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- Стр. 1392/1581
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"
He
’
s
waiting
somewhere
outside
.
It
’
s
he
who
brought
you
here
,
and
he
asked
permission
to
speak
to
you
,
when
possible
.
"
"
Send
him
in
.
Then
go
back
out
there
,
take
charge
,
finish
the
job
.
"
"
Is
there
anything
else
I
can
do
for
you
,
Mr
.
Rearden
?
"
"
No
,
nothing
else
.
"
He
lay
still
,
alone
in
the
silence
of
his
office
.
He
knew
that
the
meaning
of
his
mills
had
ceased
to
exist
,
and
the
fullness
of
the
knowledge
left
no
room
for
the
pain
of
regretting
an
illusion
.
He
had
seen
,
in
a
final
image
,
the
soul
and
essence
of
his
enemies
:
the
mindless
face
of
the
thug
with
the
club
.
It
was
not
the
face
itself
that
made
him
draw
back
in
horror
,
but
the
professors
,
the
philosophers
,
the
moralists
,
the
mystics
who
had
released
that
face
upon
the
world
.
He
felt
a
peculiar
cleanliness
.
It
was
made
of
pride
and
of
love
for
this
earth
,
this
earth
which
was
his
,
not
theirs
.
It
was
the
feeling
which
had
moved
him
through
his
life
,
the
feeling
which
some
among
men
know
in
their
youth
,
then
betray
,
but
which
he
had
never
betrayed
and
had
carried
within
him
as
a
battered
,
attacked
,
unidentified
,
but
living
motor
—
the
feeling
which
he
could
now
experience
in
its
full
,
uncontested
purity
:
the
sense
of
his
own
superlative
value
and
the
superlative
value
of
his
life
.
It
was
the
final
certainty
that
his
life
was
his
,
to
be
lived
with
no
bondage
to
evil
,
and
that
that
bondage
had
never
been
necessary
.
It
was
the
radiant
serenity
of
knowing
that
he
was
free
of
fear
,
of
pain
,
of
guilt
.
If
it
’
s
true
,
he
thought
,
that
there
are
avengers
who
are
working
for
the
deliverance
of
men
like
me
,
let
them
see
me
now
,
let
them
tell
me
their
secret
,
let
them
claim
me
,
let
them
—
"
Come
in
!
"
he
said
aloud
,
in
answer
to
the
knock
on
his
door
.
The
door
opened
and
he
lay
still
.
The
man
standing
on
the
threshold
,
with
disheveled
hair
,
a
soot
-
streaked
face
and
furnace
-
smudged
arms
,
dressed
in
scorched
overalls
and
bloodstained
shirt
,
standing
as
if
he
wore
a
cape
waving
behind
him
in
the
wind
,
was
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
.
