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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 1379/1581
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.
.
.
It
was
true
,
he
thought
.
They
had
not
been
blind
to
reality
,
he
had
—
blind
to
the
reality
he
himself
had
created
.
No
,
they
had
not
perished
,
but
who
had
?
Who
had
perished
to
pay
for
their
manner
of
survival
?
Ellis
Wyatt
.
.
.
Ken
Danagger
.
.
.
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
.
He
was
reaching
for
his
hat
and
coat
,
when
he
noticed
that
the
men
in
the
room
were
trying
to
stop
him
,
that
their
faces
had
a
look
of
panic
and
their
voices
were
crying
in
bewilderment
:
"
What
’
s
the
matter
,
Mr
.
Rearden
?
.
.
.
Why
?
.
.
.
But
why
?
.
.
.
What
have
we
said
?
.
.
.
You
’
re
not
going
!
.
.
.
You
can
’
t
go
!
.
.
.
It
’
s
too
early
!
.
.
.
Not
yet
!
Oh
,
not
yet
!
"
He
felt
as
if
he
were
seeing
them
from
the
rear
window
of
a
speeding
express
,
as
if
they
stood
on
the
track
behind
him
,
waving
their
arms
in
futile
gestures
and
screaming
indistinguishable
sounds
,
their
figures
growing
smaller
in
the
distance
,
their
voices
fading
.
One
of
them
tried
to
stop
him
as
he
turned
to
the
door
.
He
pushed
him
out
of
his
way
,
not
roughly
,
but
with
a
simple
,
smooth
sweep
of
his
arm
,
as
one
brushes
aside
an
obstructing
curtain
,
then
walked
out
.
Silence
was
his
only
sensation
,
as
he
sat
at
the
wheel
of
his
car
,
speeding
back
down
the
road
to
Philadelphia
.
It
was
the
silence
of
immobility
within
him
,
as
if
,
possessing
knowledge
,
he
could
now
afford
to
rest
,
with
no
further
activity
of
soul
.
He
felt
nothing
,
neither
anguish
nor
elation
.
It
was
as
if
,
by
an
effort
of
years
,
he
had
climbed
a
mountain
to
gain
a
distant
view
and
,
having
reached
the
top
,
had
fallen
to
lie
still
,
to
rest
before
he
looked
,
free
to
spare
himself
for
the
first
time
.
He
was
aware
of
the
long
,
empty
road
streaming
,
then
curving
,
then
streaming
straight
before
him
,
of
the
effortless
pressure
of
his
hands
on
the
wheel
and
the
screech
of
the
tires
on
the
curves
.
But
he
felt
as
if
he
were
speeding
down
a
skyway
suspended
and
coiling
in
empty
space
.
The
passers
-
by
at
the
factories
,
the
bridges
,
the
power
plants
along
his
road
saw
a
sight
that
had
once
been
natural
among
them
:
a
trim
,
expensively
powerful
car
driven
by
a
confident
man
,
with
the
concept
of
success
proclaimed
more
loudly
than
by
any
electric
sign
,
proclaimed
by
the
driver
’
s
garments
,
by
his
expert
steering
,
by
his
purposeful
speed
.
They
watched
him
go
past
and
vanish
into
the
haze
equating
earth
with
night
.
