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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 101/927
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On
the
outskirts
of
town
were
the
remount
depots
where
horses
and
mules
milled
about
in
large
corrals
,
and
along
side
streets
were
the
hospitals
.
As
Uncle
Peter
told
her
about
them
,
Scarlett
felt
that
Atlanta
must
be
a
city
of
the
wounded
,
for
there
were
general
hospitals
,
contagious
hospitals
,
convalescent
hospitals
without
number
.
And
every
day
the
trains
just
below
Five
Points
disgorged
more
sick
and
more
wounded
.
The
little
town
was
gone
and
the
face
of
the
rapidly
growing
city
was
animated
with
never-ceasing
energy
and
bustle
.
The
sight
of
so
much
hurrying
made
Scarlett
,
fresh
from
rural
leisure
and
quiet
,
almost
breathless
,
but
she
liked
it
.
There
was
an
exciting
atmosphere
about
the
place
that
uplifted
her
.
It
was
as
if
she
could
actually
feel
the
accelerated
steady
pulse
of
the
town
's
heart
beating
in
time
with
her
own
.
As
they
slowly
made
their
way
through
the
mudholes
of
the
town
's
chief
street
,
she
noted
with
interest
all
the
new
buildings
and
the
new
faces
.
The
sidewalks
were
crowded
with
men
in
uniform
,
bearing
the
insignia
of
all
ranks
and
all
service
branches
;
the
narrow
street
was
jammed
with
vehicles
--
carriages
,
buggies
,
ambulances
,
covered
army
wagons
with
profane
drivers
swearing
as
the
mules
struggled
through
the
ruts
;
gray-clad
couriers
dashed
spattering
through
the
streets
from
one
headquarters
to
another
,
bearing
orders
and
telegraphic
dispatches
;
convalescents
limped
about
on
crutches
,
usually
with
a
solicitous
lady
at
either
elbow
;
bugle
and
drum
and
barked
orders
sounded
from
the
drill
fields
where
the
recruits
were
being
turned
into
soldiers
;
and
with
her
heart
in
her
throat
,
Scarlett
had
her
first
sight
of
Yankee
uniforms
,
as
Uncle
Peter
pointed
with
his
whip
to
a
detachment
of
dejected-looking
bluecoats
being
shepherded
toward
the
depot
by
a
squad
of
Confederates
with
fixed
bayonets
,
to
entrain
for
the
prison
camp
.
"
Oh
,
"
thought
Scarlett
,
with
the
first
feeling
of
real
pleasure
she
had
experienced
since
the
day
of
the
barbecue
,
"
I
'm
going
to
like
it
here
!
It
's
so
alive
and
exciting
!
"
The
town
was
even
more
alive
than
she
realized
,
for
there
were
new
barrooms
by
the
dozens
;
prostitutes
,
following
the
army
,
swarmed
the
town
and
bawdy
houses
were
blossoming
with
women
to
the
consternation
of
the
church
people
.
Every
hotel
,
boarding
house
and
private
residence
was
crammed
with
visitors
who
had
come
to
be
near
wounded
relatives
in
the
big
Atlanta
hospitals
.
There
were
parties
and
balls
and
bazaars
every
week
and
war
weddings
without
number
,
with
the
grooms
on
furlough
in
bright
gray
and
gold
braid
and
the
brides
in
blockade-run
finery
,
aisles
of
crossed
swords
,
toasts
drunk
in
blockaded
champagne
and
tearful
farewells
.
Nightly
the
dark
tree-lined
streets
resounded
with
dancing
feet
,
and
from
parlors
tinkled
pianos
where
soprano
voices
blended
with
those
of
soldier
guests
in
the
pleasing
melancholy
of
"
The
Bugles
Sang
Truce
"
and
"
Your
Letter
Came
,
but
Came
Too
Late
"
--
plaintive
ballads
that
brought
exciting
tears
to
soft
eyes
which
had
never
known
the
tears
of
real
grief
.
As
they
progressed
down
the
street
,
through
the
sucking
mud
,
Scarlett
bubbled
over
with
questions
and
Peter
answered
them
,
pointing
here
and
there
with
his
whip
,
proud
to
display
his
knowledge
.
"
Dat
air
de
arsenal
.
Yas
'm
,
dey
keeps
guns
an
'
sech
lak
dar
.
No
'm
,
dem
air
ain
'
sto
's
,
dey
's
blockade
awfisses
.
Law
,
Miss
Scarlett
,
doan
you
know
whut
blockade
awfisses
is
?
Dey
's
awfisses
whar
furriners
stays
dat
buy
us
Confedruts
'
cotton
an
'
ship
it
outer
Cha
's
ton
and
Wilmi
n'ton
an
'
ship
us
back
gunpowder
.
No
'm
,
Ah
ain
'
sho
whut
kine
of
furriners
dey
is
.
Miss
Pitty
,
she
say
dey
is
Inlish
but
kain
nobody
unnerstan
a
'
wud
dey
says
.
Yas
'm
'
tis
pow
'
ful
smoky
an
'
de
soot
jes
'
ruinin
'
Miss
Pitty
's
silk
cuttins
.
It
'
frum
de
foun
'
ry
an
'
de
rollin
'
mills
.
An
'
de
noise
dey
meks
at
night
!
Kain
nobody
sleep
.
No
'm
,
Ah
kain
stop
fer
you
ter
look
around
.
Ah
done
promise
Miss
Pitty
Ah
bring
you
straight
home
...
.
Miss
Scarlett
,
mek
yo
'
cu
'
tsy
.
Dar
's
Miss
Merriwether
an
'
Miss
Elsing
a-bowin
'
to
you
.
"
Scarlett
vaguely
remembered
two
ladies
of
those
names
who
came
from
Atlanta
to
Tara
to
attend
her
wedding
and
she
remembered
that
they
were
Miss
Pittypat
's
best
friends
.
So
she
turned
quickly
where
Uncle
Peter
pointed
and
bowed
.
The
two
were
sitting
in
a
carriage
outside
a
drygoods
store
.
The
proprietor
and
two
clerks
stood
on
the
sidewalk
with
armfuls
of
bolts
of
cotton
cloth
they
had
been
displaying
.
Mrs.
Merriwether
was
a
tall
,
stout
woman
and
so
tightly
corseted
that
her
bust
jutted
forward
like
the
prow
of
a
ship
.
Her
iron-gray
hair
was
eked
out
by
a
curled
false
fringe
that
was
proudly
brown
and
disdained
to
match
the
rest
of
her
hair
.
She
had
a
round
,
highly
colored
face
in
which
was
combined
good-natured
shrewdness
and
the
habit
of
command
.
Mrs.
Elsing
was
younger
,
a
thin
frail
woman
,
who
had
been
a
beauty
,
and
about
her
there
still
clung
a
faded
freshness
,
a
dainty
imperious
air
.
These
two
ladies
with
a
third
,
Mrs.
Whiting
,
were
the
pillars
of
Atlanta
.
They
ran
the
three
churches
to
which
they
belonged
,
the
clergy
,
the
choirs
and
the
parishioners
.
They
organized
bazaars
and
presided
over
sewing
circles
,
they
chaperoned
balls
and
picnics
,
they
knew
who
made
good
matches
and
who
did
not
,
who
drank
secretly
,
who
were
to
have
babies
and
when
.
They
were
authorities
on
the
genealogies
of
everyone
who
was
anyone
in
Georgia
,
South
Carolina
and
Virginia
and
did
not
bother
their
heads
about
the
other
states
,
because
they
believed
that
no
one
who
was
anybody
ever
came
from
states
other
than
these
three
.
