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Scarlett
began
to
shake
and
her
eyes
burned
with
tears
of
fright
.
The
doctor
was
n't
coming
with
her
.
Melanie
would
die
and
she
had
wished
that
she
would
die
.
The
doctor
was
n't
coming
.
"
Name
of
God
,
Doctor
!
Please
!
"
Dr.
Meade
bit
his
lip
and
his
jaw
hardened
as
his
face
went
cool
again
.
"
Child
,
I
'll
try
.
I
ca
n't
promise
you
.
But
I
'll
try
.
When
we
get
these
men
tended
to
.
The
Yankees
are
coming
and
the
troops
are
moving
out
of
town
.
I
do
n't
know
what
they
'll
do
with
the
wounded
.
There
are
n't
any
trains
.
The
Macon
line
has
been
captured
...
.
But
I
'll
try
.
Run
along
now
.
Do
n't
bother
me
.
There
's
nothing
much
to
bringing
a
baby
.
Just
tie
up
the
cord
...
.
"
He
turned
as
an
orderly
touched
his
arm
and
began
firing
directions
and
pointing
to
this
and
that
wounded
man
.
The
man
at
her
feet
looked
up
at
Scarlett
compassionately
.
She
turned
away
,
for
the
doctor
had
forgotten
her
.
She
picked
her
way
rapidly
through
the
wounded
and
back
to
Peachtree
Street
.
The
doctor
was
n't
coming
.
She
would
have
to
see
it
through
herself
.
Thank
God
,
Prissy
knew
all
about
midwifery
.
Her
head
ached
from
the
heat
and
she
could
feel
her
basque
,
soaking
wet
from
perspiration
,
sticking
to
her
.
Her
mind
felt
numb
and
so
did
her
legs
,
numb
as
in
a
nightmare
when
she
tried
to
run
and
could
not
move
them
.
She
thought
of
the
long
walk
back
to
the
house
and
it
seemed
interminable
.
Then
,
"
The
Yankees
are
coming
!
"
began
to
beat
its
refrain
in
her
mind
again
.
Her
heart
began
to
pound
and
new
life
came
into
her
limbs
.
She
hurried
into
the
crowd
at
Five
Points
,
now
so
thick
there
was
no
room
on
the
narrow
sidewalks
and
she
was
forced
to
walk
in
the
street
.
Long
lines
of
soldiers
were
passing
,
dust
covered
,
sodden
with
weariness
.
There
seemed
thousands
of
them
,
bearded
,
dirty
,
their
guns
slung
over
their
shoulders
,
swiftly
passing
at
route
step
.
Cannon
rolled
past
,
the
drivers
flaying
the
thin
mules
with
lengths
of
rawhide
.
Commissary
wagons
with
torn
canvas
covers
rocked
through
the
ruts
.
Cavalry
raising
clouds
of
choking
dust
went
past
endlessly
.
She
had
never
seen
so
many
soldiers
together
before
.
Retreat
!
Retreat
!
The
army
was
moving
out
.
The
hurrying
lines
pushed
her
back
onto
the
packed
sidewalk
and
she
smelled
the
reek
of
cheap
corn
whisky
.
There
were
women
in
the
mob
near
Decatur
Street
,
garishly
dressed
women
whose
bright
finery
and
painted
faces
gave
a
discordant
note
of
holiday
.
Most
of
them
were
drunk
and
the
soldiers
on
whose
arms
they
hung
were
drunker
.
She
caught
a
fleeting
glimpse
of
a
head
of
red
curls
and
saw
that
creature
,
Belle
Watling
,
heard
her
shrill
drunken
laughter
as
she
clung
for
support
to
a
one-armed
soldier
who
reeled
and
staggered
.
