"Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rand Ayn)

In the same instant, she realized where she was and wondered for the first
time where that music came from.
A few steps away, at the end of the car, a brakeman was adjusting the
controls of the air-conditioner. He was blond and young. He was whistling the
Ryn Rand - ATLAS SHRUGGED
CHAPTER ITHE THEME 10
theme of the symphony. She realized that he had been whistling it for some
time and that this was all she had heard.
She watched him incredulously for a while, before she raised her voice to
ask, "Tell me please, what are you whistling?"
The boy turned to her. She met a direct glance and saw an open, eager smile,
as if he were sharing a confidence with a friend. She liked his faceits
lines were tight and firm, it did not have that look of loose muscles evading
the responsibility of a shape, which she had learned to expect in peopleтАЩs
faces.
"ItтАЩs the Halley Concerto," he answered, smiling.
"Which one?"
"The Fifth."
She let a moment pass, before she said slowly and very carefully, "Richard
Halley wrote only four concertos."
The boyтАЩs smile vanished. It was as if he were jolted back to reality, just
as she had been a few moments ago. It was as if a shutter were slammed down,
and what remained was a face without expression, impersonal, indifferent and
empty.
"Yes, of course," he said. "IтАЩm wrong. I made a mistake."
"Then what was it?"
"Something I heard somewhere."
"What?"
"I donтАЩt know."
"Where did you hear it?"
"I donтАЩt remember."
She paused helplessly; he was turning away from her without further interest.
"It sounded like a Halley theme," she said. "But I know every note heтАЩs ever
written and he never wrote that."
There was still no expression, only a faint look of attentiveness on the
boyтАЩs face, as he turned back to her and asked, "You like the music of
Richard Halley?"
"Yes," she said, "I like it very much."
He considered her for a moment, as if hesitating, then he turned away. She
watched the expert efficiency of his movements as he went on working. He
worked in silence.
She had not slept for two nights, but she could not permit herself to sleep;
she had too many problems to consider and not much time: the train was due in
New York early in the morning. She needed the time, yet she wished the train
would go faster; but it was the Taggart Comet, the fastest train in the
Ryn Rand - ATLAS SHRUGGED
CHAPTER ITHE THEME 11
country.
She tried to think; but the music remained on the edge of her mind and she
kept hearing it, in full chords, like the implacable steps of something that