Атлант расправил плечи

           Thecapacityforuncloudedenjoyment,shethought,doesnotbelongtoirresponsiblefools;aninviolatepeaceofspiritisnottheachievementofadrifter;tobeabletolaughlikethatistheendresultofthemostprofound,mostsolemnthinking.

           Almostdispassionately,lookingathisfigurestretchedonthecarpetatherfeet,sheobservedwhatmemoryitbroughtbacktoher:theblackpajamasstressedthelonglinesofhisbody,theopencollarshowedasmooth,young,sunburnedskin—andshethoughtofthefigureinblackslacksandshirtstretchedbesideheronthegrassatsunrise.Shehadfeltpridethen,theprideofknowingthatsheownedhisbody;shestillfeltit.Sherememberedsuddenly,specifically,theexcessiveactsoftheirintimacy;thememoryshouldhavebeenoffensivetohernow,butwasn’t.Itwasstillpride,withoutregretorhope,anemotionthathadnopowertoreachherandthatshehadnopowertodestroy.

           Unaccountably,byanassociationoffeelingthatastonishedher,sherememberedwhathadconveyedtoherrecentlythesamesenseofconsummatejoyashis.

           "Francisco,"sheheardherselfsayingsoftly,"webothlovedthemusicofRichardHalley...."

           "Istillloveit."

           "Haveyouevermethim?"

           "Yes.Why?"

           "DoyouhappentoknowwhetherhehaswrittenaFifthConcerto?"

           Heremainedperfectlystill.Shehadthoughthimimpervioustoshock;hewasn’t.Butshecouldnotattempttoguesswhyofallthethingsshehadsaid,thisshouldbethefirsttoreachhim.