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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 151/927
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She
saw
the
dark
bulk
of
a
buggy
stop
in
front
of
the
house
and
indistinct
figures
alight
.
Someone
was
with
him
.
Two
figures
paused
at
the
gate
and
she
heard
the
click
of
the
latch
and
Gerald
's
voice
came
plain
,
"
Now
I
'll
be
giving
you
the
'
Lament
for
Robert
Emmet
.
'
'
Tis
a
song
you
should
be
knowing
,
me
lad
.
I
'll
teach
it
to
you
.
"
"
I
'd
like
to
learn
it
,
"
replied
his
companion
,
a
hint
of
buried
laughter
in
his
flat
drawling
voice
.
"
But
not
now
,
Mr.
O'Hara
.
"
"
Oh
,
my
God
,
it
's
that
hateful
Butler
man
!
"
thought
Scarlett
,
at
first
annoyed
.
Then
she
took
heart
.
At
least
they
had
n't
shot
each
other
.
And
they
must
be
on
amicable
terms
to
be
coming
home
together
at
this
hour
and
in
this
condition
.
"
Sing
it
I
will
and
listen
you
will
or
I
'll
be
shooting
you
for
the
Orangeman
you
are
.
"
"
Not
Orangeman
--
Charlestonian
.
"
"
'
Tis
no
better
.
'
Tis
worse
.
I
have
two
sister-inlaws
in
Charleston
and
I
know
.
"
"
Is
he
going
to
tell
the
whole
neighborhood
?
"
thought
Scarlett
panic-stricken
,
reaching
for
her
wrapper
.
But
what
could
she
do
?
She
could
n't
go
downstairs
at
this
hour
of
the
night
and
drag
her
father
in
from
the
street
.
With
no
further
warning
,
Gerald
,
who
was
hanging
on
the
gate
,
threw
back
his
head
and
began
the
"
Lament
,
"
in
a
roaring
bass
.
Scarlett
rested
her
elbows
on
the
window
sill
and
listened
,
grinning
unwillingly
.
It
would
be
a
beautiful
song
,
if
only
her
father
could
carry
a
tune
.
It
was
one
of
her
favorite
songs
and
,
for
a
moment
,
she
followed
the
fine
melancholy
of
those
verses
beginning
:
