Атлант расправил плечи
The Face without Pain or Fear or Guilt
Ashudderofpityranthroughherbodyandendedinthemovementofshakingherhead:shedidnotknowforwhichofthetwomenthepitywasintended,butitmadeherunabletospeakandsheshookherheadoverandoveragain,asiftryingdesperatelytonegatesomevast,impersonalsufferingthathadmadethemallitsvictims.
"Ifthere’ssomethingthatmustbesaid,sayit."Hisvoicewastoneless.
Thesoundshemadewashalf-chuckle,half-moan—itwasnotadesireforvengeance,butadesperatesenseofjusticethatdrovethecuttingbitternessofhervoice,asshecried,consciouslythrowingthewordsathisface,"Youwantedtoknowthenameofthatotherman?
ThemanIsleptwith?Themanwhohadmefirst?ItwasFranciscod’Anconia!"
Shesawtheforceoftheblowbyseeinghisfacesweptblank.Sheknewthatifjusticewasherpurpose,shehadachievedit—becausethisslapwasworsethantheonehehaddealt.
Shefeltsuddenlycalm,knowingthatherwordshadhadtobesaidforthesakeofallthreeofthem.Thedespairofahelplessvictimlefther,shewasnotavictimanylonger,shewasoneofthecontestants,willingtobeartheresponsibilityofaction.Shestoodfacinghim,waitingforanyanswerhewouldchoosetogiveher,feelingalmostasifitwereherturntobesubjectedtoviolence.
