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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Унесенные ветром
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- Стр. 388/927
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Scarlett
saw
it
was
Ellen
's
gold
thimble
that
he
held
.
How
often
she
had
seen
it
gleaming
in
and
out
of
Ellen
's
fancy
work
.
The
sight
of
it
brought
back
too
many
hurting
memories
of
the
slender
hand
which
had
worn
it
.
There
it
lay
in
this
stranger
's
calloused
dirty
palm
and
soon
it
would
find
its
way
North
and
onto
the
finger
of
some
Yankee
woman
who
would
be
proud
to
wear
stolen
things
.
Ellen
's
thimble
!
Scarlett
dropped
her
head
so
the
enemy
could
not
see
her
cry
and
the
tears
fell
slowly
down
on
the
baby
's
head
.
Through
the
blur
,
she
saw
the
men
moving
toward
the
doorway
,
heard
the
sergeant
calling
commands
in
a
loud
rough
voice
.
They
were
going
and
Tara
was
safe
,
but
with
the
pain
of
Ellen
's
memory
on
her
,
she
was
hardly
glad
.
The
sound
of
the
banging
sabers
and
horses
'
hooves
brought
little
relief
and
she
stood
,
suddenly
weak
and
nerveless
,
as
they
moved
off
down
the
avenue
,
every
man
laden
with
stolen
goods
,
clothing
,
blankets
,
pictures
,
hens
and
ducks
,
the
sow
.
Then
to
her
nostrils
was
borne
the
smell
of
smoke
and
she
turned
,
too
weak
with
lessening
strain
,
to
care
about
the
cotton
.
Through
the
open
windows
of
the
dining
room
,
she
saw
smoke
drifting
lazily
out
of
the
negro
cabins
.
There
went
the
cotton
.
There
went
the
tax
money
and
part
of
the
money
which
was
to
see
them
through
this
bitter
winter
.
There
was
nothing
she
could
do
about
it
either
,
except
watch
.
She
had
seen
fires
in
cotton
before
and
she
knew
how
difficult
they
were
to
put
out
,
even
with
many
men
laboring
at
it
.
Thank
God
,
the
quarters
were
so
far
from
the
house
!
Thank
God
,
there
was
no
wind
today
to
carry
sparks
to
the
roof
of
Tara
!
Suddenly
she
swung
about
,
rigid
as
a
pointer
,
and
stared
with
horror-struck
eyes
down
the
hall
,
down
the
covered
passageway
toward
the
kitchen
.
There
was
smoke
coming
from
the
kitchen
!
Somewhere
between
the
hall
and
the
kitchen
,
she
laid
the
baby
down
.
Somewhere
she
flung
off
Wade
's
grip
,
slinging
him
against
the
wall
.
She
burst
into
the
smoke-filled
kitchen
and
reeled
back
,
coughing
,
her
eyes
streaming
tears
from
the
smoke
.
Again
she
plunged
in
,
her
skirt
held
over
her
nose
.
The
room
was
dark
,
lit
as
it
was
by
one
small
window
,
and
so
thick
with
smoke
that
she
was
blinded
,
but
she
could
hear
the
hiss
and
crackle
of
flames
.
Dashing
a
hand
across
her
eyes
,
she
peered
squinting
and
saw
thin
lines
of
flame
creeping
across
the
kitchen
floor
,
toward
the
walls
.
Someone
had
scattered
the
blazing
logs
in
the
open
fireplace
across
the
whole
room
and
the
tinder-dry
pine
floor
was
sucking
in
the
flames
and
spewing
them
up
like
water
.
Back
she
rushed
to
the
dining
room
and
snatched
a
rag
rug
from
the
floor
,
spilling
two
chairs
with
a
crash
.
"
I
'll
never
beat
it
out
--
never
,
never
!
Oh
,
God
,
if
only
there
was
someone
to
help
!
Tara
is
gone
--
gone
!
Oh
,
God
!
This
was
what
that
little
wretch
meant
when
he
said
he
'd
give
me
something
to
remember
him
by
!
Oh
,
if
I
'd
only
let
him
have
the
sword
!
"
