Атлант расправил плечи

           "

           Hesaidit,hisvoiceaslowashers,withthesamesoundofbeingforcedpastone’sbreath,andshemissedaninstantoftime,asinthestillnessafterablow,becauseshefeltthatthis—notthemomentswhenhehadcarriedherinhisarmsdownthemountainside,butthismeetingoftheirvoices—hadbeentheclosestphysicalcontactbetweenthem.

           Afullmoonstoodintheskyabovethevalley,whentheydrovebacktohishouse;itstoodlikeaflat,roundlanternwithoutrays,withahazeoflighthanginginspace,notreachingtheground,andtheilluminationseemedtocomefromtheabnormalwhitebrightnessofthesoil.Intheunnaturalstillnessofsightwithoutcolor,theearthseemedveiledbyafilmofdistance,itsshapesdidnotmergeintoalandscape,butwentslowlyflowingpast,liketheprintofaphotographonacloud.

           Shenoticedsuddenlythatshewassmiling.Shewaslookingdownatthehousesofthevalley.Theirlightedwindowsweredimmedbyabluishcast,theoutlinesoftheirwallsweredissolving,longbandsofmistwerecoilingamongthemintorpid,unhurriedwaves.Itlookedlikeacitysinkingunderwater.

           "Whatdotheycallthisplace?"sheasked.

           "IcallitMulligan’sValley,"hesaid."TheotherscallitGalt’sGulch."

           "I’dcallit—"butshedidnotfinish.

           Heglancedather.Sheknewwhathesawinherface.Heturnedaway.