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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 424/927
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Every
time
I
give
some
poor
man
my
share
I
think
that
maybe
,
somewhere
on
the
road
up
north
,
some
woman
is
giving
my
Ashley
a
share
of
her
dinner
and
it
's
helping
him
to
get
home
to
me
!
"
"
My
Ashley
.
"
"
Beloved
,
I
am
coming
home
to
you
.
"
Scarlett
turned
away
,
wordless
.
After
that
,
Melanie
noticed
there
was
more
food
on
the
table
when
guests
were
present
,
even
though
Scarlett
might
grudge
them
every
mouthful
.
When
the
soldiers
were
too
ill
to
go
on
,
and
there
were
many
such
,
Scarlett
put
them
to
bed
with
none
too
good
grace
.
Each
sick
man
meant
another
mouth
to
feed
.
Someone
had
to
nurse
him
and
that
meant
one
less
worker
at
the
business
of
fence
building
,
hoeing
,
weeding
and
plowing
.
One
boy
,
on
whose
face
a
blond
fuzz
had
just
begun
to
sprout
,
was
dumped
on
the
front
porch
by
a
mounted
soldier
bound
for
Fayetteville
.
He
had
found
him
unconscious
by
the
roadside
and
had
brought
him
,
across
his
saddle
,
to
Tara
,
the
nearest
house
.
The
girls
thought
he
must
be
one
of
the
little
cadets
who
had
been
called
out
of
military
school
when
Sherman
approached
Milledgeville
but
they
never
knew
,
for
he
died
without
regaining
consciousness
and
a
search
of
his
pockets
yielded
no
information
.
A
nice-looking
boy
,
obviously
a
gentleman
,
and
somewhere
to
the
south
,
some
woman
was
watching
the
roads
,
wondering
where
he
was
and
when
he
was
coming
home
,
just
as
she
and
Melanie
,
with
a
wild
hope
in
their
hearts
,
watched
every
bearded
figure
that
came
up
their
walk
.
They
buried
the
cadet
in
the
family
burying
ground
,
next
to
the
three
little
O'Hara
boys
,
and
Melanie
cried
sharply
as
Pork
filled
in
the
grave
,
wondering
in
her
heart
if
strangers
were
doing
this
same
thing
to
the
tall
body
of
Ashley
.
Will
Benteen
was
another
soldier
,
like
the
nameless
boy
,
who
arrived
unconscious
across
the
saddle
of
a
comrade
.
Will
was
acutely
ill
with
pneumonia
and
when
the
girls
put
him
to
bed
,
they
feared
he
would
soon
join
the
boy
in
the
burying
ground
.
He
had
the
sallow
malarial
face
of
the
south
Georgia
Cracker
,
pale
pinkish
hair
and
washed-out
blue
eyes
which
even
in
delirium
were
patient
and
mild
.
One
of
his
legs
was
gone
at
the
knee
and
to
the
stump
was
fitted
a
roughly
whittled
wooden
peg
.
He
was
obviously
a
Cracker
,
just
as
the
boy
they
had
buried
so
short
a
while
ago
was
obviously
a
planter
's
son
.
Just
how
the
girls
knew
this
they
could
not
say
.
Certainly
Will
was
no
dirtier
,
no
more
hairy
,
no
more
lice
infested
than
many
fine
gentlemen
who
came
to
Tara
.
Certainly
the
language
he
used
in
his
delirium
was
no
less
grammatical
than
that
of
the
Tarleton
twins
.
But
they
knew
instinctively
,
as
they
knew
thoroughbred
horses
from
scrubs
,
that
he
was
not
of
their
class
.
But
this
knowledge
did
not
keep
them
from
laboring
to
save
him
.
Emaciated
from
a
year
in
a
Yankee
prison
,
exhausted
by
his
long
tramp
on
his
ill-fitting
wooden
peg
,
he
had
little
strength
to
combat
pneumonia
and
for
days
he
lay
in
the
bed
moaning
,
trying
to
get
up
,
fighting
battles
over
again
.
