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- Стр. 519/927
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The
musicians
after
preliminary
tunings
and
whangings
broke
into
"
Old
Dan
Tucker
"
and
Tommy
turned
to
her
.
"
Will
you
dance
,
Scarlett
?
I
ca
n't
favor
you
but
Hugh
or
Rene
--
"
"
No
,
thank
you
.
I
'm
still
mourning
my
mother
,
"
said
Scarlett
hastily
.
"
I
will
sit
them
out
.
"
Her
eyes
singled
out
Frank
Kennedy
and
beckoned
him
from
the
side
of
Mrs.
Elsing
.
"
I
'll
sit
in
that
alcove
yonder
if
you
'll
bring
me
some
refreshments
and
then
we
can
have
a
nice
chat
,
"
she
told
Frank
as
the
other
three
men
moved
off
.
When
he
had
hurried
away
to
bring
her
a
glass
of
wine
and
a
paper
thin
slice
of
cake
,
Scarlett
sat
down
in
the
alcove
at
the
end
of
the
drawing
room
and
carefully
arranged
her
skirts
so
that
the
worst
spots
would
not
show
.
The
humiliating
events
of
the
morning
with
Rhett
were
pushed
from
her
mind
by
the
excitement
of
seeing
so
many
people
and
hearing
music
again
.
Tomorrow
she
would
think
of
Rhett
's
conduct
and
her
shame
and
they
would
make
her
writhe
again
.
Tomorrow
she
would
wonder
if
she
had
made
any
impression
on
Frank
's
hurt
and
bewildered
heart
.
But
not
tonight
.
Tonight
she
was
alive
to
her
finger
tips
,
every
sense
alert
with
hope
,
her
eyes
sparkling
.
She
looked
from
the
alcove
into
the
huge
drawing
room
and
watched
the
dancers
,
remembering
how
beautiful
this
room
had
been
when
first
she
came
to
Atlanta
during
the
war
.
Then
the
hardwood
floors
had
shone
like
glass
,
and
overhead
the
chandelier
with
its
hundreds
of
tiny
prisms
had
caught
and
reflected
every
ray
of
the
dozens
of
candles
it
bore
,
flinging
them
,
like
gleams
from
diamonds
,
flame
and
sapphire
about
the
room
.
The
old
portraits
on
the
walls
had
been
dignified
and
gracious
and
had
looked
down
upon
guests
with
an
air
of
mellowed
hospitality
.
The
rosewood
sofas
had
been
soft
and
inviting
and
one
of
them
,
the
largest
,
had
stood
in
the
place
of
honor
in
this
same
alcove
where
she
now
sat
.
It
had
been
Scarlett
's
favorite
seat
at
parties
.
From
this
point
stretched
the
pleasant
vista
of
drawing
room
and
dining
room
beyond
,
the
oval
mahogany
table
which
seated
twenty
and
the
twenty
slim-legged
chairs
demurely
against
the
walls
,
the
massive
sideboard
and
buffet
weighted
with
heavy
silver
,
with
seven-branched
candlesticks
,
goblets
,
cruets
,
decanters
and
shining
little
glasses
.
Scarlett
had
sat
on
that
sofa
so
often
in
the
first
years
of
the
war
,
always
with
some
handsome
officer
beside
her
,
and
listened
to
violin
and
bull
fiddle
,
accordion
and
banjo
,
and
heard
the
exciting
swishing
noises
which
dancing
feet
made
on
the
waxed
and
polished
floor
.
Now
the
chandelier
hung
dark
.
It
was
twisted
askew
and
most
of
the
prisms
were
broken
,
as
if
the
Yankee
occupants
had
made
their
beauty
a
target
for
their
boots
.
Now
an
oil
lamp
and
a
few
candles
lighted
the
room
and
the
roaring
fire
in
the
wide
hearth
gave
most
of
the
illumination
.
Its
flickering
light
showed
how
irreparably
scarred
and
splintered
the
dull
old
floor
was
.
Squares
on
the
faded
paper
on
the
wall
gave
evidence
that
once
the
portraits
had
hung
there
,
and
wide
cracks
in
the
plaster
recalled
the
day
during
the
siege
when
a
shell
had
exploded
on
the
house
and
torn
off
parts
of
the
roof
and
second
floor
.
The
heavy
old
mahogany
table
,
spread
with
cake
and
decanters
,
still
presided
in
the
empty-looking
dining
room
but
it
was
scratched
and
the
broken
legs
showed
signs
of
clumsy
repair
.
The
sideboard
,
the
silver
and
the
spindly
chairs
were
gone
.
The
dull-gold
damask
draperies
which
had
covered
the
arching
French
windows
at
the
back
of
the
room
were
missing
,
and
only
the
remnants
of
the
lace
curtains
remained
,
clean
but
obviously
mended
.
