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

should have so little. She hated him, sitting there in his dandified attire, taunting her. Well, she wouldn't swell his conceit by complimenting him on his cleverness. She longed viciously for sharp words with which to cut him.

      “I suppose you think it's honest to keep the Confederate money. Well, it isn't. It's plain out and out stealing and you know it. I wouldn't have that on my conscience.”

      “My! How sour the grapes are today!” he exclaimed, screwing up his face. “And just whom am I stealing from?”

      She was silent, trying to think just whom indeed. After all, he had only done what Frank had done on a small scale.

      “Half the money is honestly mine,” he continued, “honestly made with the aid of honest Union patriots who were willing to sell out the Union behind its back-for one-hundred-per-cent profit on their goods. Part I made out of my little investment in cotton at the beginning of the war, the cotton I bought cheap and sold for a dollar a pound when the British mills were crying for it. Part I got from food speculation. Why should I let the Yankees have the fruits of my labor? But the rest did belong to the Confederacy. It came from Confederate cotton which I managed to run through the blockade and sell in Liverpool at sky-high prices. The cotton was given me in good faith to buy leather and rifles and machinery with. And it was taken by me in good faith to buy the same. My orders were to leave the gold in English banks, under my own name, in order that my credit would be good. You remember when the blockade tightened, I couldn't get a boat out of any Confederate port or into one, so there the money stayed in England. What should I have done? Drawn out all that gold from English banks, like a simpleton, and tried to run it into Wilmington? And let the Yankees capture it? Was it my fault that the blockade got too tight? Was it my fault that our Cause failed? The money belonged to the Confederacy. Well, there is no Confederacy now-though you'd never know it, to hear some people talk. Whom shall I give the money to? The Yankee government? I should so hate for people to think me a thief.”

      He removed a leather case from his pocket, extracted a long cigar and smelled it approvingly, meanwhile watching her with pseudo anxiety as if he hung on her words.

      Plague take him, she thought, he's always one jump ahead of me. There is always something wrong with his arguments but I never can put my finger on just what it is.

      “You might,” she said with dignity, “distribute it to those who are in need. The Confederacy is gone but there are plenty of Confederates and their families who are starving.”

      He threw back his bead and laughed rudely.

      “You are never so charming or so absurd as when you are airing some hypocrisy like that,” he cried in frank enjoyment. “Always tell the truth, Scarlett. You can't lie. The Irish are the poorest liars in the world. Come now, be frank. You never gave a damn about the late lamented Confederacy and you care less about the starving Confederates. You'd scream in protest if I even suggested giving away all the money unless I started off by giving you the lion's share.”

      “I don't want your money,” she began, trying to be coldly dignified.

      “Oh, don't you! Your palm is itching to beat the band this minute. If I showed you a quarter, you'd leap on it.”

      “If you have come here to insult me and laugh at my poverty, I will wish you good day,” she retorted, trying to rid her lap of the heavy ledger so she might rise and make her words more impressive. Instantly, he was on his feet bending over her, laughing as he pushed her back into her chair.

      “When will you ever get over losing your temper when you hear the truth? You never mind speaking the truth about other people, so why should you mind hearing it about yourself? I'm not insulting you. I think acquisitiveness is a very fine quality.”

      She was not sure what acquisitiveness meant but as he praised it she felt slightly mollified.

      “I didn't come to gloat over your poverty but to wish you long life and happiness in your marriage. By the way, what did sister Sue think of your larceny?”

      “My what?”

      “Your stealing Frank from under her nose.”

      “I did not-”

      “Well, we won't quibble about the word. What did she say?”

      “She said nothing,” said Scarlett. His eyes danced as they gave her the lie.

      “How unselfish of her. Now, let's hear about your poverty. Surely I have the right to know, after your little trip out to the jail not long ago. Hasn't Frank as much money as you hoped?”

      There was no evading his impudence. Either she would have to put up with it or ask him to leave. And now she did not want him to leave. His words were barbed but they were the barbs of truth. He knew what she had done and why she had done it and he did not seem to think the less of her for it. And though his questions were unpleasantly blunt, they seemed actuated by a friendly interest. He was one person to whom she could tell the truth. That would be a relief, for it had been so long since she had told anyone the truth about herself and her motives. Whenever she spoke her mind everyone seemed to be shocked. Talking to Rhett was comparable only to one thing, the feeling of ease and comfort afforded by a pair of old slippers after dancing in a pair too tight.

      “Didn't you get the money for the taxes? Don't tell me the wolf is still at the door of Tara.” There was a different tone in his voice.

      She looked up to meet his dark eyes and caught an expression which startled and puzzled her at first, and then made her suddenly smile, a sweet and charming smile which was seldom on her face these days. What a perverse wretch he was, but how nice he could be at times! She knew now that the real reason for his call was not to tease her but to make sure she had gotten the money for which she had been so desperate. She knew now that he had hurried to her as soon as he was released, without the slightest appearance of hurry, to lend her the money if she still needed it. And yet he would torment and insult her and deny that such was his intent, should she accuse him. He was quite beyond all comprehension. Did he really care about her, more than he was willing to admit? Or did he have some other motive? Probably the latter, she thought. But who could tell? He did such strange things sometimes.

      “No,” she said, “the wolf isn't at the door any longer. I–I got the money.”

      “But not without a struggle, I'll warrant. Did you manage to restrain yourself until you got the wedding ring on your finger?”

      She tried not to smile at his accurate summing up of her conduct but she could not help dimpling. He seated himself again, sprawling his long legs comfortably.

      “Well, tell me about your poverty. Did Frank, the brute, mislead you about his prospects? He should be soundly thrashed for taking advantage of a helpless female. Come, Scarlett, tell me everything. You should have no secrets from me. Surely, I know the worst about you.”

      “Oh, Rhett, you're the worst-well, I don't know what! No, he didn't exactly fool me but-” Suddenly it became a pleasure to unburden herself. “Rhett, if Frank would just collect the money people owe him, I wouldn't be worried about anything. But, Rhett, fifty people owe him and he won't press them. He's so thin skinned. He says a gentleman can't do that to another gentleman. And it may be months and may be never before we get the money.”

      “Well, what of it? Haven't you enough to eat on until he does collect?”

      “Yes, but-well, as a matter of fact, I could use a little money right now.” Her eyes brightened as she thought of the mill. “Perhaps-”

      “What for? More taxes?”

      “Is that any of your business?”

      “Yes, because you are getting ready to touch me for a loan. Oh, I know all the approaches. And I'll lend it to you-without, my dear Mrs. Kennedy, that charming collateral you offered me a short while ago. Unless, of course, you insist.”

      “You are the coarsest-”

      “Not at all. I merely wanted to set your mind at ease. I knew you'd be worried about that point. Not much worried but a little. And I'm willing to lend you the money. But I do want to know how you are going to spend it. I have that right, I believe. If it's