"I am sure that is a great gain to two charming ladies," said he, making a slight bow. That was the kind of remark all men made, but when he said it it seemed to her that he meant just the opposite.
"Your husbands are here tonight, I trust, on this happy occasion? It would be a pleasure to renew acquaintances."
"My husband is in Virginia," said Melly with a proud lift of her head. "But Charles--"Her voice broke.
"He died in camp," said Scarlett flatly. She almost snapped the words. Would this creature never go away? Melly looked at her, startled, and the Captain made a gesture of self-reproach.
"My dear ladies--how could I! You must forgive me. But permit a stranger to offer the comfort of saying that to die for one's country is to live forever."
Melanie smiled at him through sparkling tears while Scarlett felt the fox of wrath and
impotent hate gnaw at her vitals. Again he had made a graceful remark, the kind of compliment any gentleman would pay under such circumstances, but he did not mean a word of it. He was jeering at her. He knew she hadn't loved Charles. And Melly was just a big enough fool not to see through him. Oh, please God, don't let anybody else see through him, she thought with a start of terror. Would he tell what he knew? Of course he wasn't a gentleman and there was no telling what men would do when they weren't gentlemen. There was no standard to judge them by. She looked up at him and saw that his mouth was pulled down at the corners in mock sympathy, even while he swished the fan. Something in his look challenged her spirit and brought her strength back in a surge of dislike. Abruptly she snatched the fan from his hand.
"I'm quite all right," she said tartly. "There's no need to blow my hair out of place."
"Scarlett, darling! Captain Butler, you must forgive her. She--she isn't herself when she hears poor Charlie's name spoken--and perhaps, after all, we shouldn't have come here tonight.
We're still in mourning, you see, and it's quite a strain on her--all this gaiety and music, poor child."
"I quite understand," he said with elaborate gravity, but as he turned and gave Melanie a searching look that went to the bottom of her sweet worried eyes, his expression changed, reluctant respect and gentleness coming over his dark face. "I think you're a courageous little lady, Mrs. Wilkes."
"Not a word about me!" thought Scarlett indignantly, as Melly smiled in confusion and answered,
"Dear me, no, Captain Butler! The hospital committee just had to have us for this booth because at the last minute--A pillow case? Here's a lovely one with a flag on it."
She turned to three cavalrymen who appeared at her counter. For a moment, Melanie thought how nice Captain Butler was. Then she wished that something more substantial than cheesecloth was between her skirt and the spittoon that stood just outside the booth, for the aim of the horsemen with amber streams of tobacco juice was not so unerring as with their long horse pistols. Then she forgot about the Captain, Scarlett and the spittoons as more customers crowded to her.
Scarlett sat quietly on the stool fanning herself, not daring to look up, wishing Captain Butler back on the deck of his ship where he belonged.
"Your husband has been dead long?"
"Oh, yes, a long time. Almost a year."
"An aeon, I'm sure."
Scarlett was not sure what an aeon was, but there was no mistaking the baiting quality of his voice, so she said nothing.
"Had you been married long? Forgive my questions but I have been away from this
section for so long."
"Two months," said Scarlett, unwillingly.
"A tragedy, no less," his easy voice continued.
Oh, damn him, she thought violently. If he was any other man in the world I could simply
freeze up and order' him off. But he knows about Ashley and he knows I didn't love Charlie. And my hands are tied. She said nothing, still looking down at her fan.
"And this is your first social appearance?"
"I know it looks quite odd," she explained rapidly. "But the McLure girls who were to take this booth were called away and there was no one else, so Melanie and I--"
"No sacrifice is too great for the Cause."
Why, that was what Mrs. Elsing had said, but when she said it it didn't sound the same
way. Hot words started to her lips but she choked them back. After all, she was here, not for the Cause, but because she was tired of sitting home.
"I have always thought," he said reflectively, "that the system of mourning, of immuring women in crêpe for the rest of their lives and forbidding them normal enjoyment is just as barbarous as the Hindu suttee."