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Belle
Watling
was
the
most
notorious
of
the
madams
.
She
had
opened
a
new
house
of
her
own
,
a
large
two-story
building
that
made
neighboring
houses
in
the
district
look
like
shabby
rabbit
warrens
.
There
was
a
long
barroom
downstairs
,
elegantly
hung
with
oil
paintings
,
and
a
negro
orchestra
played
every
night
.
The
upstairs
,
so
rumor
said
,
was
fitted
out
with
the
finest
of
plush
upholstered
furniture
,
heavy
lace
curtains
and
imported
mirrors
in
gilt
frames
.
The
dozen
young
ladies
with
whom
the
house
was
furnished
were
comely
,
if
brightly
painted
,
and
comported
themselves
more
quietly
than
those
of
other
houses
.
At
least
,
the
police
were
seldom
summoned
to
Belle
's
.
This
house
was
something
that
the
matrons
of
Atlanta
whispered
about
furtively
and
ministers
preached
against
in
guarded
terms
as
a
cesspool
of
iniquity
,
a
hissing
and
a
reproach
.
Everyone
knew
that
a
woman
of
Belle
's
type
could
n't
have
made
enough
money
by
herself
to
set
up
such
a
luxurious
establishment
.
She
had
to
have
a
backer
and
a
rich
one
at
that
.
And
Rhett
Butler
had
never
had
the
decency
to
conceal
his
relations
with
her
,
so
it
was
obvious
that
he
and
no
other
must
be
that
backer
.
Belle
herself
presented
a
prosperous
appearance
when
glimpsed
occasionally
in
her
closed
carriage
driven
by
an
impudent
yellow
negro
.
When
she
drove
by
,
behind
a
fine
pair
of
bays
,
all
the
little
boys
along
the
street
who
could
evade
their
mothers
ran
to
peer
at
her
and
whisper
excitedly
:
"
That
's
her
!
That
's
ole
Belle
!
I
seen
her
red
hair
!
"
Shouldering
the
shell-pitted
houses
patched
with
bits
of
old
lumber
and
smoke-blackened
bricks
,
the
fine
homes
of
the
Carpetbaggers
and
war
profiteers
were
rising
,
with
mansard
roofs
,
gables
and
turrets
,
stained-glass
windows
and
wide
lawns
.
Night
after
night
,
in
these
newly
built
homes
,
the
windows
were
ablaze
with
gas
light
and
the
sound
of
music
and
dancing
feet
drifted
out
upon
the
air
.
Women
in
stiff
bright-colored
silks
strolled
about
long
verandas
,
squired
by
men
in
evening
clothes
.
Champagne
corks
popped
,
and
on
lace
tablecloths
seven-course
dinners
were
laid
.
Hams
in
wine
,
pressed
duck
,
pate
de
foie
gras
,
rare
fruits
in
and
out
of
season
,
were
spread
in
profusion
.
Behind
the
shabby
doors
of
the
old
houses
,
poverty
and
hunger
lived
--
all
the
more
bitter
for
the
brave
gentility
with
which
they
were
borne
,
all
the
more
pinching
for
the
outward
show
of
proud
indifference
to
material
wants
.
Dr.
Meade
could
tell
unlovely
stories
of
those
families
who
had
been
driven
from
mansions
to
boarding
houses
and
from
boarding
houses
to
dingy
rooms
on
back
streets
He
had
too
many
lady
patients
who
were
suffering
from
"
weak
hearts
"
and
"
declines
.
"
He
knew
,
and
they
knew
he
knew
,
that
slow
starvation
was
the
trouble
.
He
could
tell
of
consumption
making
inroads
on
entire
families
and
of
pellagra
,
once
found
only
among
poor
whites
,
which
was
now
appearing
in
Atlanta
's
best
families
.
And
there
were
babies
with
thin
rickety
legs
and
mothers
who
could
not
nurse
them
.
Once
the
old
doctor
had
been
wont
to
thank
God
reverently
for
each
child
he
brought
into
the
world
.
Now
he
did
not
think
life
was
such
a
boon
.
It
was
a
hard
world
for
little
babies
and
so
many
died
in
their
first
few
months
of
life
.
Bright
lights
and
wine
,
fiddles
and
dancing
,
brocade
and
broadcloth
in
the
showy
big
houses
and
,
just
around
the
corners
,
slow
starvation
and
cold
.
Arrogance
and
callousness
for
the
conquerors
,
bitter
endurance
and
hatred
for
the
conquered
.
Scarlett
saw
it
all
,
lived
with
it
by
day
,
took
it
to
bed
with
her
at
night
,
dreading
always
what
might
happen
next
.
She
knew
that
she
and
Frank
were
already
in
the
Yankees
'
black
books
,
because
of
Tony
,
and
disaster
might
descend
on
them
at
any
hour
.
But
,
now
of
all
times
,
she
could
not
afford
to
be
pushed
back
to
her
beginnings
--
not
now
with
a
baby
coming
,
the
mill
just
commencing
to
pay
and
Tara
depending
on
her
for
money
until
the
cotton
came
in
in
the
fall
.
Oh
,
suppose
she
should
lose
everything
!
Suppose
she
should
have
to
start
all
over
again
with
only
her
puny
weapons
against
this
mad
world
!
To
have
to
pit
her
red
lips
and
green
eyes
and
her
shrewd
shallow
brain
against
the
Yankees
and
everything
the
Yankees
stood
for
.
Weary
with
dread
,
she
felt
that
she
would
rather
kill
herself
than
try
to
make
a
new
beginning
.
In
the
ruin
and
chaos
of
that
spring
of
1866
,
she
single
mindedly
turned
her
energies
to
making
the
mill
pay
.
There
was
money
in
Atlanta
.
The
wave
of
rebuilding
was
giving
her
the
opportunity
she
wanted
and
she
knew
she
could
make
money
if
only
she
could
stay
out
of
jail
.
But
,
she
told
herself
time
and
again
,
she
would
have
to
walk
easily
,
gingerly
,
be
meek
under
insults
,
yielding
to
injustices
,
never
giving
offense
to
anyone
,
black
or
white
,
who
might
do
her
harm
.
She
hated
the
impudent
free
negroes
as
much
as
anyone
and
her
flesh
crawled
with
fury
every
time
she
heard
their
insulting
remarks
and
high-pitched
laughter
as
she
went
by
.
But
she
never
even
gave
them
a
glance
of
contempt
.
She
hated
the
Carpetbaggers
and
Scallawags
who
were
getting
rich
with
ease
while
she
struggled
,
but
she
said
nothing
in
condemnation
of
them
.
No
one
in
Atlanta
could
have
loathed
the
Yankees
more
than
she
,
for
the
very
sight
of
a
blue
uniform
made
her
sick
with
rage
,
but
even
in
the
privacy
of
her
family
she
kept
silent
about
them
.
