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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 329/927
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Silence
fell
and
in
the
silence
an
idea
too
monstrous
for
words
took
form
.
She
could
not
,
could
not
force
it
to
her
lips
.
She
swallowed
and
swallowed
but
a
sudden
dryness
seemed
to
have
stuck
the
sides
of
her
throat
together
.
Was
this
the
answer
to
the
frightening
riddle
of
Tara
's
silence
?
As
if
answering
the
question
in
her
mind
Gerald
spoke
.
"
Your
mother
--
"
he
said
and
stopped
.
"
And
--
Mother
?
"
"
Your
mother
died
yesterday
.
"
Her
father
's
arm
held
tightly
in
her
own
,
Scarlett
felt
her
way
down
the
wide
dark
hall
which
,
even
in
its
blackness
,
was
as
familiar
as
her
own
mind
.
She
avoided
the
high-backed
chairs
,
the
empty
gun
rack
,
the
old
sideboard
with
its
protruding
claw
feet
,
and
she
felt
herself
drawn
by
instinct
to
the
tiny
office
at
the
back
of
the
house
where
Ellen
always
sat
,
keeping
her
endless
accounts
.
Surely
,
when
she
entered
that
room
,
Mother
would
again
be
sitting
there
before
the
secretary
and
would
look
up
,
quill
poised
,
and
rise
with
sweet
fragrance
and
rustling
hoops
to
meet
her
tired
daughter
.
Ellen
could
not
be
dead
,
not
even
though
Pa
had
said
it
,
said
it
over
and
over
like
a
parrot
that
knows
only
one
phrase
:
"
She
died
yesterday
--
she
died
yesterday
--
she
died
yesterday
.
"
Queer
that
she
should
feel
nothing
now
,
nothing
except
a
weariness
that
shackled
her
limbs
with
heavy
iron
chains
and
a
hunger
that
made
her
knees
tremble
.
She
would
think
of
Mother
later
.
She
must
put
her
mother
out
of
her
mind
now
,
else
she
would
stumble
stupidly
like
Gerald
or
sob
monotonously
like
Wade
.
Pork
came
down
the
wide
dark
steps
toward
them
,
hurrying
to
press
close
to
Scarlett
like
a
cold
animal
toward
a
fire
.
"
Lights
?
"
she
questioned
.
"
Why
is
the
house
so
dark
,
Pork
?
Bring
candles
.
"
"
Dey
tuck
all
de
candles
,
Miss
Scarlett
,
all
'
cept
one
we
been
usin
'
ter
fine
things
in
de
dahk
wid
,
an
'
it
's
'
bout
gone
.
Mammy
been
usin
'
a
rag
in
a
dish
of
hawg
fat
fer
a
light
fer
nussin
'
Miss
Careen
an
'
Miss
Suellen
.
"
