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r Cause is just and holy？ And get so excited by the roll of drums that I’ll grab a musket and rush off to Virginia to shed my blood for Marse Robert？ What kind of a fool do you think I am？ Kissing the rod that chastised me is not in my line。 The South and I are even now。 The South threw me out to starve once。 I haven’t starved； and I am making enough money out of the South’s death throes to compensate me for my lost birthright。”
“I think you are vile and mercenary；” said Scarlett； but her remark was automatic。 Most of what he was saying went over her head； as did any conversation that was not personal。 But part of it made sense。 There were such a lot of foolish things about life among nice people。 Having to pretend that her heart was in the grave when it wasn’t。 And how shocked everybody had been when she danced at the bazaar。 And the infuriating way people lifted their eyebrows every time she did or said anything the least bit different from what every other young woman did and said。 But still； she was jarred at hearing him attack the very traditions that irked her most。 She had lived too long among people who dissembled politely not to feel disturbed at hearing her own thoughts put into words。
“Mercenary？ No； I’m only farsighted。 Though perhaps that is merely a synonym for mercenary。 At least； people who were not as farsighted as I will call it that。 Any loyal Confederate who had a thousand dollars in cash in 1861 could have done what I did； but how few were mercenary enough to take advantage of their opportunities！ As for instance； right after Fort Sumter fell and before the blockade was established； I bought up several thousand bales of cotton at dirt…cheap prices and ran them to England。 They are still there in warehouses in Liverpool。 I’ve never sold them。 I’m holding them until the English mills have to have cotton and will give me any price I ask。 I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a dollar a pound。”
“You’ll get a dollar a pound when elephants roost in trees！”
“I’ll believe I’ll get it。 Cotton is at seventy…two cents a pound already。 I’m going to be a rich man when this war is over； Scarlett； because I was farsighted—pardon me； mercenary。 I told you once before that there were two times for making big money； one in the upbuilding of a country and the other in its destruction。 Slow money on the upbuilding； fast money in the crack…up。 Remember my words。 Perhaps they may be of use to you some day。”
“I do appreciate good advice so much；” said Scarlett； with all the sarcasm she could muster。 “But I don’t need your advice。 Do you think Pa is a pauper？ He’s got all the money I’ll ever need and then I have Charles’ property besides。”
“I imagine the French aristocrats thought practically the same thing until the very moment when they climbed into the tumbrils。”
Frequently Rhett pointed out to Scarlett the inconsistency of her wearing black mourning clothes when she was participating in all social activities。 He liked bright colors and Scarlett’s funeral dresses and the crêpe veil that hung from her bonnet to her heels both amused him and offended him。 But she clung to her dull black dresses and her veil； knowing that if she changed them for colors without waiting several more years； the town would buzz even more than it was already buzzing。 And besides； how would she ever explain to her mother？
Rhett said frankly that the crêpe veil made her look like a crow and the black dresses added ten years to her age。 This ungallant statement sent her flying to the mirror to see if she really did look twenty…eight instead of eighteen。
“I should think you’d have more pride than to try to look like Mrs。 Merriwether；” he taunted。 “And better taste than to wear that veil to advertise a grief I’m sure you never felt。 I’ll lay a wager with you。 I’ll have that bonnet and veil off your head and a Paris creation on it within two months。”
“Indeed； no； and don’t let’s discuss it any further；” said Scarlett； annoyed by his reference to Charles。 Rhett； who was preparing to leave for Wilmington for another trip abroad； departed with a grin on his face。
One bright summer morning some weeks later； he reappeared with a brightly trimmed hatbox in his hand and； after finding that Scarlett was alone in the house； he opened it。 Wrapped in layers of tissue was a bonnet； a creation that made her cry： “Oh； the darling thing！” as she reached for it。 Starved for the sight； much less the touch； of new clothes； it seemed the loveliest bonnet she had ever seen。 It was of dark…green taffeta； lined with water silk of a pale…jade color。 The ribbons that tied under the chin were as wide as her hand and they； too； were pale green。 And； curled about the brim of this confection was the perkiest of green ostrich plumes。
“Put it on；” said Rhett； smiling。
She flew across the room to the mirror and plopped it on her head； pushing back her hair to show her earrings and tying the ribbon under her chin。
“How do I look？” she cried； pirouetting for his benefit and tossing her head so that the plume danced。 But she knew she looked pretty even before she saw confirmation in his eyes。 She looked attractively saucy and the green of the lining made her eyes dark emerald and sparkling。
“Oh； Rhett； whose bonnet is it？ I’ll buy it。 I’ll give you every cent I’ve got for it。”
“It’s your bonnet；” he said。 “Who else could wear that shade of green？ Don’t you think I carried the color of your eyes well in my mind？”
“Did you really have it trimmed just for me？”
“Yes； and there’s ‘Rue de la Paix’ on the box； if that means anything to you。”
It meant nothing to her； smiling at her reflection in the mirror。 Just at this moment； nothing mattered to her except that she looked utterly charming in the first pretty hat she had put on her head in two years。 What she couldn’t do with this hat！ And then her smile faded。
“Don’t you like it？”
“Oh； it’s a dream but— Oh； I do hate to have to cover this lovely green with crêpe and dye the feather black。”
He was beside her quickly and his deft fingers untied the wide bow under her chin。 In a moment the hat was back in its box。
“What are you doing？ You said it was mine。”
“But not to change to a mourning bonnet。 I shall find some other charming lady with green eyes who appreciates my taste。”
“Oh； you shan’t！ I’ll die if I don’t have it！ Oh； please； Rhett； don’t be mean！ Let me have it。”
“And turn it into a fright like your other hats？ No。”
She clutched at the box。 That sweet thing that made her look so young and enchanting to be given to some other girl？ Oh； never！ For a moment she thought of the horror of Pitty and Melanie。 She thought of Ellen and what she would say； and she shivered。 But vanity was stronger。
“I won’t change it。 I promise。 Now； do let me have it。”
He gave her the box with a slightly sardonic smile and watched her while she put it on again and preened herself。
“How much is it？” she asked suddenly； her face falling。 “I have only fifty dollars but next month—”
“It would cost about two thousand dollars； Confederate money；” he said with a grin at her woebegone expression。
“Oh； dear— Well； suppose I give you the fifty now and then when I get—”
“I don’t want any money for it；” he said； “It’s a gift。” Scarlett’s mouth dropped open。 The line was so closely； so carefully drawn where gifts from men were concerned。
“Candy and flowers； dear；” Ellen had said time and again； “and perhaps a book of poetry or an album or a small bottle of Florida water are the only things a lady may accept from a gentleman。 Never； never any expensive gift； even from your fiancé。 And never any gift of jewelry or wearing apparel； not even gloves or handkerchiefs。 Should you accept such gifts； men would know you were no lady and would try to take liberties。”
“Oh； dear；” thought Scarlett； looking first at herself in the mirror and then at Rhett’s unreadable face。 “I simply can’t tell him I won’t accept it。 It’s too darling。 I’d—I’d almost rather he took a liberty； if it was a very small one。” Then she was horrified at herself for having such a thought and she tu