-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 141/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
I
don
’
t
know
what
sort
of
motto
the
d
‘
Anconias
have
on
their
family
crest
,
"
Mrs
.
Taggart
said
once
,
"
but
I
’
m
sure
that
Francisco
will
change
it
to
’
What
for
?
‘
"
It
was
the
first
question
he
asked
about
any
activity
proposed
to
him
—
and
nothing
would
make
him
act
,
if
he
found
no
valid
answer
.
He
flew
through
the
days
of
his
summer
month
like
a
rocket
,
but
if
one
stopped
him
in
mid
-
flight
,
he
could
always
name
the
purpose
of
his
every
random
moment
.
Two
things
were
impossible
to
him
:
to
stand
still
or
to
move
aimlessly
.
"
Let
’
s
find
out
"
was
the
motive
he
gave
to
Dagny
and
Eddie
for
anything
he
undertook
,
or
"
Let
’
s
make
it
.
"
These
were
his
only
forms
of
enjoyment
.
"
I
can
do
it
,
"
he
said
,
when
he
was
building
his
elevator
,
clinging
to
the
side
of
a
cliff
,
driving
metal
wedges
into
rock
,
his
arms
moving
with
an
expert
’
s
rhythm
,
drops
of
blood
slipping
,
unnoticed
,
from
under
a
bandage
on
his
wrist
.
"
No
,
we
can
’
t
take
turns
,
Eddie
,
you
’
re
not
big
enough
yet
to
handle
a
hammer
.
Just
cart
the
weeds
off
and
keep
the
way
clear
for
me
,
I
’
ll
do
the
rest
.
.
.
.
What
blood
?
Oh
,
that
’
s
nothing
,
just
a
cut
I
got
yesterday
.
Dagny
,
run
to
the
house
and
bring
me
a
clean
bandage
.
"
Jim
watched
them
.
They
left
him
alone
,
but
they
often
saw
him
standing
in
the
distance
,
watching
Francisco
with
a
peculiar
kind
of
intensity
.
He
seldom
spoke
in
Francisco
’
s
presence
.
But
he
would
corner
Dagny
and
he
would
smile
derisively
,
saying
,
"
All
those
airs
you
put
on
,
pretending
that
you
’
re
an
iron
woman
with
a
mind
of
her
own
!
You
’
re
a
spineless
dishrag
,
that
’
s
all
you
are
.
It
’
s
disgusting
,
the
way
you
let
that
conceited
punk
order
you
about
.
He
can
twist
you
around
his
little
finger
.
You
haven
’
t
any
pride
at
all
.
The
way
you
run
when
he
whistles
and
wait
on
him
!
Why
don
’
t
you
shine
his
shoes
?
"
"
Because
he
hasn
’
t
told
me
to
,
"
she
answered
.
Francisco
could
win
any
game
in
any
local
contest
.
He
never
entered
contests
.
He
could
have
ruled
the
junior
country
club
.
He
never
came
within
sight
of
their
clubhouse
,
ignoring
their
eager
attempts
to
enroll
the
most
famous
heir
in
the
world
.
Dagny
and
Eddie
were
his
only
friends
.
They
could
not
tell
whether
they
owned
him
or
were
owned
by
him
completely
;
it
made
no
difference
:
either
concept
made
them
happy
.
The
three
of
them
set
out
every
morning
on
adventures
of
their
own
kind
.
Once
,
an
elderly
professor
of
literature
,
Mrs
.
Taggart
’
s
friend
,
saw
them
on
top
of
a
pile
in
a
junk
yard
,
dismantling
the
carcass
of
an
automobile
.
He
stopped
,
shook
his
head
and
said
to
Francisco
,
"
A
young
man
of
your
position
ought
to
spend
his
time
in
libraries
,
absorbing
the
culture
of
the
world
.
"
"
What
do
you
think
I
’
m
doing
?
"
asked
Francisco
.
There
were
no
factories
in
the
neighborhood
,
but
Francisco
taught
Dagny
and
Eddie
to
steal
rides
on
Taggart
trains
to
distant
towns
,
where
they
climbed
fences
into
mill
yards
or
hung
on
window
sills
,
watching
machinery
as
other
children
watched
movies
.
"
When
I
run
Taggart
Transcontinental
.
.
.
"
Dagny
would
say
at
times
.
"
When
I
run
d
‘
Anconia
Copper
.
.
.
"
said
Francisco
.
They
never
had
to
explain
the
rest
to
each
other
;
they
knew
each
other
’
s
goal
and
motive
.
Railroad
conductors
caught
them
,
once
in
a
while
.
Then
a
stationmaster
a
hundred
miles
away
would
telephone
Mrs
.
Taggart
:
"
We
’
ve
got
three
young
tramps
here
who
say
that
they
are
—
"
"
Yes
,
"
Mrs
.
Taggart
would
sigh
,
"
they
are
.
Please
send
them
back
.
"
