Gone with the Wind. Volume 2 / Унесенные ветром. Том 2. Маргарет Митчелл

if there's one virtue I value in women it's frankness. But no, you had to come jingling your earbobs and pouting and frisking like a prostitute with a prospective client.”

      He did not raise his voice at the last words or emphasize them in any way but to Scarlett they cracked like a whiplash, and with despair she saw the end of her hopes of getting him to propose marriage. Had he exploded with rage and injured vanity or upbraided her, as other men would have done, she could have handled him. But the deadly quietness of his voice frightened her, left her utterly at a loss as to her next move. Although he was a prisoner and the Yankees were in the next room, it came to her suddenly that Rhett Butler was a dangerous man to run afoul of.

      “I suppose my memory is getting faulty. I should have recalled that you are just like me and that you never do anything without an ulterior motive. Now, let me see. What could you have had up your sleeve, Mrs. Hamilton? It isn't possible that you were so misguided as to think I would propose matrimony?”

      Her face went crimson and she did not answer.

      “But you can't have forgotten my oft-repeated remark that I am not a marrying man?”

      When she did not speak, he said with sudden violence:

      “You hadn't forgotten? Answer me.”

      “I hadn't forgotten,” she said wretchedly.

      “What a gambler you are, Scarlett,” he jeered. “You took a chance that my incarceration away from female companionship would put me in such a state I'd snap at you like a trout at a worm.”

      And that's what you did, thought Scarlett with inward rage, and if it hadn't been for my hands-

      “Now, we have most of the truth, everything except your reason. See if you can tell me the truth about why you wanted to lead me into wedlock.”

      There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice and she took heart. Perhaps everything wasn't lost, after all. Of course, she had ruined any hope of marriage but, even in her despair, she was glad. There was something about this immobile man which frightened her, so that now the thought of marrying him was fearful. But perhaps if she was clever and played on his sympathies and his memories, she could secure a loan. She pulled her face into a placating and childlike expression.

      “Oh, Rhett, you can help me so much-if you'll just be sweet.”

      “There's nothing I like better than being-sweet.”

      “Rhett, for old friendship's sake, I want you to do me a favor.”

      “So, at last the horny-handed lady comes to her real mission. I feared that 'visiting the sick and the imprisoned' was not your proper role. What do you want? Money?”

      The bluntness of his question ruined all hopes of leading up to the matter in any circuitous and sentimental way.

      “Don't be mean, Rhett,” she coaxed. “I do want some money. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars.”

      “The truth at last. Talking love and thinking money. How truly feminine! Do you need the money badly?”

      “Oh, ye- Well, not so terribly but I could use it.”

      “Three hundred dollars. That's a vast amount of money. What do you want it for?”

      “To pay taxes on Tara.”

      “So you want to borrow some money. Well, since you're so businesslike, I'll be businesslike too. What collateral will you give me?”

      “What what?”

      “Collateral. Security on my investment. Of course, I don't want to lose all that money.” His voice was deceptively smooth, almost silky, but she did not notice. Maybe everything would turn out nicely after all.

      “My earrings.”

      “I'm not interested in earrings.”

      “I'll give you a mortgage on Tara.”

      “Now just what would I do with a farm?”

      “Well, you could-you could-it's a good plantation. And you wouldn't lose. I'd pay you back out of next year's cotton.”

      “I'm not so sure.” He tilted back in his chair and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Cotton prices are dropping. Times are so hard and money's so tight.”

      “Oh, Rhett, you are teasing me! You know you have millions!”

      There was a warm dancing malice in his eyes as he surveyed her.

      “So everything is going nicely and you don't need the money very badly. Well, I'm glad to hear that. I like to know that all is well with old friends.”

      “Oh, Rhett, for God's sake…” she began desperately, her courage and control breaking.

      “Do lower your voice. You don't want the Yankees to hear you, I hope. Did anyone ever tell you you had eyes like a cat-a cat in the dark?”

      “Rhett, don't! I'll tell you everything. I do need the money so badly. I–I lied about everything being all right. Everything's as wrong as it could be. Father is-is-he's not himself. He's been queer ever since Mother died and he can't help me any. He's just like a child. And we haven't a single field hand to work the cotton and there's so many to feed, thirteen of us. And the taxes-they are so high. Rhett, I'll tell you everything. For over a year we've been just this side of starvation. Oh, you don't know! You can't know! We've never had enough to eat and it's terrible to wake up hungry and go to sleep hungry. And we haven't any warm clothes and the children are always cold and sick and-”

      “Where did you get the pretty dress?”

      “It's made out of Mother's curtains,” she answered, too desperate to lie about this shame. “I could stand being hungry and cold but now-now the Carpetbaggers have raised our taxes. And the money's got to be paid right away. And I haven't any money except one five-dollar gold piece. I've got to have money for the taxes! Don't you see? If I don't pay them, I'll-we'll lose Tara and we just can't lose it! I can't let it go!”

      “Why didn't you tell me all this at first instead of preying on my susceptible heart-always weak where pretty ladies are concerned? No, Scarlett, don't cry. You've tried every trick except that one and I don't think I could stand it. My feelings are already lacerated with disappointment at discovering it was my money and not my charming self you wanted.”

      She remembered that he frequently told bald truths about himself when he spoke mockingly-mocking himself as well as others, and she hastily looked up at him. Were his feelings really hurt? Did he really care about her? Had he been on the verge of a proposal when he saw her palms? Or had he only been leading up to another such odious proposal as he had made twice before? If he really cared about her, perhaps she could smooth him down. But his black eyes raked her in no lover-like way and he was laughing softly.

      “I don't like your collateral. I'm no planter. What else have you to offer?”

      Well, she had come to it at last. Now for it! She drew a deep breath and met his eyes squarely, all coquetry and airs gone as her spirit rushed out to grapple that which she feared most.

      “I–I have myself.”

      “Yes?”

      Her jaw line tightened to squareness and her eyes went emerald.

      “You remember that night on Aunt Pitty's porch, during the siege? You said-you said then that you wanted me.”

      He leaned back carelessly in his chair and looked into her tense face and his own dark face was inscrutable. Something flickered behind his eyes but he said nothing.

      “You said-you said you'd never wanted a woman as much as you wanted me. If you still want me, you can have me. Rhett, I'll do anything you say but, for God's sake, write me a draft for the money! My word's good. I swear it. I won't go back on it. I'll put it in writing if you like.”

      He looked at her oddly, still inscrutable and as she hurried on she could not tell if he were amused or repelled. If he would only say something, anything! She felt her cheeks getting hot.

      “I have got to have the money soon, Rhett. They'll turn us out