He thought as he stared at Will in the shadowy hall that he had never known such gallantry as the gallantry of Scarlett O’Hara going forth to conquer the world in her mother’s velvet curtains and the tail feathers of a rooster。
CHAPTER XXXIII
A COLD WIND was blowing stiffly and the scudding clouds overhead were the deep gray of slate when Scarlett and Mammy stepped from the train in Atlanta the next afternoon。 The depot had not been rebuilt since the burning of the city and they alighted amid cinders and mud a few yards above the blackened ruins which marked the site。 Habit strong upon her； Scarlett looked about for Uncle Peter and Pitty’s carriage； for she had always been met by them when returning from Tara to Atlanta during the war years。 Then she caught herself with a sniff at her own absent…mindedness。 Naturally； Peter wasn’t there for she had given Aunt Pitty no warning of her coming and； moreover； she remembered that one of the old lady’s letters had dealt tearfully with the death of the old nag Peter had “ ‘quired” in Macon to bring her back to Atlanta after the surrender。
She looked about the rutted and cut…up space around the depot for the equipage of some old friend or acquaintance who might drive them to Aunt Pitty’s house but she recognized no one； black or white。 Probably none of her old friends owned carriages now； if what Pitty had written them was true。 Times were so hard it was difficult to feed and lodge humans； much less animals。 Most of Pitty’s friends； like herself； were afoot these days。
There were a few wagons loading at the freight cars and several mud…splashed buggies with rough…looking strangers at the reins but only two carriages。 One was a closed carriage； the other open and occupied by a well…dressed woman and a Yankee officer。 Scarlett drew in her breath sharply at the sight of the uniform。 Although Pitty had written that Atlanta was garrisoned and the streets full of soldiers； the first sight of the bluecoat startled and frightened her。 It was hard to remember that the war was over and that this man would not pursue her； rob her and insult her。
The comparative emptiness around the train took her mind back to that morning in 1862 when she had come to Atlanta as a young widow； swathed in crêpe and wild with boredom。 She recalled how crowded this space had been with wagons and carriages and ambulances and how noisy with drivers swearing and yelling and people calling greetings to friends。 She sighed for the light…hearted excitement of the war days and sighed again at the thought of walking all the way to Aunt Pitty’s house。 But she was hopeful that once on Peachtree Street； she might meet someone she knew who would give them a ride。
As she stood looking about her a saddle…colored negro of middle age drove the dosed carriage toward her and； leaning from the box； questioned： “Cah’ige； lady？ Two bits fer any whar in ‘Lanta。”
Mammy threw him an annihilating glance。
“A hired hack！” she rumbled。 “Nigger； does you know who we is？”
Mammy was a country negro but she had not always been a country negro and she knew that no chaste woman ever rode in a hired conveyance—especially a closed carriage—without the escort of some male member of her family。 Even the presence of a negro maid would not satisfy the conventions。 She gave Scarlett a glare as she saw her look longingly at the hack。
“Come ‘way frum dar； Miss Scarlett！ A hired hack an’ a free issue nigger！ Well； dat’s a good combination。”
“Ah ain’ no free issue nigger；” declared the driver with heat。 “Ah b’longs ter Ole Miss Talbot an’ disyere her cah’ige an’ Ah drives it ter mek money fer us。”
“Whut Miss Talbot is dat？”
“Miss Suzannah Talbot of Milledgeville。 Us done move up hyah affer Old Marse wuz kilt。”
“Does you know her； Miss Scarlett？”
“No；” said Scarlett； regretfully。 “I know so few Milledgeville folks。”
“Den us’ll walk；” said Mammy sternly。 “Drive on； nigger。”
She picked up the carpetbag which held Scarlett’s new velvet frock and bonnet and nightgown and tucked the neat bandanna bundle that contained her own belongings under her arm and shepherded Scarlett across the wet expanse of cinders。 Scarlett did not argue the matter； much as she preferred to ride； for she wished no disagreement with Mammy。 Ever since yesterday afternoon when Mammy had caught her with the velvet curtains； there had been an alert suspicious look in her eyes which Scarlett did not like。 It was going to be difficult to escape from her chaperonage and she did not intend to rouse Mammy’s fighting blood before it was absolutely necessary。
As they walked along the narrow sidewalk toward Peachtree； Scarlett was dismayed and sorrowful； for Atlanta looked so devastated and different from what she remembered。 They passed beside what had been the Atlanta Hotel where Rhett and Uncle Henry had lived and of that elegant hostelry there remained only a shell； a part of the blackened walls。 The warehouses which had bordered the train tracks for a quarter of a mile and held tons of military supplies had not been rebuilt and their rectangular foundations looked dreary under the dark sky。 Without the wall of buildings on either side and with the car shed gone； the railroad tracks seemed bare and exposed。 Somewhere amid these ruins； undistinguishable from the others； lay what remained of her own warehouse on the property Charles had left her。 Uncle Henry had paid last year’s taxes on it for her。 She’d have to repay that money some time。 That was something else to worry about。
As they turned the corner into Peachtree Street and she looked toward Five Points； she cried out with shock。 Despite all Frank had told her about the town burning to the ground； she had never really visualized complete destruction。 In her mind the town she loved so well still stood full of close…packed buildings and fine houses。 But this Peachtree Street she was looking upon was so denuded of landmarks it was as unfamiliar as if she had never seen it before。 This muddy street down which she had driven a thousand times during the war； along which she had fled with ducked head and fear…quickened legs when shells burst over her during the siege； this street she had last seen in the heat and hurry and anguish of the day of the retreat； was so strange looking she felt like crying。
Though many new buildings had sprung up in the year since Sherman marched out of the burning town and the Confederates returned； there were still wide vacant lots around Five Points where heaps of smudged broken bricks lay amid a jumble of rubbish； dead weeds and broom…sedge。 There were the remains of a few buildings she remembered； roofless brick walls through which the dull daylight shone； glassless windows gaping； chimneys towering lonesomely。 Here and there her eyes gladly picked out a familiar store which had partly survived shell and fire and had been repaired； the fresh red of new brick glaring bright against the smut of the old walls。 On new store fronts and new office windows she saw the welcome names of men she knew but more often the names were unfamiliar； especially the dozens of shingles of strange doctors and lawyers and cotton merchants。 Once she had known practically everyone in Atlanta and the sight of so many strange names depressed her。 But she was cheered by the sight of new buildings going up all along the street。
There were dozens of them and several were three stories high！ Everywhere building was going on； for as she looked down the street； trying to adjust her mind to the new Atlanta； she heard the blithe sound of hammers and saws； noticed scaffoldings rising and saw men climbing ladders with hods of bricks on their shoulders。 She looked down the street she loved so well and her eyes misted a little。
“They burned you；” she thought； “and they laid you flat。 But they didn’t lick you。 They couldn’t lick you。 You’ll grow back just as big and sassy as you used to be！”
As she walked along Peachtree； followed by the waddling Mammy； she found the sidewalks just as crowded as they were at the height of the war and there was the same air of rush and bustle about the resurrecting town which had made her blood sing when she came here； so long ago； on her first visit to Aunt Pitty。 There seemed to be just as many vehicles wallowing in the mud holes as there had been then； except that there were no Confederate ambulances； and just as many horses and mules tethered to hitching racks in front of the wooden awnings of the stores。 Though the sidewalks were jammed； the faces she saw were as unfamiliar as the signs overhead； new people； many rough…looking men and tawdrily dressed women。 The streets were black with loafing negroes who leaned against walls or sat on the curbing watching vehicles go past with the na？ve curiosity of children at a circus parade。
“Free issue country niggers；” snorted Mammy。 “Ain’ never seed a proper cah’ige in dere lives。 An’ impident lookin’； too。”
They were impudent looking； Scarlett agreed； for they stared at her in an insolent manner； but she forgot them in the renewed shock of seeing blue uniforms。 The town was full of Yankee soldiers； on horses； afoot； in army wagons； loafing on the street； reeling out of barrooms。
I’ll never get used to them； she thought； clenching her fists。 Never！ and over her shoulder： “Hurry； Mammy； let’s get out of this crowd。”
“Soon’s Ah kick dis black trash outer mah way；” answered Mammy loudly； swinging the carpetbag at a black buck who loitered tantalizingly in front of her and making him leap aside。 “Ah doan lak disyere town； Miss Scarlett。 It’s too full of Yankees an’ cheap free issue。”
“It’s nicer where it isn’t so crowded。 When we get across Five Points； it won’t be so bad。”
They picked their way across the slippery stepping stones that bridged the mud of Decatur Street and continued up Peachtree； through a thinning crowd。 When they reached Wesley Chapel where Scarlett had paused to catch her breath that day in 1864 when she had run for Dr。 Meade； she looked at it and laughed aloud； shortly and grimly。 Mammy’s quick old eyes sought hers with suspicion and question but her curiosity went unsatisfied。 Scarlett was recalling wi