Атлант расправил плечи
The Face without Pain or Fear or Guilt
Shehadneveracceptedhopelessness,butshestoodatthewindowand,addressedtotheshapeofafogboundcity,itwasherself-dedicationtounrequitedlove.
Thedoorbellrang.
Sheturnedwithindifferentastonishmenttoopen,thedoor—butsheknewthatsheshouldhaveexpectedhim,whenshesawthatitwasFranciscod’Anconia.Shefeltnoshockandnorebellion,onlythecheerlessserenityofherassurance—andsheraisedherheadtofacehim,withaslow,deliberatemovement,asiftellinghimthatshehadchosenherstandandthatshestoodintheopen.
Hisfacewasgraveandcalm;thelookofhappinesswasgone,buttheamusementoftheplayboyhadnotreturned.Helookedasifallmasksweredown,helookeddirect,tightlydisciplined,intentuponapurpose,helookedlikeamanabletoknowtheearnestnessofaction,asshehadonceexpectedhimtolook—hehadneverseemedsoattractiveashedidinthismoment—andshenoted,inastonishment,hersuddenfeelingthathewasnotamanwhohaddesertedher,butamanwhomshehaddeserted.
"Dagny,areyouabletotalkaboutitnow?"
"Yes—ifyouwish.Comein."
Heglancedbrieflyatherlivingroom,herhomewhichhehadneverentered,thenhiseyescamebacktoher.Hewaswatchingherattentively.
