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Dagny
and
Eddie
spent
their
winters
trying
to
master
some
new
skill
,
in
order
to
astonish
Francisco
and
beat
him
,
for
once
.
They
never
succeeded
.
When
they
showed
him
how
to
hit
a
ball
with
a
bat
,
a
game
he
had
never
played
before
,
he
watched
them
for
a
few
minutes
,
then
said
,
"
I
think
I
get
the
idea
.
Let
me
try
.
"
He
took
the
bat
and
sent
the
ball
flying
over
a
line
of
oak
trees
far
at
the
end
of
the
field
.
When
Jim
was
given
a
motorboat
for
his
birthday
,
they
all
stood
on
the
river
landing
,
watching
the
lesson
,
while
an
instructor
showed
Jim
how
to
run
it
.
None
of
them
had
ever
driven
a
motorboat
before
.
The
sparkling
white
craft
,
shaped
like
a
bullet
,
kept
staggering
clumsily
across
the
water
,
its
wake
a
long
record
of
shivering
,
its
motor
choking
with
hiccoughs
,
while
the
instructor
,
seated
beside
him
,
kept
seizing
the
wheel
out
of
Jim
’
s
hands
.
For
no
apparent
reason
,
Jim
raised
his
head
suddenly
and
yelled
at
Francisco
,
"
Do
you
think
you
can
do
it
any
better
?
"
"
I
can
do
it
.
"
"
Try
it
!
"
When
the
boat
came
back
and
its
two
occupants
stepped
out
,
Francisco
slipped
behind
the
wheel
.
"
Wait
a
moment
,
"
he
said
to
the
instructor
,
who
remained
on
the
landing
.
"
Let
me
take
a
look
at
this
.
"
Then
,
before
the
instructor
had
time
to
move
,
the
boat
shot
out
to
the
middle
of
the
river
,
as
if
fired
from
a
gun
.
It
was
streaking
away
before
they
grasped
what
they
were
seeing
.
As
it
went
shrinking
into
the
distance
and
sunlight
,
Dagny
’
s
picture
of
it
was
three
straight
lines
:
its
wake
,
the
long
shriek
of
its
motor
,
and
the
aim
of
the
driver
at
its
wheel
.
She
noticed
the
strange
expression
of
her
father
’
s
face
as
he
looked
at
the
vanishing
speedboat
.
He
said
nothing
;
he
just
stood
looking
.
She
remembered
that
she
had
seen
him
look
that
way
once
before
.
It
was
when
he
inspected
a
complex
system
of
pulleys
which
Francisco
,
aged
twelve
,
had
erected
to
make
an
elevator
to
the
top
of
a
rock
;
he
was
teaching
Dagny
and
Eddie
to
dive
from
the
rock
into
the
Hudson
.
Francisco
’
s
notes
of
calculation
were
still
scattered
about
on
the
ground
;
her
father
picked
them
up
,
looked
at
them
,
then
asked
,
"
Francisco
,
how
many
years
of
algebra
have
you
had
?
"
"
Two
years
.
"
"
Who
taught
you
to
do
this
?
"
"
Oh
,
that
’
s
just
something
I
figured
out
.
"
She
did
not
know
that
what
her
father
held
on
the
crumpled
sheets
of
paper
was
the
crude
version
of
a
differential
equation
.
The
heirs
of
Sebastián
d
‘
Anconia
had
been
an
unbroken
line
of
first
sons
,
who
knew
how
to
bear
his
name
.
It
was
a
tradition
of
the
family
that
the
man
to
disgrace
them
would
be
the
heir
who
died
,
leaving
the
d
’
Anconia
fortune
no
greater
than
he
had
received
it
.
Throughout
the
generations
,
that
disgrace
had
not
come
.
An
Argentinian
legend
said
that
the
hand
of
a
d
‘
Anconia
had
the
miraculous
power
of
the
saints
—
only
it
was
not
the
power
to
heal
,
but
the
power
to
produce
.
The
d
‘
Anconia
heirs
had
been
men
of
unusual
ability
,
but
none
of
them
could
match
what
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
promised
to
become
.
It
was
as
if
the
centuries
had
sifted
the
family
’
s
qualities
through
a
fine
mesh
,
had
discarded
the
irrelevant
,
the
inconsequential
,
the
weak
,
and
had
let
nothing
through
except
pure
talent
;
as
if
chance
,
for
once
,
had
achieved
an
entity
devoid
of
the
accidental
.
Francisco
could
do
anything
he
undertook
,
he
could
do
it
better
than
anyone
else
,
and
he
did
it
without
effort
.
There
was
no
boasting
in
his
manner
and
consciousness
,
no
thought
of
comparison
.
His
attitude
was
not
:
"
I
can
do
it
better
than
you
,
"
but
simply
:
"
I
can
do
it
.
"
What
he
meant
by
doing
was
doing
superlatively
.
No
matter
what
discipline
was
required
of
him
by
his
father
’
s
exacting
plan
for
his
education
,
no
matter
what
subject
he
was
ordered
to
study
,
Francisco
mastered
it
with
effortless
amusement
.
His
father
adored
him
,
but
concealed
it
carefully
,
as
he
concealed
the
pride
of
knowing
that
he
was
bringing
up
the
most
brilliant
phenomenon
of
a
brilliant
family
line
.
Francisco
,
it
was
said
,
was
to
be
the
climax
of
the
d
‘
Anconias
.
