Атлант расправил плечи
The Sanction of the Victim
Franciscod’Anconia,inshirtsleeves,astrandofhairhangingdownoverhisface,laystretchedonthefloor,onhisstomach,proppedupbyhiselbows,bitingtheendofapencilinconcentrationuponsomepointoftheintricatetracingbeforehim.Hedidnotlookup,heseemedtohaveforgottentheknock.Reardentriedtodistinguishthedrawing:itlookedlikethesectionofasmelter.Hestoodwatchinginstartledwonder;hadhehadthepowertobringintorealityhisownimageofFranciscod’Anconia,thiswasthepicturehewouldhaveseen:thefigureofapurposefulyoungworkerintentuponadifficulttask,Inamoment,Franciscoraisedhishead.Inthenextinstant,heflunghisbodyupwardtoakneelingposture,lookingatReardenwithasmileofincredulouspleasure.Inthenext,heseizedthedrawingsandthrewthemasidetoohastily,facedown.
"WhatdidIinterrupt?"askedRearden.
"Nothingmuch.Comein."Hewasgrinninghappily.ReardenfeltsuddenlycertainthatFranciscohadwaited,too,hadwaitedforthisasforavictorywhichhehadnotquitehopedtoachieve.
"Whatwereyoudoing?"askedRearden.
"Justamusingmyself."
"Letmeseeit."
"No."Heroseandkickedthedrawingsaside.
