minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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His voice still held a remnant of its wonted cool drawl but beneath
the words she could feel violence fighting its way to the surface,
violence as cruel as the crack of a whip. She wavered irresolutely
and he was at her side, his hand on her arm in a grip that hurt.
He gave it a slight wrench and she hastily sat down with a little
cry of pain. Now, she was afraid, more afraid than she had ever
been in her life. As he leaned over her, she saw that his face was
dark and flushed and his eyes still held their frightening glitter.
There was something in their depths she did not recognize, could
not understand, something deeper than anger, stronger than pain,
something driving him until his eyes glowed redly like twin coals.
He looked down at her for a long time, so long that her defiant
gaze wavered and fell, and then he slumped into a chair opposite
her and poured himself another drink. She thought rapidly, trying
to lay a line of defenses. But until he spoke, she would not know
what to say for she did not know exactly what accusation he
intended to make.

He drank slowly, watching her over the glass and she tightened her
nerves, trying to keep from trembling. For a time his face did not
change its expression but finally he laughed, still keeping his
eyes on her, and at the sound she could not still her shaking.

"It was an amusing comedy, this evening, wasn't it?"

She said nothing, curling her toes in the loose slippers in an
effort at controlling her quivering.

"A pleasant comedy with no character missing. The village assembled
to stone the erring woman, the wronged husband supporting his wife
as a gentleman should, the wronged wife stepping in with Christian
spirit and casting the garments of her spotless reputation over it
all. And the lover--"

"Please."

"I don't please. Not tonight. It's too amusing. And the lover
looking like a damned fool and wishing he were dead. How does it
feel, my dear, to have the woman you hate stand by you and cloak
your sins for you? Sit down."

She sat down.

"You don't like her any better for it, I imagine. You are
wondering if she knows all about you and Ashley--wondering why she
did this if she does know--if she just did it to save her own face.
And you are thinking she's a fool for doing it, even if it did save
your hide but--"

"I will not listen--"

"Yes, you will listen. And I'll tell you this to ease your worry.
Miss Melly is a fool but not the kind you think. It was obvious
that someone had told her but she didn't believe it. Even if she
saw, she wouldn't believe. There's too much honor in her to
conceive of dishonor in anyone she loves. I don't know what lie
Ashley Wilkes told her--but any clumsy one would do, for she loves
Ashley and she loves you. I'm sure I can't see why she loves you
but she does. Let that be one of your crosses."

"If you were not so drunk and insulting, I would explain
everything," said Scarlett, recovering some dignity. "But now--"

"I am not interested in your explanations. I know the truth better
than you do. By God, if you get up out of that chair just once
more--

"And what I find more amusing than even tonight's comedy is the
fact that while you have been so virtuously denying me the
pleasures of your bed because of my many sins, you have been
lusting in your heart after Ashley Wilkes. 'Lusting in your
heart.' That's a good phrase, isn't it? There are a number of
good phrases in that Book, aren't there?"

"What book? What book?" her mind ran on, foolishly, irrelevantly
as she cast frantic eyes about the room, noting how dully the
massive silver gleamed in the dim light, how frighteningly dark the
corners were.

"And I was cast out because my coarse ardors were too much for your
refinement--because you didn't want any more children. How bad
that made me feel, dear heart! How it cut me! So I went out and
found pleasant consolation and left you to your refinements. And
you spent that time tracking the long-suffering Mr. Wilkes. God
damn him, what ails him? He can't be faithful to his wife with his
mind or unfaithful with his body. Why doesn't he make up his mind?
You wouldn't object to having his children, would you--and passing
them off as mine?"

She sprang to her feet with a cry and he lunged from his seat,
laughing that soft laugh that made her blood cold. He pressed her
back into her chair with large brown hands and leaned over her.

"Observe my hands, my dear," he said, flexing them before her eyes.
"I could tear you to pieces with them with no trouble whatsoever
and I would do it if it would take Ashley out of your mind. But it
wouldn't. So I think I'll remove him from your mind forever, this
way. I'll put my hands, so, on each side of your head and I'll
smash your skull between them like a walnut and that will blot him
out."

His voice still held a remnant of its wonted cool drawl but beneath

the words she could feel violence fighting its way to the surface,

violence as cruel as the crack of a whip. She wavered irresolutely

and he was at her side, his hand on her arm in a grip that hurt.

He gave it a slight wrench and she hastily sat down with a little

cry of pain. Now, she was afraid, more afraid than she had ever

been in her life. As he leaned over her, she saw that his face was

dark and flushed and his eyes still held their frightening glitter.

There was something in their depths she did not recognize, could

not understand, something deeper than anger, stronger than pain,

something driving him until his eyes glowed redly like twin coals.

He looked down at her for a long time, so long that her defiant

gaze wavered and fell, and then he slumped into a chair opposite

her and poured himself another drink. She thought rapidly, trying

to lay a line of defenses. But until he spoke, she would not know

what to say for she did not know exactly what accusation he

intended to make.

He drank slowly, watching her over the glass and she tightened her

nerves, trying to keep from trembling. For a time his face did not

change its expression but finally he laughed, still keeping his

eyes on her, and at the sound she could not still her shaking.

"It was an amusing comedy, this evening, wasn't it?"

She said nothing, curling her toes in the loose slippers in an

effort at controlling her quivering.

"A pleasant comedy with no character missing. The village assembled

to stone the erring woman, the wronged husband supporting his wife

as a gentleman should, the wronged wife stepping in with Christian

spirit and casting the garments of her spotless reputation over it

all. And the lover--"

"Please."

"I don't please. Not tonight. It's too amusing. And the lover

looking like a damned fool and wishing he were dead. How does it

feel, my dear, to have the woman you hate stand by you and cloak

your sins for you? Sit down."

She sat down.

"You don't like her any better for it, I imagine. You are

wondering if she knows all about you and Ashley--wondering why she

did this if she does know--if she just did it to save her own face.

And you are thinking she's a fool for doing it, even if it did save

your hide but--"

"I will not listen--"

"Yes, you will listen. And I'll tell you this to ease your worry.

Miss Melly is a fool but not the kind you think. It was obvious

that someone had told her but she didn't believe it. Even if she

saw, she wouldn't believe. There's too much honor in her to

conceive of dishonor in anyone she loves. I don't know what lie

Ashley Wilkes told her--but any clumsy one would do, for she loves

Ashley and she loves you. I'm sure I can't see why she loves you

but she does. Let that be one of your crosses."

"If you were not so drunk and insulting, I would explain

everything," said Scarlett, recovering some dignity. "But now--"

"I am not interested in your explanations. I know the truth better

than you do. By God, if you get up out of that chair just once

more--

"And what I find more amusing than even tonight's comedy is the

fact that while you have been so virtuously denying me the

pleasures of your bed because of my many sins, you have been

lusting in your heart after Ashley Wilkes. 'Lusting in your

heart.' That's a good phrase, isn't it? There are a number of

good phrases in that Book, aren't there?"

"What book? What book?" her mind ran on, foolishly, irrelevantly

as she cast frantic eyes about the room, noting how dully the

massive silver gleamed in the dim light, how frighteningly dark the

corners were.

"And I was cast out because my coarse ardors were too much for your

refinement--because you didn't want any more children. How bad

that made me feel, dear heart! How it cut me! So I went out and

found pleasant consolation and left you to your refinements. And

you spent that time tracking the long-suffering Mr. Wilkes. God

damn him, what ails him? He can't be faithful to his wife with his

mind or unfaithful with his body. Why doesn't he make up his mind?

You wouldn't object to having his children, would you--and passing

them off as mine?"

She sprang to her feet with a cry and he lunged from his seat,

laughing that soft laugh that made her blood cold. He pressed her

back into her chair with large brown hands and leaned over her.

"Observe my hands, my dear," he said, flexing them before her eyes.

"I could tear you to pieces with them with no trouble whatsoever

and I would do it if it would take Ashley out of your mind. But it

wouldn't. So I think I'll remove him from your mind forever, this

way. I'll put my hands, so, on each side of your head and I'll

smash your skull between them like a walnut and that will blot him

out."