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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Унесенные ветром
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- Стр. 522/927
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But
if
they
were
suffering
as
acutely
from
brutal
circumstances
as
she
was
--
and
they
were
--
how
could
they
maintain
this
air
of
gaiety
and
lightness
of
heart
?
Why
,
indeed
,
should
they
even
try
to
do
it
?
They
were
beyond
her
comprehension
and
vaguely
irritating
.
She
could
n't
be
like
them
.
She
could
n't
survey
the
wreck
of
the
world
with
an
air
of
casual
unconcern
.
She
was
as
hunted
as
a
fox
,
running
with
a
bursting
heart
,
trying
to
reach
a
burrow
before
the
hounds
caught
up
.
Suddenly
she
hated
them
all
because
they
were
different
from
her
,
because
they
carried
their
losses
with
an
air
that
she
could
never
attain
,
would
never
wish
to
attain
.
She
hated
them
,
these
smiling
,
light-footed
strangers
,
these
proud
fools
who
took
pride
in
something
they
had
lost
,
seeming
to
be
proud
that
they
had
lost
it
.
The
women
bore
themselves
like
ladies
and
she
knew
they
were
ladies
,
though
menial
tasks
were
their
daily
lot
and
they
did
n't
know
where
their
next
dress
was
coming
from
.
Ladies
all
!
But
she
could
not
feel
herself
a
lady
,
for
all
her
velvet
dress
and
scented
hair
,
for
all
the
pride
of
birth
that
stood
behind
her
and
the
pride
of
wealth
that
had
once
been
hers
.
Harsh
contact
with
the
red
earth
of
Tara
had
stripped
gentility
from
her
and
she
knew
she
would
never
feel
like
a
lady
again
until
her
table
was
weighted
with
silver
and
crystal
and
smoking
with
rich
food
,
until
her
own
horses
and
carriages
stood
in
her
stables
,
until
black
hands
and
not
white
took
the
cotton
from
Tara
.
"
Ah
!
"
she
thought
angrily
,
sucking
in
her
breath
.
"
That
's
the
difference
!
Even
though
they
're
poor
,
they
still
feel
like
ladies
and
I
do
n't
.
The
silly
fools
do
n't
seem
to
realize
that
you
ca
n't
be
a
lady
without
money
!
"
Even
in
this
flash
of
revelation
,
she
realized
vaguely
that
,
foolish
though
they
seemed
,
theirs
was
the
right
attitude
.
Ellen
would
have
thought
so
.
This
disturbed
her
.
She
knew
she
should
feel
as
these
people
felt
,
but
she
could
not
.
She
knew
she
should
believe
devoutly
,
as
they
did
,
that
a
born
lady
remained
a
lady
,
even
if
reduced
to
poverty
,
but
she
could
not
make
herself
believe
it
now
.
All
her
life
she
had
heard
sneers
hurled
at
the
Yankees
because
their
pretensions
to
gentility
were
based
on
wealth
,
not
breeding
.
But
at
this
moment
,
heresy
though
it
was
,
she
could
not
help
thinking
the
Yankees
were
right
on
this
one
matter
,
even
if
wrong
in
all
others
.
It
took
money
to
be
a
lady
.
She
knew
Ellen
would
have
fainted
had
she
ever
heard
such
words
from
her
daughter
.
No
depth
of
poverty
could
ever
have
made
Ellen
feel
ashamed
.
Ashamed
!
Yes
,
that
was
how
Scarlett
felt
.
Ashamed
that
she
was
poor
and
reduced
to
galling
shifts
and
penury
and
work
that
negroes
should
do
.
She
shrugged
in
irritation
.
Perhaps
these
people
were
right
and
she
was
wrong
but
,
just
the
same
,
these
proud
fools
were
n't
looking
forward
as
she
was
doing
,
straining
every
nerve
,
risking
even
honor
and
good
name
to
get
back
what
they
had
lost
.
It
was
beneath
the
dignity
of
any
of
them
to
indulge
in
a
scramble
for
money
.
The
times
were
rude
and
hard
.
They
called
for
rude
and
hard
struggle
if
one
was
to
conquer
them
.
Scarlett
knew
that
family
tradition
would
forcibly
restrain
many
of
these
people
from
such
a
struggle
--
with
the
making
of
money
admittedly
its
aim
.
They
all
thought
that
obvious
money-making
and
even
talk
of
money
were
vulgar
in
the
extreme
.
Of
course
,
there
were
exceptions
.
Mrs.
Merriwether
and
her
baking
and
Rene
driving
the
pie
wagon
.
And
Hugh
Elsing
cutting
and
peddling
firewood
and
Tommy
contracting
.
And
Frank
having
the
gumption
to
start
a
store
.
But
what
of
the
rank
and
file
of
them
?
The
planters
would
scratch
a
few
acres
and
live
in
poverty
.
The
lawyers
and
doctors
would
go
back
to
their
professions
and
wait
for
clients
who
might
never
come
.
And
the
rest
,
those
who
had
lived
in
leisure
on
their
incomes
?
What
would
happen
to
them
?
But
she
was
n't
going
to
be
poor
all
her
life
.
She
was
n't
going
to
sit
down
and
patiently
wait
for
a
miracle
to
help
her
.
She
was
going
to
rush
into
life
and
wrest
from
it
what
she
could
.
Her
father
had
started
as
a
poor
immigrant
boy
and
had
won
the
broad
acres
of
Tara
.
What
he
had
done
,
his
daughter
could
do
.
She
was
n't
like
these
people
who
had
gambled
everything
on
a
Cause
that
was
gone
and
were
content
to
be
proud
of
having
lost
that
Cause
,
because
it
was
worth
any
sacrifice
.
They
drew
their
courage
from
the
past
.
She
was
drawing
hers
from
the
future
.
Frank
Kennedy
,
at
present
,
was
her
future
.
At
least
,
he
had
the
store
and
he
had
cash
money
.
And
if
she
could
only
marry
him
and
get
her
hands
on
that
money
,
she
could
make
ends
meet
at
Tara
for
another
year
.
And
after
that
--
Frank
must
buy
the
sawmill
.
She
could
see
for
herself
how
quickly
the
town
was
rebuilding
and
anyone
who
could
establish
a
lumber
business
now
,
when
there
was
so
little
competition
,
would
have
a
gold
mine
.
