gave them all the loving neglect and the stern discipline she gave the colts she bred.

She loved horses and talked horses constantly. She understood them and handled them better than any man in the County.

She waved her whip when she saw Gerald and stopped the horses. To a casual observer it would seem that years had passed since the Tarletons had seen the O’Haras, instead of only two days. But they were a sociable family and liked their neighbors, especially the O’Hara girls. That is, they liked Suellen and Carreen. No girl in the County really liked Scarlett.

“That’s a fine bevy, Ma’m,” said Gerald gallantly. “But it’s far they’ll go to beat their mother.”

Mrs. Tarleton rolled her red-brown eyes in appreciation, and the girls cried, “Ma, stop making eyes or we’ll tell Pa!” “I vow, Mr. O’Hara, she never gives us a chance when there’s a handsome man like you around!”

Scarlett laughed with the rest at these jokes but, as always, the freedom with which the Tarletons treated their mother came as a shock. They acted as if she were one of themselves and not a day over sixteen. To Scarlett, the very idea of saying such things to her own mother was impossible. And yet – and yet – there was something very pleasant about the Tarleton girls’ relations with their mother.

“Where’s Ellen this morning?” asked Mrs. Tarleton.

“She stayed home to go over the accounts with the dismissed overseer. Where’s himself and the lads?”

“Oh, they rode over to Twelve Oaks hours ago – to sample the punch and see if it was strong enough, I dare say! I’m going to ask John Wilkes to keep them overnight, even if he has to bed them down in the stable. Five drunk men are just too much for me. Up to three, I do very well but —”

Gerald hastily interrupted to change the subject. And he was glad when Mrs. Tarleton did it.

“My girls have been so excited,” said Mrs. Tarleton, “ever since we heard the news this morning about Ashley and that little cousin of his from Atlanta. What’s her name? Melanie? Bless the child, she’s a sweet little thing. Everybody’s known for years that Ashley would marry her. Just like Honey Wilkes is going to marry Melanie’s brother, Charles. Now, tell me, Mr. O’Hara, is it illegal for the Wilkes to marry outside of their family? Because if —”

Scarlett did not hear the rest of the words. For one short instant, it was as though the sun had ducked behind a cloud, leaving the world in shadow, taking the color out of things. The freshly green foliage looked faded and dreary. Scarlett dug her fingers into the upholstery of the carriage. It was one thing to know that Ashley was engaged but it was another to hear people talk about it so casually. Then her courage floated back and the sun came out again. She knew Ashley loved her. That was certain. And she smiled as she thought how surprised Mrs. Tarleton would be when no engagement was announced that night – how surprised if there were an elopement.

“I don’t care what you say, Mr. O’Hara,” Mrs. Tarleton was saying emphatically. “It’s all wrong, this marrying of cousins. It’s bad enough for Ashley to be marrying the Hamilton child. Cousins shouldn’t marry, even second cousins. It weakens the strain. It isn’t like horses. In people it just doesn’t work. You —”

“Now, Ma’m, I disagree with you on that! Can you name me better people than the Wilkes? And they’ve been intermarrying since long ago.”

“And high time they stopped it, for it’s beginning to show. Oh, not Ashley so much, for he’s a good-looking devil, though even he – But look at those two washed-out-looking Wilkes girls, poor things! Nice girls, of course, but washed out. And look at little Miss Melanie. Thin as a rail [18] худая как щепка and delicate enough for the wind to blow away and no spirit at all. Not a notion of her own. ‘No, Ma’m!’ ‘Yes, Ma’m!’ That’s all she has to say. You see what I mean? That family needs new blood, fine vigorous blood like my red heads or your Scarlett. Now, don’t misunderstand me. The Wilkes are fine folks in their way, and you know I’m fond of them all, but be frank! I believe the stamina has been bred out of them. And their intermarrying has made them different from other folks around here. Always fiddling with the piano or sticking their heads in a book. I do believe Ashley would rather read than hunt! And just look at the bones on them. Too slender.