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- Стр. 359/927
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A
Yankee
,
a
Yankee
with
a
long
pistol
on
his
hip
!
And
she
was
alone
in
the
house
with
three
sick
girls
and
the
babies
!
As
he
lounged
up
the
walk
,
hand
on
holster
,
beady
little
eyes
glancing
to
right
and
left
,
a
kaleidoscope
of
jumbled
pictures
spun
in
her
mind
,
stories
Aunt
Pittypat
had
whispered
of
attacks
on
unprotected
women
,
throat
cuttings
,
houses
burned
over
the
heads
of
dying
women
,
children
bayoneted
because
they
cried
,
all
of
the
unspeakable
horrors
that
lay
bound
up
in
the
name
of
"
Yankee
.
"
Her
first
terrified
impulse
was
to
hide
in
the
closet
,
crawl
under
the
bed
,
fly
down
the
back
stairs
and
run
screaming
to
the
swamp
,
anything
to
escape
him
.
Then
she
heard
his
cautious
feet
on
the
front
steps
and
his
stealthy
tread
as
he
entered
the
hall
and
she
knew
that
escape
was
cut
off
.
Too
cold
with
fear
to
move
,
she
heard
his
progress
from
room
to
room
downstairs
,
his
steps
growing
louder
and
bolder
as
he
discovered
no
one
.
Now
he
was
in
the
dining
room
and
in
a
moment
he
would
walk
out
into
the
kitchen
.
At
the
thought
of
the
kitchen
,
rage
suddenly
leaped
up
in
Scarlett
's
breast
,
so
sharply
that
it
jabbed
at
her
heart
like
a
knife
thrust
,
and
fear
fell
away
before
her
overpowering
fury
.
The
kitchen
!
There
,
over
the
open
kitchen
fire
were
two
pots
,
one
filled
with
apples
stewing
and
the
other
with
a
hodgepodge
of
vegetables
brought
painfully
from
Twelve
Oaks
and
the
MacIntosh
garden
--
dinner
that
must
serve
for
nine
hungry
people
and
hardly
enough
for
two
.
Scarlett
had
been
restraining
her
appetite
for
hours
,
waiting
for
the
return
of
the
others
and
the
thought
of
the
Yankee
eating
their
meager
meal
made
her
shake
with
anger
.
God
damn
them
all
!
They
descended
like
locusts
and
left
Tara
to
starve
slowly
and
now
they
were
back
again
to
steal
the
poor
leavings
.
Her
empty
stomach
writhed
within
her
.
By
God
,
this
was
one
Yankee
who
would
do
no
more
stealing
!
She
slipped
off
her
worn
shoe
and
,
barefooted
,
she
pattered
swiftly
to
the
bureau
,
not
even
feeling
her
festered
toe
.
She
opened
the
top
drawer
soundlessly
and
caught
up
the
heavy
pistol
she
had
brought
from
Atlanta
,
the
weapon
Charles
had
worn
but
never
fired
.
She
fumbled
in
the
leather
box
that
hung
on
the
wall
below
his
saber
and
brought
out
a
cap
.
She
slipped
it
into
place
with
a
hand
that
did
not
shake
.
Quickly
and
noiselessly
,
she
ran
into
the
upper
hall
and
down
the
stairs
,
steadying
herself
on
the
banisters
with
one
hand
and
holding
the
pistol
close
to
her
thigh
in
the
folds
of
her
skirt
.
"
Who
's
there
?
"
cried
a
nasal
voice
and
she
stopped
on
the
middle
of
the
stairs
,
the
blood
thudding
in
her
ears
so
loudly
she
could
hardly
hear
him
.
"
Halt
or
I
'll
shoot
!
"
came
the
voice
.
He
stood
in
the
door
of
the
dining
room
,
crouched
tensely
,
his
pistol
in
one
hand
and
,
in
the
other
,
the
small
rosewood
sewing
box
fitted
with
gold
thimble
,
gold-handled
scissors
and
tiny
gold-topped
acorn
of
emery
.
Scarlett
's
legs
felt
cold
to
the
knees
but
rage
scorched
her
face
.
Ellen
's
sewing
box
in
his
hands
.
She
wanted
to
cry
:
"
Put
it
down
!
Put
it
down
,
you
dirty
--
"
but
words
would
not
come
.
She
could
only
stare
over
the
banisters
at
him
and
watch
his
face
change
from
harsh
tenseness
to
a
half-contemptuous
,
half-ingratiating
smile
.
