Gone with the Wind / Унесённые ветром

She had knitted socks and afghans and mufflers. And she had embroidered half a dozen sofa-pillow cases with the Confederate flag on them. Yesterday she had worked until she was worn out. Under the supervision of the Committee, this was hard work and no fun at all. Oh, it wasn’t fair that she should have a dead husband and be out of everything that was pleasant. She tried not to smile and wave too enthusiastically to the men she knew best, but it was hard to hide her dimples, hard to look as though her heart were in the grave – when it wasn’t.

Pittypat entered the room and jerked her away from the window unceremoniously.

“Have you lost your mind, honey, waving at men out of your bedroom window? I declare, Scarlett, I’m shocked! What would your mother say?”

“Well, they didn’t know it was my bedroom.”

“Honey, you mustn’t do things like that. Everybody will be talking about you and saying you are fast.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Auntie! I forgot it was my bedroom window.

I won’t do it again – I – I just wanted to see them go by. I wish I was going.”

“Honey!”

“Well, I do. I’m so tired of sitting at home.”

“Scarlett, promise me you won’t say things like that. People would talk so. They’d say you didn’t have the proper respect for poor Charlie —”

“Oh, Auntie, don’t cry!” And Scarlett wailed out loud – not, as Pittypat thought, for poor Charlie but because the last sounds of the wheels and the laughter were dying away.

“Oh, now I’ve made you cry, too,” sobbed Pittypat, in a pleased way, fumbling for her handkerchief.

Melanie came running from her room: “Darlings! What is the matter?”

“Charlie!” sobbed Pittypat.

“Oh,” said Melly, “Be brave, dear. Don’t cry. Oh, Scarlett!”

Scarlett had thrown herself on the bed and was sobbing at the top of her voice, sobbing for her lost youth and the pleasures of youth.

“I might as well be dead!” she sobbed passionately.

“Dear, don’t cry! Try to think how much Charlie loved you and let that comfort you!”

“Oh, do go away and leave me alone!”

She sank her face into the pillow, and the two standing over her tiptoed out. She heard Melanie say to Pittypat:

“Aunt Pitty, I wish you wouldn’t speak of Charles to her. You know how it always affects her. We mustn’t make it harder for her.”

Scarlett kicked the coverlet in impotent rage.