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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 501/927
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"
Thank
you
,
but
they
may
not
hang
you
till
it
's
too
late
to
pay
the
taxes
,
"
she
said
with
a
sudden
malice
that
matched
his
own
,
and
she
meant
it
.
It
was
raining
when
she
came
out
of
the
building
and
the
sky
was
a
dull
putty
color
.
The
soldiers
on
the
square
had
taken
shelter
in
their
huts
and
the
streets
were
deserted
.
There
was
no
vehicle
in
sight
and
she
knew
she
would
have
to
walk
the
long
way
home
.
The
brandy
glow
faded
as
she
trudged
along
.
The
cold
wind
made
her
shiver
and
the
chilly
needle-like
drops
drove
hard
into
her
face
.
The
rain
quickly
penetrated
Aunt
Pitty
's
thin
cloak
until
it
hung
in
clammy
folds
about
her
.
She
knew
the
velvet
dress
was
being
ruined
and
as
for
the
tail
feathers
on
the
bonnet
,
they
were
as
drooping
and
draggled
as
when
their
former
owner
had
worn
them
about
the
wet
barn
yard
of
Tara
.
The
bricks
of
the
sidewalk
were
broken
and
,
for
long
stretches
,
completely
gone
.
In
these
spots
the
mud
was
ankle
deep
and
her
slippers
stuck
in
it
as
if
it
were
glue
,
even
coming
completely
off
her
feet
.
Every
time
she
bent
over
to
retrieve
them
,
the
hem
of
the
dress
fell
in
the
mud
.
She
did
not
even
try
to
avoid
puddles
but
stepped
dully
into
them
,
dragging
her
heavy
skirts
after
her
.
She
could
feel
her
wet
petticoat
and
pantalets
cold
about
her
ankles
,
but
she
was
beyond
caring
about
the
wreck
of
the
costume
on
which
she
had
gambled
so
much
.
She
was
chilled
and
disheartened
and
desperate
.
How
could
she
ever
go
back
to
Tara
and
face
them
after
her
brave
words
?
How
could
she
tell
them
they
must
all
go
--
somewhere
?
How
could
she
leave
it
all
,
the
red
fields
,
the
tall
pines
,
the
dark
swampy
bottom
lands
,
the
quiet
burying
ground
where
Ellen
lay
in
the
cedars
'
deep
shade
?
Hatred
of
Rhett
burned
in
her
heart
as
she
plodded
along
the
slippery
way
.
What
a
blackguard
he
was
!
She
hoped
they
did
hang
him
,
so
she
would
never
have
to
face
him
again
with
his
knowledge
of
her
disgrace
and
her
humiliation
.
Of
course
,
he
could
have
gotten
the
money
for
her
if
he
'd
wanted
to
get
it
.
Oh
,
hanging
was
too
good
for
him
!
Thank
God
,
he
could
n't
see
her
now
,
with
her
clothes
soaking
wet
and
her
hair
straggling
and
her
teeth
chattering
.
How
hideous
she
must
look
and
how
he
would
laugh
!
The
negroes
she
passed
turned
insolent
grins
at
her
and
laughed
among
themselves
as
she
hurried
by
,
slipping
and
sliding
in
the
mud
,
stopping
,
panting
to
replace
her
slippers
.
How
dared
they
laugh
,
the
black
apes
!
How
dared
they
grin
at
her
,
Scarlett
O'Hara
of
Tara
!
She
'd
like
to
have
them
all
whipped
until
the
blood
ran
down
their
backs
.
What
devils
the
Yankees
were
to
set
them
free
,
free
to
jeer
at
white
people
!
As
she
walked
down
Washington
Street
,
the
landscape
was
as
dreary
as
her
own
heart
.
Here
there
was
none
of
the
bustle
and
cheerfulness
which
she
had
noted
on
Peachtree
Street
.
Here
many
handsome
homes
had
once
stood
,
but
few
of
them
had
been
rebuilt
.
Smoked
foundations
and
the
lonesone
blackened
chimneys
,
now
known
as
"
Sherman
's
Sentinels
,
"
appeared
with
disheartening
frequency
.
Overgrown
paths
led
to
what
had
been
houses
--
old
lawns
thick
with
dead
weeds
,
carriage
blocks
bearing
names
she
knew
so
well
,
hitching
posts
which
would
never
again
know
the
knot
of
reins
.
Cold
wind
and
rain
,
mud
and
bare
trees
,
silence
and
desolation
.
How
wet
her
feet
were
and
how
long
the
journey
home
!
She
heard
the
splash
of
hooves
behind
her
and
moved
farther
over
on
the
narrow
sidewalk
to
avoid
more
mud
splotches
on
Aunt
Pittypat
's
cloak
.
A
horse
and
buggy
came
slowly
up
the
road
and
she
turned
to
watch
it
,
determined
to
beg
a
ride
if
the
driver
was
a
white
person
.
The
rain
obscured
her
vision
as
the
buggy
came
abreast
,
but
she
saw
the
driver
peer
over
the
tarpaulin
that
stretched
from
the
dashboard
to
his
chin
.
There
was
something
familiar
about
his
face
and
as
she
stepped
out
into
the
road
to
get
a
closer
view
,
there
was
an
embarrassed
little
cough
from
the
man
and
a
well-known
voice
cried
in
accents
of
pleasure
and
astonishment
:
"
Surely
,
it
ca
n't
be
Miss
Scarlett
!
"
"
Oh
,
Mr.
Kennedy
!
"
she
cried
,
splashing
across
the
road
and
leaning
on
the
muddy
wheel
,
heedless
of
further
damage
to
the
cloak
.
"
I
was
never
so
glad
to
see
anybody
in
my
life
!
"
