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- Стр. 117/927
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When
first
she
looked
at
the
crowd
,
Scarlett
's
heart
had
thump-thumped
with
the
unaccustomed
excitement
of
being
at
a
party
,
but
as
she
half-comprehendingly
saw
the
high-hearted
look
on
the
faces
about
her
,
her
joy
began
to
evaporate
.
Every
woman
present
was
blazing
with
an
emotion
she
did
not
feel
.
It
bewildered
and
depressed
her
.
Somehow
,
the
ball
did
not
seem
so
pretty
nor
the
girls
so
dashing
,
and
the
white
heat
of
devotion
to
the
Cause
that
was
still
shining
on
every
face
seemed
--
why
,
it
just
seemed
silly
!
In
a
sudden
flash
of
self-knowledge
that
made
her
mouth
pop
open
with
astonishment
,
she
realized
that
she
did
not
share
with
these
women
their
fierce
pride
,
their
desire
to
sacrifice
themselves
and
everything
they
had
for
the
Cause
.
Before
horror
made
her
think
:
"
No
--
no
!
I
must
n't
think
such
things
!
They
're
wrong
--
sinful
,
"
she
knew
the
Cause
meant
nothing
at
all
to
her
and
that
she
was
bored
with
hearing
other
people
talk
about
it
with
that
fanatic
look
in
their
eyes
.
The
Cause
did
n't
seem
sacred
to
her
.
The
war
did
n't
seem
to
be
a
holy
affair
,
but
a
nuisance
that
killed
men
senselessly
and
cost
money
and
made
luxuries
hard
to
get
.
She
saw
that
she
was
tired
of
the
endless
knitting
and
the
endless
bandage
rolling
and
lint
picking
that
roughened
the
cuticle
of
her
nails
.
And
oh
,
she
was
so
tired
of
the
hospital
!
Tired
and
bored
and
nauseated
with
the
sickening
gangrene
smells
and
the
endless
moaning
,
frightened
by
the
look
that
coming
death
gave
to
sunken
faces
.
She
looked
furtively
around
her
,
as
the
treacherous
,
blasphemous
thoughts
rushed
through
her
mind
,
fearful
that
someone
might
find
them
written
clearly
upon
her
face
.
Oh
,
why
could
n't
she
feel
like
those
other
women
!
They
were
whole
hearted
and
sincere
in
their
devotion
to
the
Cause
.
They
really
meant
everything
they
said
and
did
.
And
if
anyone
should
ever
suspect
that
she
--
No
,
no
one
must
ever
know
!
She
must
go
on
making
a
pretense
of
enthusiasm
and
pride
in
the
Cause
which
she
could
not
feel
,
acting
out
her
part
of
the
widow
of
a
Confederate
officer
who
bears
her
grief
bravely
,
whose
heart
is
in
the
grave
,
who
feels
that
her
husband
's
death
meant
nothing
if
it
aided
the
Cause
to
triumph
.
Oh
,
why
was
she
different
,
apart
from
these
loving
women
?
She
could
never
love
anything
or
anyone
so
selflessly
as
they
did
.
What
a
lonely
feeling
it
was
--
and
she
had
never
been
lonely
either
in
body
or
spirit
before
.
At
first
she
tried
to
stifle
the
thoughts
,
but
the
hard
self-honesty
that
lay
at
the
base
of
her
nature
would
not
permit
it
.
And
so
,
while
the
bazaar
went
on
,
while
she
and
Melanie
waited
on
the
customers
who
came
to
their
booth
,
her
mind
was
busily
working
,
trying
to
justify
herself
to
herself
--
a
task
which
she
seldom
found
difficult
.
The
other
women
were
simply
silly
and
hysterical
with
their
talk
of
patriotism
and
the
Cause
,
and
the
men
were
almost
as
bad
with
their
talk
of
vital
issues
and
States
'
Rights
.
She
,
Scarlett
O'Hara
Hamilton
,
alone
had
good
hard-headed
Irish
sense
.
She
was
n't
going
to
make
a
fool
out
of
herself
about
the
Cause
,
but
neither
was
she
going
to
make
a
fool
out
of
herself
by
admitting
her
true
feelings
.
She
was
hard-headed
enough
to
be
practical
about
the
situation
,
and
no
one
would
ever
know
how
she
felt
.
How
surprised
the
bazaar
would
be
if
they
knew
what
she
really
was
thinking
!
How
shocked
if
she
suddenly
climbed
on
the
bandstand
and
declared
that
she
thought
the
war
ought
to
stop
,
so
everybody
could
go
home
and
tend
to
their
cotton
and
there
could
be
parties
and
beaux
again
and
plenty
of
pale
green
dresses
.
For
a
moment
,
her
self-justification
buoyed
her
up
but
still
she
looked
about
the
hall
with
distaste
.
The
McLure
girls
'
booth
was
inconspicuous
,
as
Mrs.
Merriwether
had
said
,
and
there
were
long
intervals
when
no
one
came
to
their
corner
and
Scarlett
had
nothing
to
do
but
look
enviously
on
the
happy
throng
.
Melanie
sensed
her
moodiness
but
,
crediting
it
to
longing
for
Charlie
,
did
not
try
to
engage
her
in
conversation
.
She
busied
herself
arranging
the
articles
in
the
booth
in
more
attractive
display
,
while
Scarlett
sat
and
looked
glumly
around
the
room
.
Even
the
banked
flowers
below
the
pictures
of
Mr.
Davis
and
Mr.
Stephens
displeased
her
.
"
It
looks
like
an
altar
,
"
she
sniffed
.
"
And
the
way
they
all
carry
on
about
those
two
,
they
might
as
well
be
the
Father
and
the
Son
!
"
Then
smitten
with
sudden
fright
at
her
irreverence
she
began
hastily
to
cross
herself
by
way
of
apology
but
caught
herself
in
time
.
"
Well
,
it
's
true
,
"
she
argued
with
her
conscience
.
"
Everybody
carries
on
like
they
were
holy
and
they
are
n't
anything
but
men
,
and
mighty
unattractive
looking
ones
at
that
.
"
Of
course
,
Mr.
Stephens
could
n't
help
how
he
looked
for
he
had
been
an
invalid
all
his
life
,
but
Mr.
Davis
--
She
looked
up
at
the
cameo
clean
,
proud
face
.
It
was
his
goatee
that
annoyed
her
the
most
.
Men
should
either
be
clean
shaven
,
mustached
or
wear
full
beards
.
