Атлант расправил плечи
The Face without Pain or Fear or Guilt
"Whatareyouafter?Areyouhopingtoincludeheramongyourkindofconquestsor—"
"No!"Itwasaninvoluntarycryanditsoundedfutile,withitspassionatesincerityoffered—toberejected—asitsonlyproof.
"No?Thenareyouhereonamatterofbusiness?Areyousettingatrap,asyoudidforme?Whatsortofdouble-crossareyoupreparingforher?"
"Mypurpose...wasnot...amatterofbusiness."
"Thenwhatwasit?"
"Ifyoustillcaretobelieveme,Icantellyouonlythatitinvolvedno...betrayalofanykind."
"Doyouthinkthatyoumaystilldiscussbetrayal,inmypresence?"
"Iwillansweryousomeday.Icannotansweryounow."
"Youdon’tliketoberemindedofit,doyou?You’vestayedawayfrommesince,haven’tyou?Youdidn’texpecttoseemehere?Youdidn’twanttofaceme?"ButheknewthatFranciscowasfacinghimasnooneelsedidthesedays—hesawtheeyesheldstraighttomeethis,thefeaturescomposed,withoutemotion,withoutdefenseorappeal,settoendurewhateverwascoming—hesawtheopen,unprotectedlookofcourage—thiswasthefaceofthemanhehadloved,themanwhohadsethimfreeofguilt—andhefoundhimselffightingagainsttheknowledgethatthisfacestillheldhim,aboveallelse,abovehismonthofimpatienceforthesightofDagny.
