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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1387/1581
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"
I
guess
I
am
.
"
He
took
the
first
steps
up
the
slant
of
crumbling
soil
,
his
body
tensed
to
the
task
of
shock
absorber
for
his
fragile
burden
,
to
the
task
of
maintaining
a
steady
progression
where
there
was
no
foothold
to
find
.
The
boy
’
s
head
dropped
on
Rearden
’
s
shoulder
,
hesitantly
,
almost
as
if
this
were
a
presumption
.
Rearden
bent
down
and
pressed
his
lips
to
the
dust
-
streaked
forehead
.
The
boy
jerked
back
,
raising
his
head
with
a
shock
of
incredulous
,
indignant
astonishment
.
"
Do
you
know
what
you
did
?
"
he
whispered
,
as
if
unable
to
believe
that
it
was
meant
for
him
.
"
Put
your
head
down
,
"
said
Rearden
,
"
and
I
’
ll
do
it
again
.
"
The
boy
’
s
head
dropped
and
Rearden
kissed
his
forehead
;
it
was
like
a
father
’
s
recognition
granted
to
a
son
’
s
battle
.
The
boy
lay
still
,
his
face
hidden
,
his
hands
clutching
Rearden
’
s
shoulders
.
Then
,
with
no
hint
of
sound
,
with
only
the
sudden
beat
of
faint
,
spaced
,
rhythmic
shudders
to
show
it
,
Rearden
knew
that
the
boy
was
crying
—
crying
in
surrender
,
in
admission
of
all
the
things
which
he
could
not
put
into
the
words
he
had
never
found
.
Rearden
went
on
moving
slowly
upward
,
step
by
groping
step
,
fighting
for
firmness
of
motion
against
the
weeds
,
the
drifts
of
dust
,
the
chunks
of
scrap
metal
,
the
refuse
of
a
distant
age
.
He
went
on
,
toward
the
line
where
the
red
glow
of
his
mills
marked
the
edge
of
the
pit
above
him
,
his
movement
a
fierce
struggle
that
had
to
take
the
form
of
a
gentle
,
unhurried
flow
.
He
heard
no
sobs
,
but
he
felt
the
rhythmic
shudders
,
and
,
through
the
cloth
of
his
shirt
,
in
place
of
tears
,
he
felt
the
small
,
warm
,
liquid
spurts
flung
from
the
wound
by
the
shudders
.
He
knew
that
the
tight
pressure
of
his
arms
was
the
only
answer
which
the
boy
was
now
able
to
hear
and
understand
—
and
he
held
the
trembling
body
as
if
the
strength
of
his
arms
could
transfuse
some
part
of
his
living
power
into
the
arteries
beating
ever
fainter
against
him
.
