Атлант расправил плечи
The Sanction of the Victim
WhenFranciscoraisedhishead,Reardensawafacedrawnbysogreatasufferingthatitslineswerealmostanaudiblecryofpain,themoreterriblebecausethefacehadalookoffirmness,asifthedecisionhadbeenmadeandthiswasthepriceofit.
"Francisco...what’sthematter?"
"Hank,I..."Heshookhishead,stopped,thenstoodupstraight.
"Mr.Rearden,"hesaid,inavoicethathadthestrength,thedespairandthepeculiardignityofapleaheknewtobehopeless,"forthetimewhenyou’regoingtodamnme,whenyou’regoingtodoubteverywordIsaid...Isweartoyou—bythewomanIlove—thatIamyourfriend."
ThememoryofFrancisco’sfaceasitlookedinthatmoment,camebacktoReardenthreedayslater,throughablindingshockoflossandhatred—itcameback,eventhough,standingbytheradioinhisoffice,hethoughtthathemustnowkeepawayfromtheWayne-FalklandorhewouldkillFranciscod’Anconiaonsight—itkeptcomingbacktohim,throughthewordshewashearing—hewashearingthatthreeshipsofd’Anconiacopper,boundfromSanJuantoNewYork,hadbeenattackedbyRagnarDanneskjoldandsenttothebottomoftheocean—itkeptcomingback,eventhoughheknewthatmuchmorethanthecopperhadgonedownforhimwiththoseships.
