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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 450/927
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To
have
visitors
at
this
of
all
times
was
too
much
.
She
'd
hurry
to
her
room
and
plead
a
headache
.
But
when
the
carriage
came
nearer
,
her
flight
was
checked
by
her
amazement
.
It
was
a
new
carriage
,
shiny
with
varnish
,
and
the
harness
was
new
too
,
with
bits
of
polished
brass
here
and
there
.
Strangers
,
certainly
.
No
one
she
knew
had
the
money
for
such
a
grand
new
turn-out
as
this
.
She
stood
in
the
doorway
watching
,
the
cold
draft
blowing
her
skirts
about
her
damp
ankles
.
Then
the
carriage
stopped
in
front
of
the
house
and
Jonas
Wilkerson
alighted
.
Scarlett
was
so
surprised
at
the
sight
of
their
former
overseer
driving
so
fine
a
rig
and
in
so
splendid
a
greatcoat
she
could
not
for
a
moment
believe
her
eyes
.
Will
had
told
her
he
looked
quite
prosperous
since
he
got
his
new
job
with
the
Freedmen
's
Bureau
.
Made
a
lot
of
money
,
Will
said
,
swindling
the
niggers
or
the
government
,
one
or
tuther
,
or
confiscating
folks
'
cotton
and
swearing
it
was
Confederate
government
cotton
.
Certainly
he
never
came
by
all
that
money
honestly
in
these
hard
times
.
And
here
he
was
now
,
stepping
out
of
an
elegant
carriage
and
handing
down
a
woman
dressed
within
an
inch
of
her
life
.
Scarlett
saw
in
a
glance
that
the
dress
was
bright
in
color
to
the
point
of
vulgarity
but
nevertheless
her
eyes
went
over
the
outfit
hungrily
.
It
had
been
so
long
since
she
had
even
seen
stylish
new
clothes
.
Well
!
So
hoops
are
n't
so
wide
this
year
,
she
thought
,
scanning
the
red
plaid
gown
.
And
,
as
she
took
in
the
black
velvet
paletot
,
how
short
jackets
are
!
And
what
a
cunning
hat
!
Bonnets
must
be
out
of
style
,
for
this
hat
was
only
an
absurd
flat
red
velvet
affair
,
perched
on
the
top
of
the
woman
's
head
like
a
stiffened
pancake
.
The
ribbons
did
not
tie
under
the
chin
as
bonnet
ribbons
tied
but
in
the
back
under
the
massive
bunch
of
curls
which
fell
from
the
rear
of
the
hat
,
curls
which
Scarlett
could
not
help
noticing
did
not
match
the
woman
's
hair
in
either
color
or
texture
.
As
the
woman
stepped
to
the
ground
and
looked
toward
the
house
,
Scarlett
saw
there
was
something
familiar
about
the
rabbity
face
,
caked
with
white
powder
.
"
Why
,
it
's
Emmie
Slattery
!
"
she
cried
,
so
surprised
she
spoke
the
words
aloud
.
"
Yes
'm
,
it
's
me
,
"
said
Emmie
,
tossing
her
head
with
an
ingratiating
smile
and
starting
toward
the
steps
.
Emmie
Slattery
!
The
dirty
tow-headed
slut
whose
illegitimate
baby
Ellen
had
baptized
,
Emmie
who
had
given
typhoid
to
Ellen
and
killed
her
.
This
overdressed
,
common
,
nasty
piece
of
poor
white
trash
was
coming
up
the
steps
of
Tara
,
bridling
and
grinning
as
if
she
belonged
here
.
Scarlett
thought
of
Ellen
and
,
in
a
rush
,
feeling
came
back
into
the
emptiness
of
her
mind
,
a
murderous
rage
so
strong
it
shook
her
like
the
ague
.
"
Get
off
those
steps
,
you
trashy
wench
!
"
she
cried
.
"
Get
off
this
land
!
Get
out
!
"
