Hold Fast

Götterdämmerung

Ashley put down the axe and looked away and his eyes seemed to be journeying to somefar-off country where she could not follow."I wonder," he said. "I wonder not only what will become of us at Tara but what will become of everybody in the South."She felt like snapping out abruptly: "To hell with everybody in the South! What about us?" but she remained silent because the tired feeling was back on her more strongly than ever. 

Ashley wasn't being any help at all. 

"In the end what will happen will be what has happened whenever a civilization breaks up. The people who have brains and courage come through and the ones who haven't are winnowed out. At least, it has been interesting, if not comfortable, to witness a_Götterdämmerung."

_"A what?""A dusk of the gods. Unfortunately, we Southerners did think we were gods.""For Heaven's sake, Ashley Wilkes! Don't stand there and talk nonsense at me when it's us who are going to be winnowed out!"Something of her exasperated weariness seemed to penetrate his mind, calling it backfrom its wanderings, for he raised her hands with tenderness and, turning them palm up, looked at the calluses."These are the most beautiful hands I know," he said and kissed each palm lightly. "Theyare beautiful because they are strong and every callus is a medal, Scarlett, every blister an award for bravery and unselfishness. They've been roughened for all of us, your father, the girls, Melanie, the baby, the negroes and for me. My dear, I know what you are thinking. You'rethinking, 'Here stands an impractical fool talking tommyrot about dead gods when living people are in danger.' Isn't that true?"She nodded, wishing he would keep on holding her hands forever, but he dropped them."And you came to me, hoping I could help you. Well, I can't."His eyes were bitter as he looked toward the axe and the pile of logs."My home is gone and all the money that I so took for granted I never realized I had it. And I am fitted for nothing in this world, for the world I belonged in has gone. I can't help you,Scarlett, except by learning with as good grace as possible to be a clumsy farmer. And that won't keep Tara for you. Don't you think I realize the bitterness of our situation, living here on your charity--Oh, yes, Scarlett, your charity. I can never repay you what you've done for me and for mine out of the kindness of your heart. I realize it more acutely every day. And every day I see more clearly how helpless I am to cope with what has come on us all--Every day my accursed shrinking from realities makes it harder for me to face the new realities. Do you know what I mean?"She nodded. She had no very clear idea what he meant but she clung breathlessly on his words, this was the first time he had ever spoken to her of the things he was thinking when he seemed so remote from her. It excited her as if she were on the brink of a discovery."It's a curse--this not wanting to look on naked realities. Until the war, life was nevermore real to me than a shadow show on a curtain. And I preferred it so. I do not like the outlinesof things to be too sharp. I like them gently blurred, a little hazy."He stopped and smiled faintly, shivering a little as the cold wind went through his thinshirt."In other words, Scarlett, I am a coward."His talk of shadow shows and hazy outlines conveyed-no meaning to her but his lastwords were in language she could understand. She knew they were untrue. Cowardice was not inhim. Every line of his slender body spoke of generations of brave and gallant men and Scarlettknew his war record by heart."Why, that's not so! Would a coward have climbed on the cannon at Gettysburg andrallied the men? Would the General himself have written Melanie a letter about a coward? And--""That's not courage," he said tiredly. "Fighting is like champagne. It goes to the heads ofcowards as quickly as of heroes. Any fool can be brave on a battle field when it's be brave or elsebe killed. I'm talking of something else. And my kind of cowardice is infinitely worse than if Ihad run the first time I heard a cannon fired."His words came slowly and with difficulty as if it hurt to speak them and he seemed tostand off and look with a sad heart at what he had said. Had any other man spoken so, Scarlettwould have dismissed such protestations contemptuously as mock modesty and a bid for praise.But Ashley seemed to mean them and there was a look in his eyes which eluded her--not fear, notapology, but the bracing to a strain which was inevitable and overwhelming. The wintry windswept her damp ankles and she shivered again but her shiver was less from the wind than fromthe dread his words evoked in her heart."But, Ashley, what are you afraid of?""Oh, nameless things. Things which sound very silly when they are put into words.Mostly of having life suddenly become too real, of being brought into personal, too personal,contact with some of the simple facts of life. It isn't that I mind splitting logs here in the mud, butI do mind what it stands for. I do mind, very much, the loss of the beauty of the old life I loved.Scarlett, before the war, life was beautiful. There was a glamour to it, a perfection and acompleteness and a symmetry to it like Grecian art. Maybe it wasn't so to everyone. I know thatnow. But to me, living at Twelve Oaks, there was a real beauty to living. I belonged in that life. Iwas a part of it. And now it is gone and I am out of place in this new life, and I am afraid. Now, Iknow that in the old days it was a shadow show I watched. I avoided everything which was notshadowy, people and situations which were too real, too vital. I resented their intrusion. I tried toavoid you too, Scarlett. You were too full of living and too real and I was cowardly enough toprefer shadows and dreams.""But--but--Melly?""Melanie is the gentlest of dreams and a part of my dreaming. And if the war had notcome I would have lived out my life, happily buried at Twelve Oaks, contentedly watching lifego by and never being a part of it. But when the war came, life as it really is thrust itself againstme. The first time I went into action--it was at Bull Run, you remember--I saw my boyhoodfriends blown to bits and heard dying horses scream and learned the sickeningly horrible feelingof seeing men crumple up and spit blood when I shot them. But those weren't the worst thingsabout the war, Scarlett. The worst thing about the war was the people I had to live with."I had sheltered myself from people an my life, I had carefully selected my few friends.But the war taught me I had created a world of my own with dream people in it. It taught mewhat people really are, but it didn't teach me how to live with them. And I'm afraid I'll neverlearn. Now, I know that in order to support my wife and child, I will have to make my wayamong a world of people with whom I have nothing in common. You, Scarlett, are taking life bythe horns and twisting it to your will. But where do I fit in the world any more? I tell you I amafraid."While his low resonant voice went on, desolate, with a feeling she could not understand,Scarlett clutched at words here and there, trying to make sense of them. But the words swoopedfrom her hands like wild birds. Something was driving him, driving him with a cruel goad, butshe did not understand what it was."Scarlett, I don't know just when it was that the bleak realization came over me that myown private shadow show was over. Perhaps in the first five minutes at Bull Run when I saw thefirst man I killed drop to the ground. But I knew it was over and I could no longer be a spectator.No, I suddenly found myself on the curtain, an actor, posturing and making futile gestures. Mylittle inner world was gone, invaded by people whose thoughts were not my thoughts, whoseactions were as alien as a Hottentot's. They'd tramped through my world with slimy feet and therewas no place left where I could take refuge when things became too bad to stand. When I was inprison, I thought: When the war is over, I can go back to the old life and the old dreams andwatch the shadow show again. But, Scarlett, there's no going back. And this which is facing all ofus now is worse than war and worse than prison--and, to me, worse than death... So, you see,Scarlett, I'm being punished for being afraid.""But, Ashley," she began, floundering in a quagmire of bewilderment, "if you're afraidwe'll starve, why--why--Oh, Ashley, we'll manage somehow! I know we will!"For a moment, his eyes came back to her, wide and crystal gray, and there was admirationin them. Then, suddenly, they were remote again and she knew with a sinking heart that he hadnot been thinking about starving. They were always like two people talking to each other indifferent languages. But she loved him so much that, when he withdrew as he had now done, itwas like the warm son going down and leaving her in chilly twilight dews. She wanted to catchhim by the shoulders and hug him to her, make him realize that she was flesh and blood and notsomething he had read or dreamed. If she could only feel that sense of oneness with him forwhich she had yearned since that day, so long ago, when he had come home from Europe andstood on the steps of Tara and smiled up at her."Starving's not pleasant," he said. "I know for I've starved, but I'm not afraid of that. I amafraid of facing life without the slow beauty of our old world that is gone."Scarlett thought despairingly that Melanie would know what he meant. Melly and he werealways talking such foolishness, poetry and books and dreams and moonrays and star dust. Hewas not fearing the things she feared, not the gnawing of an empty stomach, nor the keenness ofthe winter wind nor eviction from Tara. He was shrinking before some fear she had never knownand could not imagine. For, in God's name, what was there to fear in this wreck of a world buthunger and cold and the loss of home?And she had thought that if she listened closely she would know the answer to Ashley."Oh!" she said and the disappointment in her voice was that of a child who opens abeautifully wrapped package to find it empty. At her tone, he smiled ruefully as thoughapologizing."Forgive me, Scarlett, for talking so. I can't make you understand because you don't knowthe meaning of fear. You have the heart of a lion and an utter lack of imagination and I envy youboth of those qualities. You'll never mind facing realities and you'll never want to escape fromthem as I do.""Escape!"It was as if that were the only understandable word he had spoken. Ashley, like her, wastired of the struggle and he wanted to escape. Her breath came fast."Oh, Ashley," she cried, "you're wrong. I do want to escape, too. I am so very tired of itall!"His eyebrows went up in disbelief and she laid a hand, feverish and urgent, on his arm."Listen to me," she began swiftly, the words tumbling out one over the other. "I'm tired ofit all, I tell you. Bone tired and I'm not going to stand it any longer. I've struggled for food and formoney and I've weeded and hoed and picked cotton and I've even plowed until I can't stand itanother minute. I tell you, Ashley, the South is dead! It's dead! The Yankees and the free niggersand the Carpetbaggers have got it and there's nothing left for us. Ashley, let's run away!"He peered at her sharply, lowering his head to look into her face, now flaming with color."Yes, let's run away--leave them all! I'm tired of working for the folks. Somebody willtake care of them. There's always somebody who takes care of people who can't take care ofthemselves. Oh, Ashley, let's run away, you and I. We could go to Mexico--they want officers inthe Mexican Army and we could be so happy there. I'd work for you, Ashley. I'd do anything foryou. You know you don't love Melanie--"He started to speak, a stricken look on his face, but she stemmed his words with a torrentof her own."You told me you loved me better than her that day--oh, you remember that day! And Iknow you haven't changed! I can tell you haven't changed! And you've just said she was nothingbut a dream--Oh, Ashley, let's go away! I could make you so happy. And anyway," she addedvenomously, "Melanie can't--Dr. Fontaine said she couldn't ever have any more children and Icould give you--"His hands were on her shoulders so tightly that they hurt and she stopped, breathless."We were to forget that day at Twelve Oaks.""Do you think I could ever forget it? Have you forgotten it? Can you honestly say youdon't love me?"He drew a deep breath and answered quickly."No. I don't love you.""That's a lie.""Even if it is a lie," said Ashley and his voice was deadly quiet, "it is not something whichcan be discussed.""You mean--""Do you think I could go off and leave Melanie and the baby, even if I hated them both?Break Melanie's heart? Leave them both to the charity of friends? Scarlett, are you mad? Isn'tthere any sense of loyalty in you? You couldn't leave your father and the girls. They're yourresponsibility, just as Melanie and Beau are mine, and whether you are tired or not, they are hereand you've got to bear them.""I could leave them--I'm sick of them--tired of them--"He leaned toward her and, for a moment, she thought with a catch at her heart that he wasgoing to take her in his arms. But instead, he patted her arm and spoke as one comforting a child."I know you're sick and tired. That's why you are talking this way. You've carried the loadof three men. But I'm going to help you--I won't always be so awkward--""There's only one way you can help me," she said dully, "and that's to take me away fromhere and give us a new start somewhere, with a chance for happiness. There's nothing to keep ushere.""Nothing," he said quietly, "nothing--except honor."She looked at him with baffled longing and saw, as if for the first time, how the crescentsof his lashes were the thick rich gold of ripe wheat, how proudly his head sat upon his bared neckand how the look of race and dignity persisted in his slim erect body, even through its grotesquerags. Her eyes met his, hers naked with pleading, his remote as mountain lakes under gray skies.She saw in them defeat of her wild dream, her mad desires.Heartbreak and weariness sweeping over her, she dropped her head in her hands andcried. He had never seen her cry. He had never thought that women of her strong mettle had tears,and a flood of tenderness and remorse swept him. He came to her swiftly and in a moment hadher in his arms, cradling her comfortingly, pressing her black head to his heart, whispering:"Dear! My brave dear--don't! You mustn't cry!"At his touch, he felt her change within his grip and there was madness and magic in theslim body he held and a hot soft glow in the green eyes which looked up at him. Of a sudden, itwas no longer bleak winter. For Ashley, spring was back again, that half-forgotten balmy springof green rustlings and murmurings, a spring of ease and indolence, careless days when the desiresof youth were warm in his body. The bitter years since then fell away and he saw that the lipsturned up to his were red and trembling and he kissed her.There was a curious low roaring sound in her ears as of sea shells held against them andthrough the sound she dimly heard the swift thudding of her heart. Her body seemed to melt intohis and, for a timeless time, they stood, fused together as his lips took hers hungrily as if he couldnever have enough.When he suddenly released her she felt that she could not stand alone and gripped thefence for support. She raised eyes blazing with love and triumph to him."You do love me! You do love me! Say it--say it!"His hands still rested on her shoulders and she felt them tremble and loved theirtrembling. She leaned toward him ardently but he held her away from him, looking at her witheyes from which all remoteness had fled, eyes tormented with struggle and despair."Don't!" he said. "Don't! If you do, I shall take you now, here."She smiled a bright hot smile which was forgetful of time or place or anything but thememory of his mouth on hers.Suddenly he shook her, shook her until her black hair tumbled down about her shoulders,shook her as if in a mad rage at her--and at himself."We won't do this!" he said. "I tell you we won't do it!"It seemed as if her neck would snap if he shook her again. She was blinded by her hairand stunned by his action. She wrenched herself away and stared at him. There were small beadsof moisture on his forehead and his fists were curled into claws as if in pain. He looked at herdirectly, his gray eyes piercing."It's all my fault--none of yours and it will never happen again, because I am going to takeMelanie and the baby and go.""Go?" she cried in anguish. "Oh, no!""Yes, by God! Do you think I'll stay here after this? When this might happen again--""But, Ashley, you can't go. Why should you go? You love me--""You want me to say it? All right, I'll say it. I love you."He leaned over her with a sudden savagery which made her shrink back against the fence."I love you, your courage and your stubbornness and your fire and your utter ruthlessness.How much do I love you? So much that a moment ago I would have outraged the hospitality ofthe house which has sheltered me and my family, forgotten the best wife any man ever had--enough to take you here in the mud like a--"She struggled with a chaos of thoughts and there was a cold pain in her heart as if anicicle had pierced it. She said haltingly: "If you felt like that--and didn't take me--then you don'tlove me.""I can never make you understand."They fell silent and looked at each other. Suddenly Scarlett shivered and saw, as ifcoming back from a long journey, that it was winter and the fields were bare and harsh withstubble and she was very cold. She saw too that the old aloof face of Ashley, the one she knew sowell, had come back and it was wintry too, and harsh with hurt and remorse. She would have turned and left him then, seeking the shelter of the house to hide herself, but she was too tired to move. Even speech was a labor and a weariness. 

There is nothing left," she said at last. "Nothing left for me. Nothing to love. Nothing to fight for. You are gone and Tara is going."He looked at her for a long space and then, leaning, scooped up a small wad of red clay from the ground. "Yes, there is something left," he said, and the ghost of his old smile came back, the smile which mocked himself as well as her. "Something you love better than me, though you may not know it. You've still got Tara." He took her limp hand and pressed the damp clay into it and closed her fingers about it. There was no fever in his hands now, nor in hers. She looked at the red soil for a moment and it meant nothing to her. She looked at him and realized dimly that there was an integrity of spirit in him which was not to be torn apart by her passionate hands, nor by any hands. If it killed him, he would never leave Melanie. If he burned for Scarlett until the end ofhis days, he would never take her and he would fight to keep her at a distance. She would never again get through that armor. The words, hospitality and loyalty and honor, meant more to him than she did.

The clay was cold in her hand and she looked at it again."Yes," she said, I've still got this."At first, the words meant nothing and the clay was only red clay. But unbidden came the thought of the sea of red dirt which surrounded Tara and how very dear it was and how hard she had fought to keep it--how hard she was going to have to fight if she wished to keep it hereafter.

She looked at him again and wondered where the hot flood of feeling had gone. She could thinkbut could not feel, not about him nor Tara either, for she was drained of all emotion.

"You need not go," she said clearly. "I won't have you all starve, simply because I've thrown myself at your head. It will never happen again."

She turned away and started back toward the house across the rough fields, twisting herhair into a knot upon her neck. 

Ashley watched her go and saw her square her small thin shoulders as she went. And that gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken.