Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Buttheywerenotbarsanylonger,theywerethecracksofawallwhichtheJohnGaltLinehadbroken,theadvancenoticeofwhatawaitedthemoutside,beyondtheVenetianblinds—shethoughtofthetripback,onthenewrail,withthefirsttrainfromWyattJunction—thetripbacktoherofficeintheTaggartBuildingandtoallthethingsnowopenforhertowin—butshewasfreetoletitwait,shedidnotwanttothinkofit,shewasthinkingofthefirsttouchofhismouthonhers—shewasfreetofeelit,toholdamomentwhennothingelsewasofanyconcern—shesmileddefiantlyatthestripsofskybeyondtheblinds.
"Iwantyoutoknowthis."
Hestoodbythebed,dressed,lookingdownather.Hisvoicehadpronounceditevenly,withgreatclarityandnoinflection.Shelookedupathimobediently.Hesaid:"WhatIfeelforyouiscontempt.Butit’snothing,comparedtothecontemptIfeelformyself.Idon’tloveyou.I’veneverlovedanyone.
IwantedyoufromthefirstmomentIsawyou.Iwantedyouasonewantsawhore—forthesamereasonandpurpose.Ispenttwoyearsdamningmyself,becauseIthoughtyouwereaboveadesireofthiskind.
You’renot.You’reasvileananimalasIam.Ishouldloathemydiscoveringit.Idon’t.Yesterday,Iwouldhavekilledanyonewho’dtellmethatyouwerecapableofdoingwhatI’vehadyoudo.Today,Iwouldgivemylifenottoletitbeotherwise,nottohaveyoubeanythingbutthebitchyouare.
