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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 671/927
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"
Oh
,
you
vile
creature
!
To
insinuate
that
poor
Frank
would
--
"
"
Oh
,
good
Lord
!
"
Rhett
broke
into
a
roar
of
laughter
.
"
I
did
n't
mean
he
was
running
around
with
women
!
Frank
!
Oh
,
good
Lord
!
"
He
went
down
the
steps
still
laughing
.
The
march
afternoon
was
windy
and
cold
,
and
Scarlett
pulled
the
lap
robe
high
under
her
arms
as
she
drove
out
the
Decatur
road
toward
Johnnie
Gallegher
's
mill
.
Driving
alone
was
hazardous
these
days
and
she
knew
it
,
more
hazardous
than
ever
before
,
for
now
the
negroes
were
completely
out
of
hand
.
As
Ashley
had
prophesied
,
there
had
been
hell
to
pay
since
the
legislature
refused
to
ratify
the
amendment
.
The
stout
refusal
had
been
like
a
slap
in
the
face
of
the
furious
North
and
retaliation
had
come
swiftly
.
The
North
was
determined
to
force
the
negro
vote
on
the
state
and
,
to
this
end
,
Georgia
had
been
declared
in
rebellion
and
put
under
the
strictest
martial
law
.
Georgia
's
very
existence
as
a
state
had
been
wiped
out
and
it
had
become
,
with
Florida
and
Alabama
,
"
Military
District
Number
Three
,
"
under
the
command
of
a
Federal
general
.
If
life
had
been
insecure
and
frightening
before
this
,
it
was
doubly
so
now
.
The
military
regulations
which
had
seemed
so
stringent
the
year
before
were
now
mild
by
comparison
with
the
ones
issued
by
General
Pope
.
Confronted
with
the
prospect
of
negro
rule
,
the
future
seemed
dark
and
hopeless
,
and
the
embittered
state
smarted
and
writhed
helplessly
.
As
for
the
negroes
,
their
new
importance
went
to
their
heads
,
and
,
realizing
that
they
had
the
Yankee
Army
behind
them
,
their
outrages
increased
.
No
one
was
safe
from
them
.
In
this
wild
and
fearful
time
,
Scarlett
was
frightened
--
frightened
but
determined
,
and
she
still
made
her
rounds
alone
,
with
Frank
's
pistol
tucked
in
the
upholstery
of
the
buggy
.
She
silently
cursed
the
legislature
for
bringing
this
worse
disaster
upon
them
all
.
What
good
had
it
done
,
this
fine
brave
stand
,
this
gesture
which
everyone
called
gallant
?
It
had
just
made
matters
so
much
worse
.
As
she
drew
near
the
path
that
led
down
through
the
bare
trees
into
the
creek
bottom
where
the
Shantytown
settlement
was
,
she
clucked
to
the
horse
to
quicken
his
speed
.
She
always
felt
uneasy
driving
past
this
dirty
,
sordid
cluster
of
discarded
army
tents
and
slave
cabins
.
It
had
the
worst
reputation
of
any
spot
in
or
near
Atlanta
,
for
here
lived
in
filth
outcast
negroes
,
black
prostitutes
and
a
scattering
of
poor
whites
of
the
lowest
order
.
It
was
rumored
to
be
the
refuge
of
negro
and
white
criminals
and
was
the
first
place
the
Yankee
soldiers
searched
when
they
wanted
a
man
.
Shootings
and
cuttings
went
on
here
with
such
regularity
that
the
authorities
seldom
troubled
to
investigate
and
generally
left
the
Shantytowners
to
settle
their
own
dark
affairs
.
Back
in
the
woods
there
was
a
still
that
manufactured
a
cheap
quality
of
corn
whisky
and
,
by
night
,
the
cabins
in
the
creek
bottoms
resounded
with
drunken
yells
and
curses
.
Even
the
Yankees
admitted
that
it
was
a
plague
spot
and
should
be
wiped
out
,
but
they
took
no
steps
in
this
direction
.
Indignation
was
loud
among
the
inhabitants
of
Atlanta
and
Decatur
who
were
forced
to
use
the
road
for
travel
between
the
two
towns
.
Men
went
by
Shantytown
with
their
pistols
loosened
in
their
holsters
and
nice
women
never
willingly
passed
it
,
even
under
the
protection
of
their
men
,
for
usually
there
were
drunken
negro
slatterns
sitting
along
the
road
,
hurling
insults
and
shouting
coarse
words
.
