静かな撤退

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Somehow Melanie made her way to the center of the excited throng and somehow made her usually soft voice heard above the tumult. Her heart was in her throat with fright at daring to address the indignant gathering and her voice shook but she kept crying: “Ladies! Please!” till the din died down.
　“I want to say—I mean, I’ve thought for a long time that—that not only should we pull up the weeds but we should plant flowers on— I—I don’t care what you think but every time I go to take flowers to dear Charlie’s grave, I always put some on the grave of an unknown Yankee which is near by. It—it looks so forlorn!”
　The excitement broke out again in louder words and this time the two organizations merged and spoke as one.
　“On Yankee graves! Oh, Melly, how could you! “And they killed Charlie!” “They almost killed you!” “Why, the Yankees might have killed Beau when he was born!” “They tried to burn you out of Tara!”
　Melanie held onto the back of her chair for support, almost crumpling beneath the weight of a disapproval she had never known before.
　“Oh, ladies!” she cried, pleading. “Please, let me finish! I know I haven’t the right to speak on this matter, for none of my loved ones were killed except Charlie, and I know where he lies, thank God! But there are so many among us today who do not know where their sons and husbands and brothers are buried and—”
　She choked and there was a dead silence in the room.
　Mrs. Meade’s flaming eyes went somber. She had made the long trip to Gettysburg after the battle to bring back Darcy’s body but no one had been able to tell her where he was buried. Somewhere in some hastily dug trench in the enemy’s country. And Mrs. Allan’s mouth quivered. Her husband and brother had been on that ill-starred raid Morgan made into Ohio and the last information she had of them was that they fell on the banks of the river, just as the Yankee cavalry stormed up. She did not know where they lay. Mrs. Allison’s son had died in a Northern prison camp and she, the poorest of the poor, was unable to bring his body home. There were others who had read on casualty lists: “Missing—believed dead,” and in those words had learned the last news they were ever to learn of men they had seen march away.  

The locals told us, saying, this office is the landlord house courtyard, is now the only thing left is only a few. The rest of the city because there is no warranty, had disappeared. Now, leaving only a few can keep the style and features. And the offspring of the landlord is in the village, is 80 years old.

In huayang, close contact and the monkey, this is a surprise of all. In the valley, the big group and the monkey to a close, intimate feeling naughty monkey, begging for peanut fruit, even for the wormwood to eat lovely appearance, really have to make everyone happy. Monkey began to also take the shell with peanut shell to eat, but lazy hold our hands and mouth will be buried in the eating. The furry paw, soft, holding our hands, feeling the monkey soft murmuring claw heart, monkeys are flexible in shuttle between people, from time to time hold the legs, pull all the backpack. When saw with a whole package of peanuts, a stolen, points up. When I take out the walnut cake Cloud Virtual Desktop, snapping the feeding monkeys, not one of them is grabbed my bag belt, will not let it go. Careful observation, can be found that Monkey King first priority, and male monkeys come and eat the food of the guys, such as lazy to go to one side, or small monkeys, in their hands, begging for food.


Met big monkey want to eat, even if the little monkey and not be well-advised to rob, big monkey waving long arm, occurs against shooed little monkey, when the unrest, little monkey escaped ran to panic and in my direction, so I was little monkey embraced a foot to escape reneex, into the body, thought to be the monkey scratched, but feel the monkey's paw soft palm and my legs are close contact, gentle like coquetry. On the mesa of the distance, monkey far looked at us, the little monkey like only two size of the palm, the cowardly hiding under her mother's belly belly, probe looked at the crowd, there was a naughty, secretly fled down, begging for a peanut, but it was not the mess on the mesa, anxious to make direct call, see a mother monkey jump jump at this moment, little monkey quickly caught mother monkey stomachs office furniture, paw still clutched the peanut, follow mother monkey jump on the table, this breathtaking scene to all funny.

The original, or crested ibis habitat here, in a big circle in a cage, can see the beauty of the captive crested ibis. And as long as looked up into the sky, also can see the posture of wild crested ibis fly, spread its wings ao however of the sky. Free and easy figure disappeared in the distant horizon.
  

That memory come unsewn a 1 fallen snow, and that there is no sorrow the sky falling, standing in the now, also can't see the years run out initial bloom forever. .

Sad heart filled with much want to find something sad, heartache to despair. When the whole world is dark, you can't past and present hong kong hotel promotion , staring into the sadness of tears, bitter pain. Heart is full of dark place, sometimes recall a friend, want to find someone to talk to and release all the pain, but no matter how to also could not say that the source of sorrow, flow not someone else's heart, don't points you bitter.


One locked in a room, turned off the light, closed the window, the outside world are blocked off everything, but only to find some familiar picture still showing in my mind Web Vulnerability Scan , you want to is happy, but hurt your heart. Pain of despair and helpless, as if lost the right of the whole world, you leave a body without soul, one in the country, deduce the loneliness and sadness.

Don't want to let go of sad pain, don't want to go on pain paralysis, who does not understand, without rhyme or reason in pain. Sometimes you don't want to let oneself so pain, will find some reason to prevaricate these sad, but it is like a raging waves you find , shed a drop of water in the dam embankment, coast is doomed to burst its Banks, flooding in your world. All of the pain is a kind of time, may survive, those haze days will never come.
  

I joined a snowflake bouquet for you tonight, hard and look to you that a piece of moonlight like water in the sky, see the snowflakes dancing with you the beauty !

See, you love to laugh eyes, playful, beautiful long hair, all in my brow. Snow flakes, gone with the wind shake, fell in love with you in a beautiful winter the beauty , failed to accompany you watch a snowy scenery...

Snowflakes fall palm, into the cold water, squeeze it the beauty , but from palmprint, quietly slipped away, looked at it ages, listen it dancing, palm empty, tears.

I quietly walked in the snow, you of the love, on the beautiful petals, with soft smooth line draw the outline of the outline of your, dip sweet roses copying your smile, gently put your light gathering in our law, deep...

  

“Of course, I’m all right. Rhett Butler, you are hateful, a skunk, if ever I saw one! You knew very well what I was going to say as soon as I started talking and you knew you weren’t going to give me

the money. And yet you let me go right on. You could have spared me—”
　“Spared you and missed hearing all that? Not much dermes . I have so few diversions here. I don’t know when I’ve ever heard anything so gratifying.” He laughed his sudden mocking laugh. At the sound she leaped

to her feet, snatching up her bonnet.
　He suddenly had her by the shoulders.
　“Not quite yet. Do you feel well enough to talk sense?”
　“Let me go!”
　“You are well enough, I see. Then, tell me this reenex . Was I the only iron you had in the fire?” His eyes were keen and alert, watching every change in her face.
　“What do you mean?”
　“Was I the only man you were going to try this on?”
　“Is that any of your business?”
　“More than you realize. Are there any other men on your string? Tell me!”
　“No.”
　“Incredible. I can’t imagine you without five or six in reserve. Surely someone will turn up to accept your interesting proposition. I feel so sure of it that I want to give you a little advice.”
　“I don’t want your advice.”
　“Nevertheless I will give it. Advice seems to be the only thing I can give you at present. Listen to it, for it’s good advice. When you are trying to get something out of a man, don’t blurt it out as

you did to me. Do try to be more subtle, more seductive. It gets better results. You used to know how, to perfection. But just now when you offered me your—er—collateral for my money you looked as hard as

nails. I’ve seen eyes like yours above a dueling pistol twenty paces from me and they aren’t a pleasant sight. They evoke no ardor in the male breast. That’s no way to handle men, my dear. You are

forgetting your early training.”
　“I don’t need you to tell me how to behave,” she said and wearily put on her bonnet. She wondered how he could jest so blithely with a rope about his neck and her pitiful circumstances before him. She

did not even notice that his hands were jammed in his pockets in hard fists as if he were straining at his own impotence.
　“Cheer up,” he said, as she tied the bonnet strings. “You can come to my hanging and it will make you feel lots better. It’ll even up all your old scores with me—even this one. And I’ll mention you

in my will.”
　“Thank you, but they may not hang you till it’s too late to pay the taxes,” she said with a sudden malice that matched his own, and she meant it.
　
  

　
Mammy looked at her piercingly, just as she had done when Scarlett was small and had tried unsuccessfully to palm off plausible excuses for misdeeds. She seemed to be reading her mind and Scarlett dropped her eyes unwillingly, the first feeling of guilt at her intended conduct creeping over her.
　“So you needs a spang new pretty dress ter borry money wid. Dat doan lissen jes’ right ter me. An’ you ain’ sayin’ whar de money ter come frum.”
　“I’m not saying anything,” said Scarlett indignantly. “It’s my own business. Are you going to give me that curtain and help me make the dress?”
　“Yas’m,” said Mammy softly, capitulating with a suddenness which aroused all the suspicion in Scarlett’s mind. “Ah gwine he’p you mek it an’ Ah specs we mout git a petticoat outer de satin linin’ of de po’teers an’ trim a pa’r pantalets wid de lace cuttins.”
　She handed the velvet curtain back to Scarlett and a sly smile spread over her face.
　“Miss Melly gwine ter ‘Lanta wid you, Miss Scarlett?”
　“No,” said Scarlett sharply, beginning to realize what was coming. “I’m going by myself.”
　“Dat’s whut you thinks,” said Mammy firmly, “but Ah is gwine wid you an’ dat new dress. Yas, Ma’m, eve’y step of de way.”
　For an instant Scarlett envisaged her trip to Atlanta and her conversation with Rhett with Mammy glowering chaperonage like a large black Cerberus in the background. She smiled again and put a hand on Mammy’s arm.
　“Mammy darling, you’re sweet to want to go with me and help me, but how on earth would the folks here get on without you? You know you just about run Tara.”
　“Huh!” said Mammy. “Doan do no good ter sweet talk me, Miss Scarlett. Ah been knowin’ you sence Ah put de fust pa’r of diapers on you. Ah’s said Ah’s gwine ter ‘Lanta wid you an’ gwine Ah is. Miss Ellen be tuhnin’ in her grabe at you gwine up dar by yo’seff wid dat town full up wid Yankees an’ free niggers an’ sech like.”
　“But I’ll be at Aunt Pittypat’s,” Scarlett offered frantically.
　“Miss Pittypat a fine woman an’ she think she see eve’ything but she doan,” said Mammy, and turning with the majestic air of having closed the interview, she went into the hall. The boards trembled as she called:
　“Prissy, child! Fly up de stairs an’ fotch Miss Scarlett’s pattun box frum de attic an’ try an’ fine de scissors without takin’ all night ‘bout it.”
　“This is a fine mess,” thought Scarlett dejectedly. “I’d as soon have a bloodhound after me.”
　After supper had been cleared away, Scarlett and Mammy spread patterns on the dining-room table while Suellen and Carreen busily ripped satin linings from curtains and Melanie brushed the velvet with a clean hairbrush to remove the dust. Gerald, Will and Ashley sat about the room smoking, smiling at the feminine tumult. A feeling of pleasurable excitement which seemed to emanate from Scarlett was on them all, an excitement they could not understand. There was color in Scarlett’s face and a bright hard glitter in her eyes and she laughed a good deal. Her laughter pleased them all, for it had been months since they had heard her really laugh. Especially did it please Gerald. His eyes were less vague than-usual as they followed her swishing figure about the room and he patted her approvingly whenever she was within reach. The girls were as excited as if preparing for a ball and they ripped and cut and basted as if making a ball dress of their own.  

The boys followed her to the wagon and assisted her in, courtly for all their rags, gay with the volatile Fontaine gaiety, but with the picture of their destitution in her eyes, she shivered as she drove away from Mimosa. She was so tired of poverty and pinching. What a pleasure it would be to know people who were rich and not worried as to where the next meal was coming from!
　Cade Calvert was at home at Pine Bloom and Dermes, as Scarlett came up the steps of the old house in which she had danced so often in happier days, she saw that death was in his face. He was emaciated and he coughed as he lay in an easy chair in the sunshine with a shawl across his knees, but his face lit up when he saw her. Just a little cold which had settled in his chest, he said, trying to rise to greet her. Got it from sleeping so much in the rain. But it would be gone soon and then he’d lend a hand in the work.
　Cathleen Calvert, who came out of the house at the sound of voices, met Scarlett’s eyes above her brother’s head and in them Scarlett read knowledge and bitter despair. Cade might not know but Cathleen knew. Pine Bloom looked straggly and overgrown with weeds, seedling pines were beginning to show in the fields and the house was sagging and untidy Dermes. Cathleen was thin and taut.
　The two of them, with their Yankee stepmother, their four little half-sisters, and Hilton, the Yankee overseer, remained in the silent, oddly echoing house. Scarlett had never liked Hilton any more than she liked their own overseer Jonas Wilkerson, and she liked him even less now, as he sauntered forward and greeted her like an equal. Formerly he had the same combination of servility and impertinence which Wilkerson possessed but now, with Mr. Calvert and Raiford dead in the war and Cade sick, he had dropped all servility. The second Mrs. Calvert had never known how to compel respect from negro servants and it was not to be expected that she could get it from a white man.
　“Mr. Hilton has been so kind about staying with us through these difficult times,” said Mrs. Calvert nervously, casting quick glances at her silent stepdaughter. “Very kind. I suppose you heard how he saved our house twice when Sherman was here Dermes. I’m sure I don’t know how we would have managed without him, with no money and Cade—”
　A flush went over Cade’s white face and Cathleen’s long lashes veiled her eyes as her mouth hardened. Scarlett knew their souls were writhing in helpless rage at being under obligations to their Yankee overseer. Mrs. Calvert seemed ready to weep. She had somehow made a blunder. She was always blundering. She just couldn’t understand Southerners, for all that she had lived in Georgia twenty years. She never knew what not to say to her stepchildren and, no matter what she said or did, they were always so exquisitely polite to her. Silently she vowed she would go North to her own people , taking her children with her, and leave these puzzling stiff-necked strangers.
　After these visits, Scarlett had no desire to see the Tarletons. Now that the four boys were gone, the house burned and the family cramped in the overseer’s cottage, she could not bring herself to go. But Suellen and Carreen begged and Melanie said it would be unneighborly not to call and welcome Mr. Tarleton back from the war, so one Sunday they went.
　This was the worst of all.