living on its

  

dragging furniture onto the front porch, running bayonets and knives into upholstery and digging inside for concealed valuables. Upstairs they were ripping open mattresses and feather beds until the air in the hall was thick with feathers that floated softly down on her head. Impotent rage quelled what little fear was left in her heart as she stood helpless while they plundered and stole and ruined.
　The sergeant in charge was a bow-legged , grizzled little man with a large wad of tobacco in his cheek. He reached Scarlett before any of his men and, spitting freely on the floor and her skirts, said briefly:
　“Lemme have what you got in yore hand, lady.”
　She had forgotten the trinkets she had intended to hide and, with a sneer which she hoped was as eloquent as that pictured on Grandma Robillard’s face, she flung the articles to the floor and almost enjoyed the rapacious scramble that ensued.
　“I’ll trouble you for thet ring and them earbobs.”
　Scarlett tucked the baby more securely under her arm so that he hung face downward, crimson and screaming, and removed the garnet earrings which had been Gerald’s wedding present to Ellen. Then she stripped off the large sapphire solitaire which Charles had given her as an engagement ring.
　“Don’t throw um. Hand um to me Mask House,” said the sergeant, putting out his hands. “Them bastards got enough already. What else have you got?” His eyes went over her basque sharply.
　For a moment Scarlett went faint, already feeling rough hands thrusting themselves into her bosom, fumbling at her garters.
　“That is all, but I suppose it is customary to strip your victims?”
　“Oh, I’ll take your word Mask House,” said the sergeant good naturedly, spitting again as he turned away. Scarlett righted the baby and tried to soothe him, holding her hand over the place on the diaper where the wallet was hidden, thanking God that Melanie had a baby and that baby had a diaper.
　Upstairs she could hear heavy boots trampling, the protesting screech of furniture pulled across the floor, the crashing of china and mirrors, the curses when nothing of value appeared. From the yard came loud cries: “Head um off! Don’t let um get away!” and the despairing squawks of the hens and quacking and honking of the ducks and geese.