Унесенные ветром/gone With the Wind (Маргарет Митчелл). Страница 697 из 927

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Her

mind

fled

back

to

the

night

Tony

Fontaine

had

come

to

them

,

hunted

,

exhausted

,

without

money

.

If

he

had

not

reached

their

house

and

received

money

and

a

fresh

horse

,

he

would

have

been

hanged

long

since

.

If

Frank

and

Ashley

were

not

dead

at

this

very

minute

,

they

were

in

Tony

's

position

,

only

worse

.

With

the

house

surrounded

by

soldiers

they

could

n't

come

home

and

get

money

and

clothes

without

being

captured

.

And

probably

every

house

up

and

down

the

street

had

a

similar

guard

of

Yankees

,

so

they

could

not

apply

to

friends

for

aid

.

Even

now

they

might

be

riding

wildly

through

the

night

,

bound

for

Texas

.

But

Rhett

--

perhaps

Rhett

had

reached

them

in

time

.

Rhett

always

had

plenty

of

cash

in

his

pocket

.

Perhaps

he

would

lend

them

enough

to

see

them

through

.

But

that

was

queer

.

Why

should

Rhett

bother

himself

about

Ashley

's

safety

?

Certainly

he

disliked

him

,

certainly

he

professed

a

contempt

for

him

.

Then

why

--

But

this

riddle

was

swallowed

up

in

a

renewed

fear

for

the

safety

of

Ashley

and

Frank

.

"

Oh

,

it

's

all

my

fault

!

"

she

wailed

to

herself

.

"

India

and

Archie

spoke

the

truth

.

It

's

all

my

fault

.

But

I

never

thought

either

of

them

was

foolish

enough

to

join

the

Klan

!

And

I

never

thought

anything

would

really

happen

to

me

!

But

I

could

n't

have

done

otherwise

.

Melly

spoke

the

truth

.

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People

have

to

do

what

they

have

to

do

.

And

I

had

to

keep

the

mills

going

!

I

had

to

have

money

!

And

now

I

'll

probably

lose

it

all

and

somehow

it

's

all

my

fault

!

"

After

a

long

time

Melanie

's

voice

faltered

,

trailed

off

and

was

silent

.

She

turned

her

head

toward

the

window

and

stared

as

though

no

Yankee

soldier

stared

back

from

behind

the

glass

.

The

others

raised

their

heads

,

caught

by

her

listening

pose

,

and

they

too

listened

.

There

was

a

sound

of

horses

'

feet

and

of

singing

,

deadened

by

the

closed

windows

and

doors

,

borne

away

by

the

wind

but

still

recognizable

.

It

was

the

most

hated

and

hateful

of

all

songs

,

the

song

about

Sherman

's

men

"

Marching

through

Georgia

"

and

Rhett

Butler

was

singing

it

.

Hardly

had

he

finished

the

first

lines

when

two

other

voices

,

drunken

voices

,

assailed

him

,

enraged

foolish

voices

that

stumbled

over

words

and

blurred

them

together

.

There

was

a

quick

command

from

Captain

Jaffery

on

the

front

porch

and

the

rapid

tramp

of

feet

.

But

even

before

these

sounds

arose

,

the

ladies

looked

at

one

another

stunned

.

For

the

drunken

voices

expostulating

with

Rhett

were

those

of

Ashley

and

Hugh

Elsing

.

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Voices

rose

louder

on

the

front

walk

,

Captain

Jaffery

's

curt

and

questioning

,

Hugh

's

shrill

with

foolish

laughter

,

Rhett

's

deep

and

reckless

and

Ashley

's

queer

,

unreal

,

shouting

:

"

What

the

hell

!

What

the

hell

!

"

"

That

ca

n't

be

Ashley

!

"

thought

Scarlett

wildly

.

"

He

never

gets

drunk

!

And

Rhett

--

why

,

when

Rhett

's

drunk

he

gets

quieter

and

quieter

--

never

loud

like

that

!

"

Melanie

rose

and

,

with

her

,

Archie

rose

.

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