Gone with the Wind: Chapters 17–30

The ladies smiled approvingly, for his lightest utterance was regarded as incontrovertible truth.

His voice was still soft and filled with specious humility.

Why should he accede to General Johnston?

Swearing, sweating men hauled the heavy guns up the precipitous slopes, for mules could not climb the hillsides.

They bellowed pleasedly at the badinage.

But for all their apparent insouciance in the face of falling shells and shorter rations, for all their ignoring the Yankees, barely half a mile away, and for all their boundless confidence in the ragged line of gray men in the rifle pits, there pulsed, just below the skin of Atlanta, a wild uncertainty over what the next day would bring.

Sometimes a cultured voice came from the shadows: "Madam, my abject apologies for disturbing you, but could I have water for myself and my horse?"

Evidently he had forgotten the contretemps, or pretended to have forgotten it, for he settled himself on the top step at her feet without mention of their late difference.

She had heard that note in men's voices often enough to know that it presaged a declaration of love.

Finally a courier came up from Jonesboro with the reassuring news that the Yankees had been beaten back. But they had made a sortie into Jonesboro, burned the depot, cut the telegraph wires and torn up three miles of track before they retreated.

Scarlett looked down at Melanie's tiny hips with none too sanguine hopes but said reassuringly: "Oh, it's not really so bad."

When she had finished it, a measure of strength came back to her and with the strength came again the pricking of fear. She could hear a humming of noise far down the street, but what it portended she did not know.

Poor Mammy, still the martinet about such unimportant things even though war and death had just passed over her head!

Her tongue was furred and her throat parched as if flames had scorched it and no amount of water could assuage her thirst.

She had forgotten the trinkets she had intended to hide and, with a sneer which she hoped was as eloquent as that pictured on Grandma Robillard's face, she flung the articles to the floor and almost enjoyed the rapacious scramble that ensued.