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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 465/927
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"
Den
us
'll
walk
,
"
said
Mammy
sternly
.
"
Drive
on
,
nigger
.
"
She
picked
up
the
carpetbag
which
held
Scarlett
's
new
velvet
frock
and
bonnet
and
nightgown
and
tucked
the
neat
bandanna
bundle
that
contained
her
own
belongings
under
her
arm
and
shepherded
Scarlett
across
the
wet
expanse
of
cinders
.
Scarlett
did
not
argue
the
matter
,
much
as
she
preferred
to
ride
,
for
she
wished
no
disagreement
with
Mammy
.
Ever
since
yesterday
afternoon
when
Mammy
had
caught
her
with
the
velvet
curtains
,
there
had
been
an
alert
suspicious
look
in
her
eyes
which
Scarlett
did
not
like
.
It
was
going
to
be
difficult
to
escape
from
her
chaperonage
and
she
did
not
intend
to
rouse
Mammy
's
fighting
blood
before
it
was
absolutely
necessary
.
As
they
walked
along
the
narrow
sidewalk
toward
Peachtree
,
Scarlett
was
dismayed
and
sorrowful
,
for
Atlanta
looked
so
devastated
and
different
from
what
she
remembered
.
They
passed
beside
what
had
been
the
Atlanta
Hotel
where
Rhett
and
Uncle
Henry
had
lived
and
of
that
elegant
hostelry
there
remained
only
a
shell
,
a
part
of
the
blackened
walls
.
The
warehouses
which
had
bordered
the
train
tracks
for
a
quarter
of
a
mile
and
held
tons
of
military
supplies
had
not
been
rebuilt
and
their
rectangular
foundations
looked
dreary
under
the
dark
sky
.
Without
the
wall
of
buildings
on
either
side
and
with
the
car
shed
gone
,
the
railroad
tracks
seemed
bare
and
exposed
.
Somewhere
amid
these
ruins
,
undistinguishable
from
the
others
,
lay
what
remained
of
her
own
warehouse
on
the
property
Charles
had
left
her
.
Uncle
Henry
had
paid
last
year
's
taxes
on
it
for
her
.
She
'd
have
to
repay
that
money
some
time
.
That
was
something
else
to
worry
about
.
As
they
turned
the
corner
into
Peachtree
Street
and
she
looked
toward
Five
Points
,
she
cried
out
with
shock
.
Despite
all
Frank
had
told
her
about
the
town
burning
to
the
ground
,
she
had
never
really
visualized
complete
destruction
.
In
her
mind
the
town
she
loved
so
well
still
stood
full
of
close-packed
buildings
and
fine
houses
.
But
this
Peachtree
Street
she
was
looking
upon
was
so
denuded
of
landmarks
it
was
as
unfamiliar
as
if
she
had
never
seen
it
before
.
This
muddy
street
down
which
she
had
driven
a
thousand
times
during
the
war
,
along
which
she
had
fled
with
ducked
head
and
fear-quickened
legs
when
shells
burst
over
her
during
the
siege
,
this
street
she
had
last
seen
in
the
heat
and
hurry
and
anguish
of
the
day
of
the
retreat
,
was
so
strange
looking
she
felt
like
crying
.
Though
many
new
buildings
had
sprung
up
in
the
year
since
Sherman
marched
out
of
the
burning
town
and
the
Confederates
returned
,
there
were
still
wide
vacant
lots
around
Five
Points
where
heaps
of
smudged
broken
bricks
lay
amid
a
jumble
of
rubbish
,
dead
weeds
and
broom-sedge
.
There
were
the
remains
of
a
few
buildings
she
remembered
,
roofless
brick
walls
through
which
the
dull
daylight
shone
,
glassless
windows
gaping
,
chimneys
towering
lonesomely
.
Here
and
there
her
eyes
gladly
picked
out
a
familiar
store
which
had
partly
survived
shell
and
fire
and
had
been
repaired
,
the
fresh
red
of
new
brick
glaring
bright
against
the
smut
of
the
old
walls
.
On
new
store
fronts
and
new
office
windows
she
saw
the
welcome
names
of
men
she
knew
but
more
often
the
names
were
unfamiliar
,
especially
the
dozens
of
shingles
of
strange
doctors
and
lawyers
and
cotton
merchants
.
Once
she
had
known
practically
everyone
in
Atlanta
and
the
sight
of
so
many
strange
names
depressed
her
.
But
she
was
cheered
by
the
sight
of
new
buildings
going
up
all
along
the
street
.
There
were
dozens
of
them
and
several
were
three
stories
high
!
Everywhere
building
was
going
on
,
for
as
she
looked
down
the
street
,
trying
to
adjust
her
mind
to
the
new
Atlanta
,
she
heard
the
blithe
sound
of
hammers
and
saws
,
noticed
scaffoldings
rising
and
saw
men
climbing
ladders
with
hods
of
bricks
on
their
shoulders
.
She
looked
down
the
street
she
loved
so
well
and
her
eyes
misted
a
little
.
"
They
burned
you
,
"
she
thought
,
"
and
they
laid
you
flat
.
But
they
did
n't
lick
you
.
They
could
n't
lick
you
.
You
'll
grow
back
just
as
big
and
sassy
as
you
used
to
be
!
"
As
she
walked
along
Peachtree
,
followed
by
the
waddling
Mammy
,
she
found
the
sidewalks
just
as
crowded
as
they
were
at
the
height
of
the
war
and
there
was
the
same
air
of
rush
and
bustle
about
the
resurrecting
town
which
had
made
her
blood
sing
when
she
came
here
,
so
long
ago
,
on
her
first
visit
to
Aunt
Pitty
.
There
seemed
to
be
just
as
many
vehicles
wallowing
in
the
mud
holes
as
there
had
been
then
,
except
that
there
were
no
Confederate
ambulances
,
and
just
as
many
horses
and
mules
tethered
to
hitching
racks
in
front
of
the
wooden
awnings
of
the
stores
.
Though
the
sidewalks
were
jammed
,
the
faces
she
saw
were
as
unfamiliar
as
the
signs
overhead
,
new
people
,
many
rough-looking
men
and
tawdrily
dressed
women
.
The
streets
were
black
with
loafing
negroes
who
leaned
against
walls
or
sat
on
the
curbing
watching
vehicles
go
past
with
the
naive
curiosity
of
children
at
a
circus
parade
.
