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- Стр. 349/927
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"
No
,
Ma
'm
!
Us
ain
'
lef
'
Tara
.
De
Yankees
mout
git
us
.
"
"
I
'll
send
Dilcey
over
to
MacIntosh
.
Perhaps
she
'll
find
something
there
.
And
I
'll
go
to
Twelve
Oaks
.
"
"
Who
wid
,
chile
?
"
"
By
myself
.
Mammy
must
stay
with
the
girls
and
Mr.
Gerald
ca
n't
--
"
Pork
set
up
an
outcry
which
she
found
infuriating
.
There
might
be
Yankees
or
mean
niggers
at
Twelve
Oaks
.
She
must
n't
go
alone
.
"
That
will
be
enough
,
Pork
.
Tell
Dilcey
to
start
immediately
.
And
you
and
Prissy
go
bring
in
the
sow
and
her
litter
,
"
she
said
briefly
,
turning
on
her
heel
.
Mammy
's
old
sunbonnet
,
faded
but
clean
,
hung
on
its
peg
on
the
back
porch
and
Scarlett
put
it
on
her
head
,
remembering
,
as
from
another
world
,
the
bonnet
with
the
curling
green
plume
which
Rhett
had
brought
her
from
Paris
.
She
picked
up
a
large
split-oak
basket
and
started
down
the
back
stairs
,
each
step
jouncing
her
head
until
her
spine
seemed
to
be
trying
to
crash
through
the
top
of
her
skull
.
The
road
down
to
the
river
lay
red
and
scorching
between
the
ruined
cotton
fields
.
There
were
no
trees
to
cast
a
shade
and
the
sun
beat
down
through
Mammy
's
sunbonnet
as
if
it
were
made
of
tarlatan
instead
of
heavy
quilted
calico
,
while
the
dust
floating
upward
sifted
into
her
nose
and
throat
until
she
felt
the
membranes
would
crack
dryly
if
she
spoke
.
Deep
ruts
and
furrows
were
cut
into
the
road
where
horses
had
dragged
heavy
guns
along
it
and
the
red
gullies
on
either
side
were
deeply
gashed
by
the
wheels
.
The
cotton
was
mangled
and
trampled
where
cavalry
and
infantry
,
forced
off
the
narrow
road
by
the
artillery
,
had
marched
through
the
green
bushes
,
grinding
them
into
the
earth
.
Here
and
there
in
the
road
and
fields
lay
buckles
and
bits
of
harness
leather
,
canteens
flattened
by
hooves
and
caisson
wheels
,
buttons
,
blue
caps
,
worn
socks
,
bits
of
bloody
rags
,
all
the
litter
left
by
the
marching
army
.
She
passed
the
clump
of
cedars
and
the
low
brick
wall
which
marked
the
family
burying
ground
,
trying
not
to
think
of
the
new
grave
lying
by
the
three
short
mounds
of
her
little
brothers
.
Oh
,
Ellen
--
She
trudged
on
down
the
dusty
hill
,
passing
the
heap
of
ashes
and
the
stumpy
chimney
where
the
Slattery
house
had
stood
,
and
she
wished
savagely
that
the
whole
tribe
of
them
had
been
part
of
the
ashes
.
If
it
had
n't
been
for
the
Slatterys
--
if
it
had
n't
been
for
that
nasty
Emmie
who
'd
had
a
bastard
brat
by
their
overseer
--
Ellen
would
n't
have
died
.
