飘

　“What　about　the　other　doctors？”
　“Miss　Scarlett；　fo’　Gawd；　Ah　couldn’　sceercely　git　one　of　dem　ter　read　yo’　note。　Dey　wukin’　in　de　horsepittle　lak　dey　all　done　gone　crazy。　One　doctah　he　say　ter　me；　‘Damn　yo’　hide！　Doan　you　come　roun’　hyah　bodderin’　me　‘bout　babies　w’en　we　got　a　mess　of　men　dyin’　hyah。　Git　some　woman　ter　he’p　you。’　An’　den　Ah　went　aroun’　an’　about　an’　ask　fer　news　lak　you　done　tole　me　an’　dey　all　say　‘fightin’　at　Jonesboro’　an’　Ah—”
　“You　say　Dr。　Meade’s　at　the　depot？”
　“Yas’m。　He—”
　“Now；　listen　sharp　to　me。　I’m　going　to　get　Dr。　Meade　and　I　want　you　to　sit　by　Miss　Melanie　and　do　anything　she　says。　And　if　you　so　much　as　breathe　to　her　where　the　fighting　is；　I’ll　sell　you　South　as　sure　as　gun’s　iron。　And　don’t　you　tell　her　that　the　other　doctors　wouldn’t　come　either。　Do　you　hear？”
　“Yas’m。”
　“Wipe　your　eyes　and　get　a　fresh　pitcher　of　water　and　go　on　up。　Sponge　her　off。　Tell　her　I’ve　gone　for　Dr。　Meade。”
　“Is　her　time　nigh；　Miss　Scarlett？”
　“I　don’t　know。　I’m　afraid　it　is　but　I　don’t　know。　You　should　know。　Go　on　up。”
　Scarlett　caught　up　her　wide　straw　bonnet　from　the　console　table　and　jammed　it　on　her　head。　She　looked　in　the　mirror　and　automatically　pushed　up　loose　strands　of　hair　but　she　did　not　see　her　own　reflection。　Cold　little　ripples　of　fear　that　started　in　the　pit　of　her　stomach　were　radiating　outward　until　the　fingers　that　touched　her　cheeks　were　cold；　though　the　rest　of　her　body　streamed　perspiration。　She　hurried　out　of　the　house　and　into　the　heat　of　the　sun。　It　was　blindingly；　glaring　hot　and　as　she　hurried　down　Peachtree　Street　her　temples　began　to　throb　from　the　heat。　From　far　down　the　street　she　could　hear　the　rise　and　fall　and　roar　of　many　voices。　By　the　time　she　caught　sight　of　the　Leyden　house；　she　was　beginning　to　pant；　for　her　stays　were　tightly　laced；　but　she　did　not　slow　her　gait。　The　roar　of　noise　grew　louder。
　From　the　Leyden　house　down　to　Five　Points；　the　street　seethed　with　activity；　the　activity　of　an　anthill　just　destroyed。　Negroes　were　running　up　and　down　the　street；　panic　in　their　faces；　and　on　porches；　white　children　sat　crying　untended。　The　street　was　crowded　with　army　wagons　and　ambulances　filled　with　wounded　and　carriages　piled　high　with　valises　and　pieces　of　furniture。　Men　on　horseback　dashed　out　of　side　streets　pell…mell　down　Peachtree　toward　Hood’s　headquarters。　In　front　of　the　Bonnell　house；　old　Amos　stood　holding　the　head　of　the　carriage　horse　and　he　greeted　Scarlett　with　rolling　eyes。
　“Ain’t　you　gone　yit；　Miss　Scarlett？　We　is　goin’　now。　Ole　Miss　packin’　her　bag。”
　“Going？　Where？”
　“Gawd　knows；　Miss。　Somewheres。　De　Yankees　is　comin’！”
　She　hurried　on；　not　even　saying　good…by。　The　Yankees　were　coming！　At　Wesley　Chapel；　she　paused　to　catch　her　breath　and　wait　for　her　hammering　heart　to　subside。　If　she　did　not　quiet　herself　she　would　certainly　faint　As　she　stood　clutching　a　lamp　post　for　support；　she　saw　an　officer　on　horseback　come　charging　up　the　street　from　Five　Points　and；　on　an　impulse；　she　ran　out　into　the　street　and　waved　at　him。
　“Oh；　stop！　Please；　stop！”
　He　reined　in　so　suddenly　the　horse　went　back　on　its　haunches；　pawing　the　air。　There　were　harsh　lines　of　fatigue　and　urgency　in　his　face　but　his　tattered　gray　hat　was　off　with　a　sweep。
　“Madam？”
　“Tell　me；　is　it　true？　Are　the　Yankees　coming？”
　“I’m　afraid　so。”
　“Do　you　know　so？”
　“Yes；　Ma’m。　I　know　so。　A　dispatch　came　in　to　headquarters　half　an　hour　ago　from　the　fighting　at　Jonesboro。”
　“At　Jonesboro？　Are　you　sure？”
　“I’m　sure。　There’s　no　use　telling　pretty　lies；　Madam。　The　message　was　from　General　Hardee　and　it　said：　‘I　have　lost　the　battle　and　am　in　full　retreat。’　”
　“Oh；　my　God！”
　The　dark　face　of　the　tired　man　looked　down　without　emotion。　He　gathered　the　reins　again　and　put　on　his　hat。
　“Oh；　sir；　please；　just　a　minute。　What　shall　we　do？”
　“Madam；　I　can’t　say。　The　army　is　evacuating　Atlanta　soon。”
　“Going　off　and　leaving　us　to　the　Yankees？”
　“I’m　afraid　so。”
　The　spurred　horse　went　off　as　though　on　springs　and　Scarlett　was　left　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　street　with　the　red　dust　thick　upon　her　ankles。
　The　Yankees　were　coming。　The　army　was　leaving。　The　Yankees　were　coming。　What　should　she　do？　Where　should　she　run？　No；　she　couldn’t　run。　There　was　Melanie　back　there　in　the　bed　expecting　that　baby。　Oh；　why　did　women　have　babies？　If　it　wasn’t　for　Melanie　she　could　take　Wade　and　Prissy　and　hide　in　the　woods　where　the　Yankees　could　never　find　them。　But　she　couldn’t　take　Melanie　to　the　woods。　No；　not　now。　Oh；　if　she’d　only　had　the　baby　sooner；　yesterday　even；　perhaps　they　could　get　an　ambulance　and　take　her　away　and　hide　her　somewhere。　But　now—she　must　find　Dr。　Meade　and　make　him　come　home　with　her。　Perhaps　he　could　hurry　the　baby。
　She　gathered　up　her　skirts　and　ran　down　the　street；　and　the　rhythm　of　her　feet　was　“The　Yankees　are　coming！　The　Yankees　are　coming！”　Five　Points　was　crowded　with　people　who　rushed　here　and　there　with　unseeing　eyes；　jammed　with　wagons；　ambulances；　ox　carts；　carriages　loaded　with　wounded。　A　roaring　sound　like　the　breaking　of　surf　rose　from　the　crowd。
　Then　a　strangely　incongruous　sight　struck　her　eyes。　Throngs　of　women　were　coming　up　from　the　direction　of　the　railroad　tracks　carrying　hams　across　their　shoulders。　Little　children　hurried　by　their　sides；　staggering　under　buckets　of　steaming　molasses。　Young　boys　dragged　sacks　of　corn　and　potatoes。　One　old　man　struggled　along　with　a　small　barrel　of　flour　on　a　wheelbarrow。　Men；　women　and　children；　black　and　white；　hurried；　hurried　with　straining　faces；　lugging　packages　and　sacks　and　boxes　of　food—more　food　than　she　had　seen　in　a　year。　The　crowd　suddenly　gave　a　lane　for　a　careening　carriage　and　through　the　lane　came　the　frail　and　elegant　Mrs。　Elsing；　standing　up　in　the　front　of　her　victoria；　reins　in　one　hand；　whip　in　the　other。　She　was　hatless　and　white　faced　and　her　long　gray　hair　streamed　down　her　back　as　she　lashed　the　horse　like　a　Fury。　Jouncing　on　the　back　seat　of　the　carriage　was　her　black　mammy；　Melissy；　clutching　a　greasy　side　of　bacon　to　her　with　one　hand；　while　with　the　other　and　both　feet　she　attempted　to　hold　the　boxes　and　bags　piled　all　about　her。　One　bag　of　dried　peas　had　burst　and　the　peas　strewed　themselves　into　the　street　Scarlett　screamed　to　her；　but　the　tumult　of　the　crowd　drowned　her　voice　and　the　carriage　rocked　madly　by。
　For　a　moment　she　could　not　understand　what　it　all　meant　and　then；　remembering　that　the　commissary　warehouses　were　down　by　the　railroad　tracks；　she　realized　that　the　army　had　thrown　them　open　to　the　people　to　salvage　what　they　could　before　the　Yankees　came。
　She　pushed　her　way　swiftly　through　the　crowds；　past　the　packed；　hysterical　mob　surging　in　the　open　space　of　Five　Points；　and　hurried　as　fast　as　she　could　down　the　short　block　toward　the　depot。　Through　the　tangle　of　ambulances　and　the　clouds　of　dust；　she　could　see　doctors　and　stretcher　bearers　bending；　lifting；　hurrying。　Thank　God；　she’d　find　Dr。　Meade　soon。　As　she　rounded　the　corner　of　the　Atlanta　Hotel　and　came　in　full　view　of　the　depot　and　the　tracks；　she　halted　appalled。
　Lying　in　the　pitiless　sun；　shoulder　to　shoulder；　head　to　feet；　were　hundreds　of　wounded　men；　lining　the　tracks；　the　sidewalks；　stretched　out　in　endless　rows　under　the　car　shed。　Some　lay　stiff　and　still　but　many　writhed　under　the　hot　sun；　moaning。　Everywhere；　swarms　of　flies　hovered　over　the　men；　crawling　and　buzzing　in　their　faces；　everywhere　was　blood；　dirty　bandages；　groans；　screamed　curses　of　pain　as　stretcher　bearers　lifted　men。　The　smell　of　sweat；　of　blood；　of　unwashed　bodies；　of　excrement　rose　up　in　waves　of　blistering　heat　until　the　fetid　stench　almost　nauseated　her。　The　ambulance　men　hurrying　here　and　there　among　the　prostrate　forms　frequently　stepped　on　wounded　men；　so　thickly　packed　were　the　rows；　and　those　trodden　upon　stared　stolidly　up；　waiting　their　turn。
　She　shrank　back；　clapping　her　hand　to　her　mouth　feeling　that　she　was　going　to　vomit。　She　couldn’t　go　on。　She　had　seen　wounded　men　in　the　hospitals；　wounded　men　on　Aunt　Pitty’s　lawn　after　the　fighting　at　the　creek；　but　never　anything　like　this。　Never　anything　like　these　stinking；　bleeding　bodies　broiling　under　the　glaring　sun。　This　was　an　inferno　of　pain　and　smell　and　noise　and　hurry—hurry—hurry！　The　Yankees　are　coming！　The　Yankees　are　coming！　She　braced　her　shoulders　and　went　down　among　them；　straining　her　eyes　among　the　upright　figures　to　distinguish　Dr。　Meade。　But　she　discovered　she　could　not　look　for　him；　for　if　she　did　not　step　carefully　she　would　tread　on　some　poor　soldier。　She　raised　her　skirts　and　tried　to　pick　her　way　among　them　toward　a　knot　of　men　who　were　directing　the　stretcher　bearers。
　As　she　walked；　feverish　hands　plucked　at　her　skirt　and　voices　croaked：　“Lady—water！　Please；　lady；　water！　For　Christ’s　sake；　water！”
　Perspiration　came　down　her　face　in　streams　as　she　pulled　her　skirts　from　clutching　hands。　If　she　stepped　on　one　of　these　men；　she’d　scream　and　faint。　She　stepped　over　dead　men；　over　men　who　lay　dull　eyed　with　hands　clutched　to　bellies　where　dried　blood　had　glued　torn　uniforms　to　wounds；　over　men　whose　beards　were　s