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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 386/927
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"
Yes
.
"
"
Well
,
he
can
have
it
,
"
said
the
sergeant
,
who
was
satisfied
enough
with
the
jewelry
and
trinkets
tied
up
in
his
handkerchief
.
"
But
it
's
got
a
solid-gold
hilt
,
"
insisted
the
little
trooper
.
"
We
'll
leave
her
thet
to
remember
us
by
,
"
grinned
the
sergeant
.
Scarlett
took
the
sword
,
not
even
saying
"
Thank
you
.
"
Why
should
she
thank
these
thieves
for
returning
her
own
property
to
her
?
She
held
the
sword
against
her
while
the
little
cavalryman
argued
and
wrangled
with
the
sergeant
.
"
By
God
,
I
'll
give
these
damn
Rebels
something
to
remember
me
by
,
"
shouted
the
private
finally
when
the
sergeant
,
losing
his
good
nature
,
told
him
to
go
to
hell
and
not
talk
back
.
The
little
man
went
charging
toward
the
back
of
the
house
and
Scarlett
breathed
more
easily
.
They
had
said
nothing
about
burning
the
house
.
They
had
n't
told
her
to
leave
so
they
could
fire
it
.
Perhaps
--
perhaps
--
The
men
came
rambling
into
the
hall
from
the
upstairs
and
the
out
of
doors
.
"
Anything
?
"
questioned
the
sergeant
.
"
One
hog
and
a
few
chickens
and
ducks
.
"
"
Some
corn
and
a
few
yams
and
beans
.
That
wildcat
we
saw
on
the
horse
must
have
given
the
alarm
,
all
right
.
"
