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Italians have begun voting in four referendums, the most important of which is whether people want Italy to resume nuclear power production. Gucci Tote Bags Anti-nuclear campaigners say the Fukushima disaster in Japan has helped sway public opinion against nuclear. The referendums are also being seen as a test of the popularity of Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi. Italy's last nuclear programme was abandoned in 1987 following the Chernobyl disaster. The government says a nuclear industry is vital to supply about 20% of electricity needs by 2020. But the disaster at the Fukushima plant, which was crippled by the tsunami and earthquake that hit northern Japan in March, has changed the debate entirely. Gucci Travel Bag Now Salvatore Barbera, from the campaign group Greenpeace, says people have seen the dangers and will reject nuclear energy in the referendum "This is an old technology, it's dangerous as we saw in Fukushima," he said. "It's dangerous when it's operating, it's dangerous when you have nuclear waste, no-one in the world knows how to deal with it, and now it's also expensive." 'Environmentally friendly' If Italy does follow Germany and rejects nuclear power, that will be particularly disappointing to many in industry who believe alternative sources of electricity are not reliable. Gucci Shoulder Bags Silvio Rossignoli from the aerospace company Sekur says only nuclear can guarantee supplies. "We want to have nuclear because it's environmentally friendly and it's much cleaner than all the coal and gas," he said. "It's not depending on importing from other countries, where you never know what happens." Italians are also being asked to vote on water privatisation issues and whether government ministers can be exempted from court cases. That is especially important to Mr Berlusconi, who is currently involved with four trials. Gucc Leather Bags
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 Everyone edged forward, in anticipation, trying to imagine what the sedate doctor could propose that would be shocking.
“The dancing is about to begin and the first number will, of course, be a reel, followed by a waltz. The dances
following, the polkas, the schottisches, the mazurkas, will be preceded by short reels. I know the gentle rivalry to lead
the reels very well and so—” The doctor mopped his brow and cast a quizzical glance at the corner, where his wife sat
among the chaperons. “Gentlemen, if you wish to lead a reel with the lady of your choice, you must bargain for her. I
will be auctioneer and the proceeds will go to the hospital.”
Fans stopped in mid-swish and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the hall. The chaperons’ corner was in tumult
and Mrs. Meade, anxious to support her husband in an action of which she heartily disapproved, was at a disadvantage.
Mrs. Elsing, Mrs. Merriwether and Mrs. Whiting were red with indignation. But suddenly the Home Guard gave a cheer and it
was taken up by the other uniformed guests. The young girls clapped their hands and jumped excitedly.
“Don’t you think it’s—it’s just—just a little like a slave auction?” whispered Melanie, staring uncertainly at
the embattled doctor who heretofore had been perfect in her eyes.
Scarlett said nothing but her eyes glittered and her heart contracted with a little pain. If only she were not a widow.
If only she were Scarlett O’Hara again, out there on the floor in an apple-green dress with dark-green velvet ribbons
dangling from her bosom and tuberoses in her black hair—she’d lead that reel. Yes, indeed! There’d be a dozen men
battling for her and paying over money to the doctor. Oh, to have to sit here, a wallflower against her will and see
Fanny or Maybelle lead the first reel as the belle of Atlanta!
Above the tumult sounded the voice of the little Zouave, his Creole accent very obvious: “Eef I may—twenty dollars
for Mees Maybelle Merriwether.”
Maybelle collapsed with blushes against Fanny’s shoulder and the two girls hid their faces in each other’s necks and
giggled, as other voices began calling other names, other amounts of money. Dr. Meade had begun to smile again, ignoring
completely the indignant whispers that came from the Ladies’ Hospital Committee in the corner.
At first, Mrs. Merriwether had stated flatly and loudly that her Maybelle would never take part In such a proceeding;
but as Maybelle’s name was called most often and the amount went up to seventy-five dollars, her protests began to
dwindle. Scarlett leaned her elbows on the counter and almost glared at the excited laughing crowd surging about the
platform, their hands full of Confederate paper money.
Now, they would all dance—except her and the old ladies. Now everyone would have a good time, except her. She saw
Rhett Butler standing just below the doctor and, before she could change the expression of her face, he saw her and one
corner of his mouth went down and one eyebrow went up. She jerked her chin up and turned away from him and suddenly she
heard her own name called—called in an unmistakable Charleston voice that rang out above the hubbub of other names.
“Mrs. Charles Hamilton—one hundred and fifty dollars—in gold.”
A sudden hush fell on the crowd both at the mention of the sum and at the name. Scarlett was so startled she could not
even move. She remained sitting with her chin in her hands, her eyes wide with astonishment. Everybody turned to look at
her. She saw the doctor lean down from the platform and whisper something to Rhett Butler. Probably telling him she was
in mourning and it was impossible for her to appear on the floor. She saw Rhett’s shoulders shrug lazily.
“Another one of our belles, perhaps?” questioned the doctor.
“No,” said Rhett clearly, his eyes sweeping the crowd carelessly, “Mrs. Hamilton.”
“I tell you it is impossible,” said the doctor testily. “Mrs. Hamilton will not—”
Scarlett heard a voice which, at first, she did not recognize as her own.
“Yes, I will!”
She leaped to her feet, her heart hammering so wildly she feared she could not stand, hammering with the thrill of
being the center of attention again, of being the most highly desired girl present and oh, best of all, at the prospect
of dancing again.
“Oh, I don’t care! I don’t care what they say!” she whispered, as a sweet madness swept over her. She tossed her
head and sped out of the booth, tapping her heels like castanets, snapping open her black silk fan to its widest. For a
fleeting instant she saw Melanie’s incredulous face, the look on the chaperons’ faces, the petulant girls, the
enthusiastic approval of the soldiers.
Then she was on the floor and Rhett Butler was advancing toward her through the aisle of the crowd, that nasty mocking
smile on his face. But she didn’t care—didn’t care if he were Abe Lincoln himself! She was going to dance again. She
was going to lead the reel. She swept him a low curtsy and a dazzling smile and he bowed, one hand on his frilled bosom.
Levi, horrified, was quick to cover the situation and bawled: “Choose yo’ padners fo’ de Ferginny reel!”
And the orchestra crashed into that best of all reel tunes, “Dixie.”
“How dare you make me so conspicuous, Captain Butler?”
“But, my dear Mrs. Hamilton, you so obviously wanted to be conspicuous!”
“How could you call my name out in front of everybody?”
“You could have refused.”
“But—I owe it to the Cause—I—I couldn’t think of myself when you were offering so much in gold. Stop laughing,
everyone is looking at us.”
“They will look at us anyway. Don’t try to palm off that twaddle about the Cause to me. You wanted to dance and I
gave you the opportunity. This march is the last figure of the reel, isn’t it?”
“Yes—really, I must stop and sit down now.”
“Why? Have I stepped on your feet?”
“No—but they’ll talk about me.”
“Do you really care—down in your heart?”
“Well—”
“You aren’t committing any crime, are you? Why not dance the waltz with me?”
“But if Mother ever—”
“Still tied to mamma’s apronstrings.”
“Oh, you have the nastiest way of making virtues sound so stupid.”
“But virtues are stupid. Do you care if people talk?”
“No—but—well, let’s don’t talk about it. Thank goodness the waltz is beginning. Reels always leave me breathless.
”
“Don’t dodge my questions. Has what other women said ever mattered to you?”
“Oh, if you’re going to pin me down—no! But a girl is supposed to mind. Tonight, though, I don’t care.”
“Bravo! Now you are beginning to think for yourself instead of letting others think for you. That’s the beginning of
wisdom.”
“Oh, but—”
“When you’ve been talked about as much as I have, you’ll realize how little it matters. Just think, there’s not a
home in Charleston where I am received. Not even my contribution to our just and holy Cause lifts the ban.”
“How dreadful!”
“Oh, not at all. Until you’ve lost your reputation, you never realize what a burden it was or what freedom really is.
”
“You do talk scandalous!”
“Scandalously and truly. Always providing you have enough courage—or money—you can do without a reputation.”
“Money can’t buy everything.”
“Someone must have told you that. You’d never think of such a platitude all by yourself. What can’t it buy?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know—not happiness or love, anyway.”
“Generally it can. And when it can’t it can buy some of the most remarkable substitutes.”
“And have you so much money, Captain Butler?”
“What an ill-bred question, Mrs. Hamilton. I’m surprised. But, yes. For a young man cut off without a shilling in
early youth, I’ve done very well. And I’m sure I’ll clean up a million on the blockade.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes! What most people don’t seem to realize is that there is just as much money to be made out of the wreckage
of a civilization as from the upbuilding of one.”
“And what does all that mean?”
“Your family and my family and everyone here tonight made their money out of changing a wilderness into a
civilization. That’s empire building. There’s good money in empire building. But, there’s more in empire wrecking.”
“What empire are you talking about?”
“This empire we’re living in—the South—the Confederacy—the Cotton Kingdom—it’s breaking up right under our feet.
Only most fools won’t see it and take advantage of the situation created by the collapse. I’m making my fortune out of
the wreckage.”
“Then you really think we’re going to get licked?”
“Yes. Why be an ostrich?”
“Oh, dear, it bores me to talk about such like. Don’t you ever say pretty things, Captain Butler?”
“Would it please you if I said your eyes were twin goldfish bowls filled to the brim with the clearest green water and
that when the fish swim to the top, as they are doing now, you are devilishly charming?”
“Oh, I don’t like that. ... Isn’t the music gorgeous? Oh, I could waltz forever! I didn’t know I had missed it so!
”
“You are the most beautiful dancer I’ve ever held in my arms.”
“Captain Butler, you must not hold me so tightly. Everybody is looking.”
“If no one were looking, would you care?”
“Captain Butler, you forget yourself.”
“Not for a minute. How could I, with you in my arms? ... What is that tune? Isn’t it new?”
“Yes. Isn’t it divine? It’s something we captured from the Yankees.”
“What’s the name of it?”
“ ‘When This Cruel War Is Over.’ ”
“What are the words? Sing them to me.”
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