Атлант расправил плечи

           Thelightclothofhisshirtseemedtostress,ratherthanhide,thestructureofhisfigure,hisskinwassuntanned,hisbodyhadthehardness,thegaunt,tensilestrength,thecleanprecisionofafoundrycasting,helookedasifhewerepouredoutofmetal,butsomedimmed,soft-lusteredmetal,likeanaluminum-copperalloy,thecolorofhisskinblendingwiththechestnut-brownofhishair,theloosestrandsofthehairshadingfrombrowntogoldinthesun,andhiseyescompletingthecolors,astheonepartofthecastingleftundimmedandharshlylustrous:hiseyeswerethedeep,darkgreenoflightglintingonmetal.

           Hewaslookingdownatherwiththefainttraceofasmile,itwasnotalookofdiscovery,butoffamiliarcontemplation—asifhe,too,wereseeingthelong-expectedandthenever-doubted.

           Thiswasherworld,shethought,thiswasthewaymenweremeanttobeandtofacetheirexistence—andalltherestofit,alltheyearsofuglinessandstrugglewereonlysomeone’ssenselessjoke.Shesmiledathim,asatafellowconspirator,inrelief,indeliverance,inradiantmockeryofallthethingsshewouldneverhavetoconsiderimportantagain.Hesmiledinanswer,itwasthesamesmileasherown,asifhefeltwhatshefeltandknewwhatshemeant.

           "Weneverhadtotakeanyofitseriously,didwe?"shewhispered.

           "No,weneverhadto."

           Andthen,herconsciousnessreturningfully,sherealizedthatthismanwasatotalstranger.