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Chapter 19

           Quiet,drowsyafternoonsiestashadceasedtobe,forthoughtheclamorofbattlemightlullfromtimetotime,PeachtreeStreetwasaliveandnoisyatallhours,cannonandambulancesrumblingby,woundedstumblinginfromtheriflepits,regimentshurryingpastatdouble-quick,orderedfromtheditchesononesideoftowntothedefenseofsomehard-pressedearthworksontheother,andcouriersdashingheadlongdownthestreettowardheadquartersasthoughthefateoftheConfederacyhungonthem.

           Thehotnightsbroughtameasureofquietbutitwasasinisterquiet.Whenthenightwasstill,itwastoostillasthoughthetreefrogs,katydidsandsleepymockingbirdsweretoofrightenedtoraisetheirvoicesintheusualsummer-nightchorus.Nowandagain,thequietwasbrokensharplybythecrack-crackingofmusketfireinthelastlineofdefenses.

           Ofteninthelatenighthours,whenthelampswereoutandMelanieasleepanddeathlysilencepressedoverthetown,Scarlett,lyingawake,heardthelatchofthefrontgateclickandsofturgenttappingsonthefrontdoor.

           Always,facelesssoldiersstoodonthedarkporchandfromthedarknessmanydifferentvoicesspoketoher.Sometimesaculturedvoicecamefromtheshadows:"Madam,myabjectapologiesfordisturbingyou,butcouldIhavewaterformyselfandmyhorse?"Sometimesitwasthehardburringofamountainvoice,sometimestheoddnasalsoftheflatWiregrasscountrytothefarsouth,occasionallythelullingdrawloftheCoastthatcaughtatherheart,remindingherofEllen’svoice.

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