Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
Sheleanedforwardjustashemovedtoreachforanothersheet,andshefoundherselfleaningagainsthisshoulder.Involuntarily,sheheldstillforoneinstant,nolongerthanforasmallbreakintheflowofasinglemotion,whilehereyesrosetohis.Hewaslookingdownather,neitherhidingwhathefeltnorimplyinganyfurtherdemand.Shedrewback,knowingthatshehadfeltthesamedesireashis.
Then,stillholdingtherecapturedsensationofwhatshehadfeltforhiminthepast,shegraspedaqualitythathadalwaysbeenpartofit,nowsuddenlycleartoherforthefirsttime:ifthatdesirewasacelebrationofone’slife,thenwhatshehadfeltforFranciscohadalwaysbeenacelebrationofherfuture,likeamomentofsplendorgainedinpartpaymentofanunknown,total,affirmingsomepromisetocome.Intheinstantwhenshegraspedit,sheknewalsotheonlydesireshehadeverexperiencednotintokenofthefuturebutofthefullandfinalpresent.Sheknewitbymeansofanimage—theimageofaman’sfigurestandingatthedoorofasmallgranitestructure.Thefinalformofthepromisethathadkepthermoving,shethought,wasthemanwhowould,perhaps,remainapromisenevertobereached.
Butthis—shethoughtinconsternation—wasthatviewofhumandestinywhichshehadmostpassionatelyhatedandrejected:theviewthatmanwasevertobedrawnbysomevisionoftheunattainableshiningahead,doomedevertoaspire,butnottoachieve.
