先讀課文﹕
Gong With the Wind 飄
by Margaret Mitchell
Chapter 1
Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught
by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended
the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent,
and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face,
pointed of chin, square of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch
of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends.
Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique
line in her magnolia-white skin -- that skin so prized by Southern women
and so carefully guarded with bonnets, veils and mittens against hot Georgia
suns.
Seated with Stuart and Brent Tarleton in the cool shade of the porch of
Tara, her father's plantation, that bright April afternoon of 1861, she
made a pretty picture. Her new green flowered-muslin dress spread its twelve
yards of billowing material over her hoops and exactly matched the flat-heeled
green morocco slippers her father had recently brought her from Atlanta.
The dress set off to perfection the seventeen-inch waist, the smallest in
three counties, and the tightly fitting basque showed breasts well matured
for her sixteen years. But for all the modesty of her spreading skirts,
the demureness of hair netted smoothly into a chignon and the quietness
of small white hands folded in her lap, her true self was poorly concealed.
The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty
with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners
had been imposed upon her by her mother's gentle admonitions and the sterner
discipline of her mammy; her eyes were her own.
On either side of her, the twins lounged easily in their chairs, squinting
at the sunlight through tall mint-garnished glasses as they laughed and
talked, their long legs, booted to the knee and thick with saddle muscles,
crossed negligently. Nineteen years old, six feet two inches tall, long of
bone and hard of muscle, with sunburned faces and deep auburn hair, their
eyes merry and arrogant, their bodies clothed in identical blue coats and
mustard-colored breeches, they were as much alike as two bolls of cotton.
Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted down in the yard, throwing into
gleaming brightness the dogwood trees that were solid masses of white blossoms
against the background of new green. The twins' horses were hitched in the
driveway, big animals, red as their masters' hair; and around the horses'
legs quarreled the pack of lean, nervous possum hounds that accompanied
Stuart and Brent wherever they went. A little aloof, as became an aristocrat,
lay a black-spotted carriage dog, muzzle on paws, patiently waiting for
the boys to go home to supper.
Between the hounds and the horses and the twins there was a kinship deeper
than that of their constant companionship. They were all healthy, thoughtless
young animals, sleek, graceful, high-spirited, the boys as mettlesome as
the horses they rode, mettlesome and dangerous but, withal, sweet-tempered
to those who knew how to handle them.
Although born to the ease of plantation life, waited on hand and foot since
infancy, the faces of the three on the porch were neither slack nor soft.
They had the vigor and alertness of country people who have spent all their
lives in the open and troubled their heads very little with dull things
in books. Life in the north Georgia county of Clayton was still new and,
according to the standards of Augusta, Savannah and Charleston, a little
crude. The more sedate and older sections of the South looked down their
noses at the up-country Georgians, but here in north Georgia, a lack of
the niceties of classical education carried no shame, provided a man was
smart in the things that mattered. And raising good cotton, riding well,
shooting straight, dancing lightly, squiring the ladies with elegance and
carrying one's liquor like a gentleman were the things that mattered.
In these accomplishments the twins excelled, and they were equally outstanding
in their notorious inability to learn anything contained between the covers
of books. Their family had more money, more horses, more slaves than any
one else in the County, but the boys had less grammar than most of their
poor Cracker neighbors.
It was for this precise reason that Stuart and Brent were idling on the
porch of Tara this April afternoon. They had just been expelled from the
University of Georgia, the fourth university that had thrown them out in
two years; and their older brothers, Tom and Boyd, had come home with them,
because they refused to remain at an institution where the twins were not
welcome. Stuart and Brent considered their latest expulsion a fine joke,
and Scarlett, who had not willingly opened a book since leaving the Fayetteville
Female Academy the year before, thought it just as amusing as they did.
"I know you two don't care about being expelled, or Tom either," she said.
"But what about Boyd? He's kind of set on getting an education, and you
two have pulled him out of the University of Virginia and Alabama and South
Carolina and now Georgia. He'll never get finished at this rate."
"Oh, he can read law in Judge Parmalee's office over in Fayetteville," answered
Brent carelessly. "Besides, it don't matter much. We'd have had to come
home before the term was out anyway."
"Why?"
"The war, goose! The war's going to start any day, and you don't suppose
any of us would stay in college with a war going on, do you?"
"You know there isn't going to be any war," said Scarlett, bored. "It's
all just talk. Why, Ashley Wilkes and his father told Pa just last week
that our commissioners in Washington would come to -- to --an -- amicable
agreement with Mr. Lincoln about the Confederacy. And anyway, the Yankees
are too scared of us to fight. There won't be any war, and I'm tired of hearing
about it."
"Not going to be any war!" cried the twins indignantly, as though they had
been defrauded.
"Why, honey, of course there's going to be a war," said Stuart. "The Yankees
may be scared of us, but after the way General Beauregard shelled them out
of Fort Sumter day before yesterday, they'll have to fight or stand branded
as cowards before the whole world. Why, the Confederacy --"
Scarlett made a mouth of bored impatience.
"If you say 'war' just once more, I'll go in the house and shut the door.
I've never gotten so tired of any one word in my life as 'war', unless it's
'secession'. Pa talks war morning, noon and night, and all the gentlemen
who come to see him shout about Fort Sumter and States' Rights and Abe Lincoln
till I get so bored I could scream! And that's all the boys talk about, too,
that and their old Troop. There hasn't been any fun at any party this spring
because the boys can't talk about anything else. I'm mighty glad Georgia
waited till after Christmas before it seceded or it would have ruined the
Christmas parties, too. If you say 'war' again, I'll go in the house."
She meant what she said, for she could never long endure any conversation
of which she was not the chief subject. But she smiled when she spoke, consciously
deepening her dimple and fluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly
as butterflies' wings. The boys were enchanted, as she had intended them
to be, and they hastened to apologize for boring her. They thought none
the less of her for her lack of interest. Indeed, they thought more. War
was men's business, not ladies', and they took her attitude as evidence
of her femininity.
Having maneuvered them away from the boring subject of war, she went back
with interest to their immediate situation.
"What did your mother say about you two being expelled again?"
The boys looked uncomfortable, recalling their mother's conduct three months
ago when they had come home, by request, from the University of Virginia.
"Well," said Stuart, "she hasn't had a chance to say anything yet. Tom and
us left home early this morning before she got up, and Tom's laying out
over at the Fontaines' while we came over here."
"Didn't she say anything when you got home last night?"
"We were in luck last night. Just before we got home that new stallion Ma
got in Kentucky last month was brought in, and the place was in a stew.
The big brute -- he's a grand horse, Scarlett; you must tell your pa to
come over and see him right away -- he'd already bitten a hunk out of his
groom on the way down here and he'd trampled two of Ma's darkies who met
the train at Jone*****oro. And just before we got home, he'd about kicked the
stable down and half-killed Strawberry, Ma's old stallion. When we got home,
Ma was out in the stable with a sackful of sugar smoothing him down and
doing it mighty well, too. The darkies were hanging from the rafters, popeyed,
they were so scared, but Ma was talking to the horse like he was folks
and he was eating out of her hand. There ain't nobody 這是沒文化人用的錯誤
的雙重否定 like Ma with a horse. And when she saw us she said: 'In Heaven's
name, what are you four doing home again? You're worse than the plagues
of Egypt!' And then the horse began snorting and rearing and she said: 'Get
out of here! Can't you see he's nervous, the big darling? I'll tend to you
four in the morning!' So we went to bed, and this morning we got away before
she could catch us and left Boyd to handle her."
"Do you suppose she'll hit Boyd?" Scarlett, like the rest of the County,
could never get used to the way small Mrs. Tarleton bullied her grown sons
and laid her riding crop on their backs if the occasion seemed to warrant
it.
Beatrice Tarleton was a busy woman, having on her hands not only a large
cotton plantation, a hundred negroes and eight children, but the largest
horse-breeding farm in the state as well. She was hot-tempered and easily
plagued by the frequent scrapes of her four sons, and while no one was permitted
to whip a horse or a slave, she felt that a lick now and then didn't do the
boys any harm.
"Of course she won't hit Boyd. She never did beat Boyd much because he's
the oldest and besides he's the runt of the litter," said Stuart, proud
of his six feet two. "That's why we left him at home to explain things to
her. God'lmighty, Ma ought to stop licking us! We're nineteen and Tom's
twenty-one, and she acts like we're six years old."
"Will your mother ride the new horse to the Wilkes barbecue tomorrow?"
"She wants to, but Pa says he's too dangerous. And, anyway, the girls won't
let her. They said they were going to have her go to one party at least
like a lady, riding in the carriage."
"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," said Scarlett. "It's rained nearly every
day for a week. There's nothing worse than a barbecue turned into an indoor
picnic."
"Oh, it'll be clear tomorrow and hot as June," said Stuart. "Look at that
sunset. I never saw one redder. You can always tell weather by sunsets."
They looked out across the endless acres of Gerald O'Hara's newly plowed
cotton fields toward the red horizon. Now that the sun was setting in a
welter of crimson behind the hills across the Flint River, the warmth of
the April day was ebbing into a faint but balmy chill.
Spring had come early that year, with warm quick rains and sudden frothing
of pink peach blossoms and dogwood dappling with white stars the dark river
swamp and far-off hills. Already the plowing was nearly finished, and the
bloody glory of the sunset colored the fresh-cut furrows of red Georgia
clay to even redder hues. The moist hungry earth, waiting upturned for the
cotton seeds, showed pinkish on the sandy tops of furrows, vermilion and
scarlet and maroon where shadows lay along the sides of the trenches. The
whitewashed brick plantation house seemed an island set in a wild red sea,
a sea of spiraling, curving, crescent billows petrified suddenly at the
moment when the pink-tipped waves were breaking into surf. For here were
no long, straight furrows, such as could be seen in the yellow clay fields
of the flat middle Georgia country or in the lush black earth of the coastal
plantations. The rolling foothill country of north Georgia was plowed in
a million curves to keep the rich earth from washing down into the river
bottoms.
It was a savagely red land, blood-colored after rains, brick dust in droughts,
the best cotton land in the world. It was a pleasant land of white houses,
peaceful plowed fields and sluggish yellow rivers, but a land of contrasts,
of brightest sun glare and densest shade. The plantation clearings and miles
of cotton fields smiled up to a warm sun, placid, complacent. At their edges
rose the virgin forests, dark and cool even in the hottest noons, mysterious,
a little sinister, the soughing pines seeming to wait with an age-old patience,
to threaten with soft sighs: "Be careful! Be careful! We had you once.
We can take you back again."
To the ears of the three on the porch came the sounds of hooves, the jingling
of harness chains and the shrill careless laughter of negro voices, as the
field hands and mules came in from the fields. From within the house floated
the soft voice of Scarlett's mother, Ellen O'Hara, as she called to the
little black girl who carried her basket of keys. The high-pitched, childish
voice answered "Yas'm," and there were sounds of footsteps going out the
back way toward the smokehouse where Ellen would ration out the food to
the home-coming hands. There was the click of china and the rattle of silver
as Pork, the valet-butler of Tara, laid the table for supper.
At these last sounds, the twins realized it was time they were starting
home. But they were loath to face their mother and they lingered on the
porch of Tara, momentarily expecting Scarlett to give them an invitation
to supper.
"Look, Scarlett. About tomorrow," said Brent. "Just because we've been away
and didn't know about the barbecue and the ball, that's no reason why we
shouldn't get plenty of dances tomorrow night. You haven't promised them
all, have you?"
"Well, I have! How did I know you all would be home? I couldn't risk being
a wallflower just waiting on you two."
"You a wallflower!" The boys laughed uproariously.
"Look, honey. You've got to give me the first waltz and Stu the last one
and you've got to eat supper with us. We'll sit on the stair landing like
we did at the last ball and get Mammy Jincy to come tell our fortunes again."
"I don't like Mammy Jincy's fortunes. You know she said I was going to marry
a gentleman with jet-black hair and a long black mustache, and I don't like
black-haired gentlemen."
"You like 'em (them) red-headed, don't you, honey?" grinned Brent. "Now,
come on, promise us all the waltzes and the supper."
"If you'll promise, we'll tell you a secret," said Stuart.
"What?" cried Scarlett, alert as a child at the word.
"Is it what we heard yesterday in Atlanta, Stu? If it is, you know we promised
not to tell."
"Well, Miss Pitty told us."
"Miss Who?"
"You know, Ashley Wilkes' cousin who lives in Atlanta, Miss Pittypat Hamilton
-- Charles and Melanie Hamilton's aunt."
"I do, and a sillier old lady I never met in all my life."
"Well, when we were in Atlanta yesterday, waiting for the home train, her
carriage went by the depot and she stopped and talked to us, and she told
us there was going to be an engagement announced tomorrow night at the Wilkes
ball."
"Oh. I know about that," said Scarlett in disappointment. "That silly nephew
of hers, Charlie Hamilton, and Honey Wilkes. Everybody's known for years
that they'd get married some time, even if he did seem kind of lukewarm
about it."
"Do you think he's silly?" questioned Brent. "Last Christmas you sure let
him buzz round you plenty."
"I couldn't help him buzzing," Scarlett shrugged negligently. "I think he's
an awful sissy."
"Besides, it isn't his engagement that's going to be announced," said Stuart
triumphantly. "It's Ashley's to Charlie's sister, Miss Melanie!"
Scarlett's face did not change but her lips went white -- like a person
who has received a stunning blow without warning and who, in the first moments
of shock, does not realize what has happened. So still was her face as she
stared at Stuart that he, never analytic, took it for granted that she was
merely surprised and very interested.
"Miss Pitty told us they hadn't intended announcing it till next year, because
Miss Melly hasn't been very well; but with all the war talk going around,
everybody in both families thought it would be better to get married soon.
So it's to be announced tomorrow night at the supper intermission. Now,
Scarlett, we've told you the secret, so you've got to promise to eat supper
with us."
"Of course I will," Scarlett said automatically.
"And all the waltzes?"
"All."
"You're sweet! I'll bet the other boys will be hopping mad."
"Let 'em be mad," said Brent. "We two can handle 'em. Look, Scarlett. Sit
with us at the barbecue in the morning."
"What?"
Stuart repeated his request.
"Of course."
The twins looked at each other jubilantly but with some surprise. Although
they considered themselves Scarlett's favored suitors, they had never before
gained tokens of this favor so easily. Usually she made them beg and plead,
while she put them off, refusing to give a Yes or No answer, laughing if
they sulked, growing cool if they became angry. And here she had practically
promised them the whole of tomorrow -- seats by her at the barbecue, all
the waltzes (and they'd see to it that the dances were all waltzes!) and
the supper intermission. This was worth getting expelled from the university.
Filled with new enthusiasm by their success, they lingered on, talking about
the barbecue and the ball and Ashley Wilkes and Melanie Hamilton, interrupting
each other, making jokes and laughing at them, hinting broadly for invitations
to supper. Some time had passed before they realized that Scarlett was having
very little to say. The atmosphere had somehow changed. Just how, the twins
did not know, but the fine glow had gone out of the afternoon. Scarlett seemed
to be paying little attention to what they said, although she made the correct
answers. Sensing something they could not understand, baffled and annoyed
by it, the twins struggled along for a while, and then rose reluctantly,
looking at their watches.
The sun was low across the new-plowed fields and the tall woods across the
river were looming blackly in silhouette. Chimney swallows were darting
swiftly across the yard, and chickens, ducks and turkeys were waddling and
strutting and straggling in from the fields.
Stuart bellowed: "Jeems!" And after an interval a tall black boy of their
own age ran breathlessly around the house and out toward the tethered horses.
Jeems was their body servant and, like the dogs, accompanied them everywhere.
He had been their childhood playmate and had been given to the twins for
their own on their tenth birthday. At the sight of him, the Tarleton hounds
rose up out of the red dust and stood waiting expectantly for their masters.
The boys bowed, shook hands and told Scarlett they'd be over at the Wilkeses'
early in the morning, waiting for her. Then they were off down the walk
at a rush, mounted their horses and, followed by Jeems, went down the avenue
of cedars at a gallop, waving their hats and yelling back to her.
When they had rounded the curve of the dusty road that hid them from Tara,
Brent drew his horse to a stop under a clump of dogwood. Stuart halted,
too, and the darky boy pulled up a few paces behind them. The horses, feeling
slack reins, stretched down their necks to crop the tender spring grass,
and the patient hounds lay down again in the soft red dust and looked up
longingly at the chimney swallows circling in the gathering dusk. Brent's
wide ingenuous face was puzzled and mildly indignant.
"Look," he said. "Don't it look to you like she would of (have) asked us
to stay for supper?"
"I thought she would," said Stuart. "I kept waiting for her to do it, but
she didn't. What do you make of it?"
"I don't make anything of it. But it just looks to me like she might of.
After all, it's our first day home and she hasn't seen us in quite a spell.
And we had lots more things to tell her."
"It looked to me like she was mighty glad to see us when we came."
"I thought so, too."
"And then, about a half-hour ago, she got kind of quiet, like she had a
headache."
"I noticed that but I didn't pay it any mind then. What do you suppose ailed
her?"
"I dunno (don't know). Do you suppose we said something that made her mad?"
They both thought for a minute.
"I can't think of anything. Besides, when Scarlett gets mad, everybody knows
it. She don't hold herself in like some girls do."
"Yes, that's what I like about her. She don't go around being cold and hateful
when she's mad -- she tells you about it. But it was something we did or
said that made her shut up talking and look sort of sick. I could swear
she was glad to see us when we came and was aiming to ask us to supper."
"You don't suppose it's because we got expelled?"
"Hell, no! Don't be a fool. She laughed like everything when we told her
about it. And besides Scarlett don't set any more store by book learning
than we do."
Brent turned in the saddle and called to the negro groom.
"Jeems!"
"Suh (Sir)?" 表示沒文化人的發音不準。凡括弧註的﹐下同。
"You heard what we were talking to Miss Scarlett about?"
"Nawsuh (No, Sir), Mist' (Mister) Brent! Huccome you think Ah be spyin'
(spying) on w'ite (white) folks?"
"Spying, my God! You darkies know everything that goes on. Why, you liar,
I saw you with my own eyes sidle round the corner of the porch and squat
in the cape jessamine bush by the wall. Now, did you hear us say anything
that might have made Miss Scarlett mad -- or hurt her feelings?"
Thus appealed to, Jeems gave up further pretense of not having overheard
the conversation and furrowed his black brow.
"Nawsuh, Ah din' (didn't) notice y'all (ye all) say anything ter (to) mek
(make) her mad. Look ter me lak (like) she sho (so) glad ter see you an'
(and) sho had missed you, an' she cheep along happy as a bird, tell 'bout
(about) de (the) time y'all got ter talkin' 'bout Mist' Ashley an' Miss Melly
Hamilton gittin' (getting) mah'ied (married). Den (Then) she quiet down lak
a bird w'en (when) de hawk fly ober (over)."
The twins looked at each other and nodded, but without comprehension.
"Jeems is right. But I don't see why," said Stuart. "My Lord! Ashley don't
mean anything to her, 'cept (except) a friend. She's not crazy about him.
It's us she's crazy about."
Brent nodded an agreement.
"But do you suppose," he said, "that maybe Ashley hadn't told her he was
going to announce it tomorrow night and she was mad at him for not telling
her, an old friend, before he told everybody else? Girls set a big store
on knowing such things first."
"Well, maybe. But what if he hadn't told her it was tomorrow? It was supposed
to be a secret and a surprise, and a man's got a right to keep his own engagement
quiet, hasn't he? We wouldn't have known it if Miss Melly's aunt hadn't
let it out. But Scarlett must have known he was going to marry Miss Melly
sometime. Why, we've known it for years. The Wilkes and Hamiltons always
marry their own cousins. Everybody knew he'd probably marry her some day,
just like Honey Wilkes is going to marry Miss Melly's brother, Charles."
"Well, I give it up. But I'm sorry she didn't ask us to supper. I swear
I don't want to go home and listen to Ma take on about us being expelled.
It isn't as if this was the first time."
"Maybe Boyd will have smoothed her down by now. You know what a slick talker
that little varmint is. You know he always can smooth her down."
"Yes, he can do it, but it takes Boyd time. He has to talk around in circles
till Ma gets so confused that she gives up and tells him to save his voice
for his law practice. But he ain,t had time to get good started yet. Why,
I'll bet you Ma is still so excited about the new horse that she'll never
even realize we're home again till she sits down to supper tonight and sees
Boyd. And before supper is over she'll be going strong and breathing fire.
And it'll be ten o'clock before Boyd gets a chance to tell her that it wouldn'
t have been honorable for any of us to stay in college after the way the
Chancellor talked to you and me. And it'll be midnight before he gets her
turned around to where she's so mad at the Chancellor she'll be asking Boyd
why he didn't shoot him. No, we can't go home till after midnight."
The twins looked at each other glumly. They were completely fearless of
wild horses, shooting affrays and the indignation of their neighbors, but
they had a wholesome fear of their red-haired mother's outspoken remarks
and the riding crop that she did not scruple to lay across their breeches.
"Well, look," said Brent. "Let's go over to the Wilkes. Ashley and the girls'
ll be glad to have us for supper."
Stuart looked a little discomforted.
"No, don't let's go there. They'll be in a stew getting ready for the barbecue
tomorrow and besides -- "
"Oh, I forgot about that," said Brent hastily. "No, don't let's go there."
They clucked to their horses and rode along in silence for a while, a flush
of embarrassment on Stuart's brown cheeks. Until the previous summer, Stuart
had courted India Wilkes with the approbation of both families and the entire
County. The County felt that perhaps the cool and contained India Wilkes
would have a quieting effect on him. They fervently hoped so, at any rate.
And Stuart might have made the match, but Brent had not been satisfied. Brent
liked India but he thought her mighty plain and tame, and he simply could
not fall in love with her himself to keep Stuart company. That was the first
time the twins' interest had ever diverged, and Brent was resentful of his
brother's attentions to a girl who seemed to him not at all remarkable.
Then, last summer at a political speaking in a grove of oak trees at Jone*****oro,
they both suddenly became aware of Scarlett O'Hara. They had known her
for years, and, since their childhood, she had been a favorite playmate,
for she could ride horses and climb trees almost as well as they. But now
to their amazement she had become a grown-up young lady and quite the most
charming one in all the world.
They noticed for the first time how her green eyes danced, how deep her
dimples were when she laughed, how tiny her hands and feet and what a small
waist she had. Their clever remarks sent her into merry peals of laughter
and, inspired by the thought that she considered them a remarkable pair,
they fairly outdid themselves.
It was a memorable day in the life of the twins. Thereafter, when they talked
it over, they always wondered just why they had failed to notice Scarlett's
charms before. They never arrived at the correct answer, which was that
Scarlett on that day had decided to make them notice. She was constitutionally
unable to endure any man being in love with any woman not herself, and the
sight of India Wilkes and Stuart at the speaking had been too much for her
predatory nature. Not content with Stuart alone, she had set her cap for
Brent as well, and with a thoroughness that overwhelmed the two of them.
Now they were both in love with her, and India Wilkes and Letty Munroe,
from Lovejoy, whom Brent had been half-heartedly courting, were far in the
back of their minds. Just what the loser would do, should Scarlett accept
either one of them, the twins did not ask. They would cross that bridge
when they came to it. For the present they were quite satisfied to be in
accord again about one girl, for they had no jealousies between them. It
was a situation which interested the neighbors and annoyed their mother,
who had no liking for Scarlett.
"It will serve you right if that sly piece does accept one of you," she
said. "Or maybe she'll accept both of you, and then you'll have to move
to Utah, if the Mormons'll have you -- which I doubt. . . All that bothers
me is that some one of these days you're both going to get lickered up and
jealous of each other about that two-faced, little, green-eyed baggage, and
you'll shoot each other. But that might not be a bad idea either."
Since the day of the speaking, Stuart had been uncomfortable in India's
presence. Not that India ever reproached him or even indicated by look or
gesture that she was aware of his abruptly changed allegiance. She was too
much of a lady. But Stuart felt guilty and ill at ease with her. He knew
he had made India love him and he knew that she still loved him and, deep
in his heart, he had the feeling that he had not played the gentleman. He
still liked her tremendously and respected her for her cool good breeding,
her book learning and all the sterling qualities she possessed. But, damn
it, she was just so pallid and uninteresting and always the same, beside
Scarlett's bright and changeable charm. You always knew where you stood
with India and you never had the slightest notion with Scarlett. That was
enough to drive a man to distraction, but it had its charm.
"Well, let's go over to Cade Calvert's and have supper. Scarlett said Cathleen
was home from Charleston. Maybe she'll have some news about Fort Sumter
that we haven't heard."
"Not Cathleen. I'll lay you two to one she didn't even know the fort was
out there in the harbor, much less that it was full of Yankees until we
shelled them out. All she'll know about is the balls she went to and the
beaux she collected."
"Well, it's fun to hear her gabble. And it'll be somewhere to hide out till
Ma has gone to bed."
"Well, hell! I like Cathleen and she is fun and I'd like to hear about Caro
Rhett and the rest of the Charleston folks; but I'm damned if I can stand
sitting through another meal with that Yankee stepmother of hers."
"Don't be too hard on her, Stuart. She means well."
"I'm not being hard on her. I feel sorry for her, but I don't like people
I've got to feel sorry for. And she fusses around so much, trying to do
the right thing and make you feel at home, that she always manages to say
and do just exactly the wrong thing. She gives me the fidgets! And she thinks
Southerners are wild barbarians. She even told Ma so. She's afraid of Southerners.
Whenever we're there she always looks scared to death. She reminds me of
a skinny hen perched on a chair, her eyes kind of bright and blank and scared,
all ready to flap and squawk at the slightest move anybody makes."
"Well, you can't blame her. You did shoot Cade in the leg."
"Well, I was lickered up or I wouldn't have done it," said Stuart. "And
Cade never had any hard feelings. Neither did Cathleen or Raiford or Mr.
Calvert. It was just that Yankee stepmother who squalled and said I was
a wild barbarian and decent people weren't safe around uncivilized Southerners.
"
"Well, you can't blame her. She's a Yankee and ain't got very good manners;
and, after all, you did shoot him and he is her stepson."
"Well, hell! That's no excuse for insulting me! You are Ma's own blood son,
but did she take on that time Tony Fontaine shot you in the leg? No, she
just sent for old Doc Fontaine to dress it and asked the doctor what ailed
Tony's aim. Said she guessed licker was spoiling his marksmanship. Remember
how mad that made Tony?"
Both boys yelled with laughter.
"Ma's a card!" said Brent with loving approval. "You can always count on
her to do the right thing and not embarrass you in front of folks."
"Yes, but she's mighty liable to talk embarrassing in front of Father and
the girls when we get home tonight," said Stuart gloomily. "Look, Brent.
I guess this means we don't go to Europe. You know Mother said if we got
expelled from another college we couldn't have our Grand Tour."
"Well, hell! We don't care, do we? What is there to see in Europe? I'll
bet those foreigners can't show us a thing we haven't got right here in
Georgia. I'll bet their horses aren't as fast or their girls as pretty,
and I know damn well they haven't got any rye whisky that can touch Father's."
"Ashley Wilkes said they had an awful lot of scenery and music. Ashley liked
Europe. He's always talking about it."
"Well -- you know how the Wilkes are. They are kind of queer about music
and books and scenery. Mother says it's because their grandfather came from
Virginia. She says Virginians set quite a store by such things."
"They can have 'em. Give me a good horse to ride and some good licker to
drink and a good girl to court and a bad girl to have fun with and anybody
can have their Europe. . . What do we care about missing the Tour? Suppose
we were in Europe now, with the war coming on? We couldn't get home soon
enough. I'd heap rather go to a war than go to Europe."
"So would I, any day. . . Look, Brent! I know where we can go for supper.
Let's ride across the swamp to Abel Wynder's place and tell him we're all
four home again and ready for drill."
"That's an idea!" cried Brent with enthusiasm. "And we can hear all the
news of the Troop and find out what color they finally decided on for the
uniforms."
"If it's Zouave, I'm damned if I'll go in the troop. I'd feel like a sissy
in those baggy red pants. They look like ladies' red flannel drawers to
me."
"Is y'all aimin' ter go ter Mist' Wynder's? 'Cause ef (if) you is, you ain'
gwine git (get) much supper," said Jeems. "Dey (They=their) cook done died,
an' dey ain' (ain't) bought a new one. Dey got a fe'el (female) han' (hand)
cookin', an' de niggers tells me she is de wustest (worstest=worst) cook
in de state."
"Good God! Why don't they buy another cook?"
"Huccome (how come) po' (poor) w'ite trash buy any niggers? Dey ain' never
owned mo'n (none) fo' (for) at de mostes'."
There was frank contempt in Jeems' voice. His own social status was assured
because the Tarletons owned a hundred negroes and, like all slaves of large
planters, he looked down on small farmers whose slaves were few.
"I'm going to beat your hide off for that," cried Stuart fiercely. Don't
you call Abel Wynder 'po' white.' Sure he's poor, but he ain't trash; and
I'm damned if I'll have any man, darky or white, throwing off on him. There
ain't a better man in this County, or why else did the Troop elect him lieutenant?"
"Ah (I) ain' never figgered (figured) dat (that) out, mahseff (myself),"
replied Jeems, undisturbed by his master's scowl. "Look ter me lak dey'd
'lect (elect) all de awficers (officers) frum (from) rich gempmum (gentlemen)
, 'stead (instead) of swamp trash."
"He ain't trash! Do you mean to compare him with real white trash like the
Slatterys? Able just ain't rich. He's a small farmer, not a big planter,
and if the boys thought enough of him to elect him lieutenant, then it's
not for any darky to talk impudent about him. The Troop knows what it's
doing."
The troop of cavalry had been organized three months before, the very day
that Georgia seceded from the Union, and since then the recruits had been
whistling for war. The outfit was as yet unnamed, though not for want of
suggestions. Everyone had his own idea on that subject and was loath to
relinquish it, just as everyone had ideas about the color and cut of the
uniforms. "Clayton Wild Cats," "Fire Eaters," "North Georgia Hussars," "Zouaves,
" "The Inland Rifles" (although the Troop was to be armed with pistols,
sabers and bowie knives, and not with rifles), "The Clayton Grays," "The
Blood and Thunderers," "The Rough and Readys," all had their adherents.
Until matters were settled, everyone referred to the organization as the
Troop and, despite the high-sounding name finally adopted, they were known
to the end of their usefulness simply as "The Troop."
The officers were elected by the members, for no one in the County had had
any military experience except a few veterans of the Mexican and Seminole
wars and, besides, the Troop would have scorned a veteran as a leader if
they had not personally liked him and trusted him. Everyone liked the four
Tarleton boys and the three Fontaines, but regretfully refused to elect them,
because the Tarletons got lickered up too quickly and liked to skylark,
and the Fontaines had such quick, murderous tempers. Ashley Wilkes was elected
captain, because he was the best rider in the County and because his cool
head was counted on to keep some semblance of order. Raiford Calvert was
made first lieutenant, because everybody liked Raif, and Able Wynder, son
of a swamp trapper, himself a small farmer, was elected second lieutenant.
Abel was a shrewd, grave giant, illiterate, kind of heart, older than the
other boys and with as good or better manners in the presence of ladies.
There was little snobbery in the Troop. Too many of their fathers and grandfathers
had come up to wealth from the small farmer class for that. Moreover, Able
was the best shot in the Troop, a real sharpshooter who could pick out the
eye of a squirrel at seventy-five yards, and, too, he knew all about living
outdoors, building fires in the rain, tracking animals and finding water.
The Troop bowed to real worth and moreover, because they liked him, they
made him an officer. He bore the honor gravely and with no untoward conceit,
as though it were only his due. But the planters' ladies and the planters'
slaves could not overlook the fact that he was not born a gentleman, even
if their men folks could.
In the beginning, the Troop had been recruited exclusively from the sons
of planters, a gentleman's outfit, each man supplying his own horse, arms,
equipment, uniform and body servant. But rich planters were few in the young
county of Clayton, and, in order to muster a full-strength troop, it had
been necessary to raise more recruits among the sons of small farmers, hunters
in the backwoods, swamp trappers, Crackers and, in a very few cases, even
poor whites, if they were above the average of their class.
These latter young men were as anxious to fight the Yankees, should war
come, as were their richer neighbors; but the delicate question of money
arose. Few small farmers owned horses. They carried on their farm operations
with mules and they had no surplus of these, seldom more than four. The
mules could not be spared to go off to war, even if they had been acceptable
for the Troop, which they emphatically were not. As for the poor whites,
they considered themselves well off if they owned one mule. The backwoods
folks and the swamp dwellers owned neither horses nor mules. They lived
entirely off the produce of their lands and the game in the swamp, conducting
their business generally by the barter system and seldom seeing five dollars
in cash a year, and horses and uniforms were out of their reach. But they
were as fiercely proud in their poverty as the planters were in their wealth,
and they would accept nothing that smacked of charity from their rich neighbors.
So, to save the feelings of all and to bring the Troop up to full strength,
Scarlett's father, John Wilkes, Buck Munroe, Jim Tarleton, Hugh Calvert,
in fact every large planter in the County with the one exception of Angus
MacIntosh, had contributed money to completely outfit the Troop, horse and
man. The upshot of the matter was that every planter agreed to pay for equipping
his own sons and a certain number of the others, but the manner of handling
the arrangements was such that the less wealthy members of the outfit could
accept horses and uniforms without offense to their honor.
The Troop met twice a week in Jone*****oro to drill and to pray for the war
to begin. Arrangements had not yet been completed for obtaining the full
quota of horses, but those who had horses performed what they imagined to
be cavalry maneuvers in the field behind the courthouse, kicked up a great
deal of dust, yelled themselves hoarse and waved the Revolutionary-war swords
that had been taken down from parlor walls. Those who, as yet, had no horses
sat on the curb in front of Bullard's store and watched their mounted comrades,
chewed tobacco and told yarns. Or else engaged in shooting matches. There
was no need to teach any of the men to shoot. Most Southerners were born
with guns in their hands, and lives spent in hunting had made marksmen of
them all.
From planters' homes and swamp cabins, a varied array of firearms came to
each muster. There were long squirrel guns that had been new when first
the Alleghenies were crossed, old muzzle-loaders that had claimed many an
Indian when Georgia was new, horse pistols that had seen service in 1812,
in the Seminole wars and in Mexico, silver-mounted dueling pistols, pocket
derringers, double-barreled hunting pieces and handsome new rifles of English
make with shining stocks of fine wood.
Drill always ended in the saloons of Jone*****oro, and by nightfall so many
fights had broken out that the officers were hard put to ward off casualties
until the Yankees could inflict them. It was during one of these brawls
that Stuart Tarleton had shot Cade Calvert and Tony Fontaine had shot Brent.
The twins had been at home, freshly expelled from the University of Virginia,
at the time the Troop was organized and they had joined enthusiastically;
but after the shooting episode, two months ago, their mother had packed
them off to the state university, with orders to stay there. They had sorely
missed the excitement of the drills while away, and they counted education
well lost if only they could ride and yell and shoot off rifles in the company
of their friends.
"Well, let's cut across country to Abel's," suggested Brent. "We can go
through Mr. O'Hara's river bottom and the Fontaine's pasture and get there
in no time."
"We ain' gwine git nothin' ter eat 'cept possum an' greens," argued Jeems.
"You ain't going to get anything," grinned Stuart. "Because you are going
home and tell Ma that we won't be home for supper."
"No, Ah ain'!" cried Jeems in alarm. "No, Ah ain!" Ah doan (don't) git no
mo'(more) fun outer havin' Miss Beetriss lay me out dan (than) y'all does.
Fust (First) place she'll ast (ask) me huccome Ah let y'all git expelled
agin (again). An' nex' thing, huccome Ah din' bring y'all home ternight
(tonight) so she could lay you out. An' den she'll light on me lak a duck
on a June bug, an' fust thing Ah know Ah'll be ter blame fer (for) it all.
Ef (If) y'all doan tek (take) me ter Mist' Wynder's, Ah'll lay out in de
woods all night an' maybe de patterollers (patrollers) git me, 'cause Ah
heap (hope) ruther (rather) de patterollers git me dan Miss Beetriss when
she in a state."
The twins looked at the determined black boy in perplexity and indignation.
"He'd be just fool enough to let the patterollers get him and that would
give Ma something else to talk about for weeks. I swear, darkies are more
trouble. Sometimes I think the Abolitionists have got the right idea."
"Well, it wouldn't be right to make Jeems face what we don't want to face.
We'll have to take him. But, look, you impudent black fool, if you put on
any airs in front of the Wynder darkies and hint that we all the time have
fried chicken and ham, while they don't have nothing but rabbit and possum,
I'll -- I'll tell Ma. And we won't let you go to the war with us, either."
"Airs? Me put on airs fo' dem cheap niggers? Nawsuh, Ah got better manners.
Ain' Miss Beetriss taught me manners same as she taught y'all?"
"She didn't do a very good job on any of the three of us," said Stuart.
"Come on, let's get going."
He backed his big red horse and then, putting spurs to his side, lifted
him easily over the split rail fence into the soft field of Gerald O'Hara's
plantation. Brent's horse followed and then Jeems', with Jeems clinging
to pommel and mane. Jeems did not like to jump fences, but he had jumped
higher ones than this in order to keep up with his masters.
As they picked their way across the red furrows and down the hill to the
river bottom in the deepening dusk, Brent yelled to his brother:
"Look, Stu! Don't it seem like to you that Scarlett WOULD have asked us
to supper?"
"I kept thinking she would," yelled Stuart. "Why do you suppose . . .?"
1) 自查生詞。
2) 作者介紹﹕Margaret Munnerlyn Mitchell (November 8, 1900 -- August 16,
1949) was an American author and journalist. She won the Pulitzer Prize
for Fiction in 1937 for her epic American Civil War era novel, Gone with
the Wind, the only novel by Mitchell published during her lifetime. It
is a romance novel, set in Clayton County, Georgia and Atlanta during the
American Civil War and Reconstruction. The novel depicts the experiences
of Scarlett O'Hara, the spoiled daughter of a well-to-do plantation owner,
who must use every means at her disposal to come out of the poverty that
she finds herself in after Sherman's March to the Sea. The book is the source
of the 1939 film of the same name.
3) 英文小說裡經常有把發音不正確的詞按不正確的發音拼寫出來。也經常用’來表
示省去了一個字母。
4) “飄”也是一部世界名著﹐反映了美國南北戰爭期間的場景。可作泛讀材料。此
小說已改變成電影。讀者可以在網上找到全書閱讀。
选择“Disable on www.wenxuecity.com”
选择“don't run on pages on this domain”
