Атлант расправил плечи

           Theremnantofviolence,theemotionrisingasathintremblingwithinher,wasnotforthemanshewasgoingtosee;itwasacryofprotestagainstasacrilege—againstthedestructionofwhathadbeengreatness.

           Inabreakbetweenbuildings,shesawthetowersoftheWayne-Falkland.Shefeltaslightjolt,inherlungsandlegs,thatstoppedherforaninstant.Thenshewalkedonevenly.

           Bythetimeshewalkedthroughthemarblelobby,totheelevator,thendownthewide,velvet-carpeted,soundlesscorridorsoftheWayne-Falkland,shefeltnothingbutacoldangerthatgrewcolderwitheverystep.

           Shewascertainoftheangerwhensheknockedathisdoor.Sheheardhisvoice,answering,"Comein."Shejerkedthedooropenandentered.

           FranciscoDomingoCarlosAndresSebastiánd‘Anconiasatonthefloor,playingmarbles.

           NobodyeverwonderedwhetherFranciscod‘Anconiawasgood-lookingornot;itseemedirrelevant;whenheenteredaroom,itwasimpossibletolookatanyoneelse.Histall,slenderfigurehadanairofdistinction,tooauthentictobemodern,andhemovedasifhehadacapefloatingbehindhiminthewind.Peopleexplainedhimbysayingthathehadthevitalityofahealthyanimal,buttheyknewdimlythatthatwasnotcorrect.Hehadthevitalityofahealthyhumanbeing,athingsorarethatnoonecouldidentifyit.Hehadthepowerofcertainty.

           NobodydescribedhisappearanceasLatin,yetthewordappliedtohim,notinitspresent,butinitsoriginalsense,notpertainingtoSpain,buttoancientRome.