Only to Melanie, the next morning, did she permit herself the luxury of exploding.
"You insulted me, Melly Wilkes, and you made Ashley and the others insult me!
You know they'd have never gone home so soon if you hadn't dragged them.
Oh, I saw you!
Just when I started to bring Governor Bullock over to present him to you, you ran like a rabbit!"
"I did not believe--I could not believe that he would really be present," answered Melanie unhappily.
"Even though everybody said--"
"Everybody?
So everybody's been clacking and blabbing about me, have they?" cried Scarlett furiously.
"Do you mean to tell me if you'd known the governor was going to be present, you wouldn't have come either?"
"No," said Melanie in a low voice, her eyes on the floor.
"Darling, I just wouldn't have come."
"Great balls of fire!
So you'd have insulted me like everybody else did!"
"Oh, mercy!" cried Melly, in real distress.
"I didn't mean to hurt you.
You're my own sister, darling, my own Charlie's widow and I--"
She put a timid hand on Scarlett's arm. But Scarlett flung it off, wishing fervently that she could roar as loudly as Gerald used to roar when in a temper.
But Melanie faced her wrath.
And as she looked into Scarlett's stormy green eyes, her slight shoulders straightened and a mantle of dignity, strangely at variance with her childish face and figure, fell upon her.
"I'm sorry you're hurt, my dear, but I cannot meet Governor Bullock or any Republican or any Scallawag.
I will not meet them, in your house or any other house.
No, not even if I have to--if I have to--" Melanie cast about her for the worst thing she could think of--
"Not even if I have to be rude."
"Are you criticizing my friends?"
"No, dear. But they are your friends and not mine."
"Are you criticizing me for having the governor at my house?"
Cornered, Melanie still met Scarlett's eyes unwaveringly.
"Darling, what you do, you always do for a good reason and I love you and trust you and it is not for me to criticize.
And I will not permit anyone to criticize you in my hearing.
But, oh, Scarlett!"
Suddenly words began to bubble out, swift hot words and there was inflexible hate in the low voice.
"Can you forget what these people did to us?
Can you forget darling Charlie dead and Ashley's health ruined and Twelve Oaks burned?
Oh, Scarlett, you can't forget that terrible man you shot with your mother's sewing box in his hands!
You can't forget Sherman's men at Tara and how they even stole our underwear!
And tried to burn the place down and actually handled my father's sword!
Oh, Scarlett, it was these same people who robbed us and tortured us and left us to starve that you invited to your party!
The same people who have set the darkies up to lord it over us, who are robbing us and keeping our men from voting!
I can't forget.
I won't forget.
I won't let my Beau forget and I'll teach my grandchildren to hate these people-- and my grandchildren's grandchildren if God lets me live that long!
Scarlett, how can you forget?"
Melanie paused for breath and Scarlett stared at her, startled out of her own anger by the quivering note of violence in Melanie's voice.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" she questioned impatiently.
"Of course, I remember!
But all that's past, Melly.
It's up to us to make the best of things and I'm trying to do it.
Governor Bullock and some of the nicer Republicans can help us a lot if we handle them right."
"There are no nice Republicans," said Melanie flatly.