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- Стр. 867/1581
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I
believed
that
love
is
some
static
gift
which
,
once
granted
,
need
no
longer
be
deserved
—
just
as
they
believe
that
wealth
is
a
static
possession
which
can
be
seized
and
held
without
further
effort
.
I
believed
that
love
is
a
gratuity
,
not
a
reward
to
be
earned
—
just
as
they
believe
it
is
their
right
to
demand
an
unearned
wealth
.
And
just
as
they
believe
that
their
need
is
a
claim
on
my
energy
,
so
I
believed
that
her
unhappiness
was
a
claim
on
my
life
.
For
the
sake
of
pity
,
not
justice
,
I
endured
ten
years
of
self
-
torture
.
I
placed
pity
above
my
own
conscience
,
and
this
is
the
core
of
my
guilt
.
My
crime
was
committed
when
I
said
to
her
,
"
By
every
standard
of
mine
,
to
maintain
our
marriage
will
be
a
vicious
fraud
.
But
my
standards
are
not
yours
.
I
do
not
understand
yours
,
I
never
have
,
but
I
will
accept
them
.
"
Here
they
are
,
lying
on
my
desk
,
those
standards
I
accepted
without
understanding
,
here
is
the
manner
of
her
love
for
me
,
that
love
which
I
never
believed
,
but
tried
to
spare
.
Here
is
the
final
product
of
the
unearned
.
I
thought
that
it
was
proper
to
commit
injustice
,
so
long
as
I
would
be
the
only
one
to
suffer
.
But
nothing
can
justify
injustice
.
And
this
is
the
punishment
for
accepting
as
proper
that
hideous
evil
which
is
self
-
immolation
.
I
thought
that
I
would
be
the
only
victim
.
Instead
,
I
’
ve
sacrificed
the
noblest
woman
to
the
vilest
.
When
one
acts
on
pity
against
justice
,
it
is
the
good
whom
one
punishes
for
the
sake
of
the
evil
;
when
one
saves
the
guilty
from
suffering
,
it
is
the
innocent
whom
one
forces
to
suffer
.
There
is
no
escape
from
justice
,
nothing
can
be
unearned
and
unpaid
for
in
the
universe
,
neither
in
matter
nor
in
spirit
—
and
if
the
guilty
do
not
pay
,
then
the
innocent
have
to
pay
it
.
It
was
not
the
cheap
little
looters
of
wealth
who
have
beaten
me
—
it
was
I
.
They
did
not
disarm
me
—
I
threw
away
my
weapon
.
This
is
a
battle
that
cannot
be
fought
except
with
clean
hands
—
because
the
enemy
’
s
sole
power
is
in
the
sores
of
one
’
s
conscience
—
and
I
accepted
a
code
that
made
me
regard
the
strength
of
my
hands
as
a
sin
and
a
stain
.
"
Do
we
get
the
Metal
,
Mr
.
Rearden
?
"
He
looked
from
the
Gift
Certificate
on
his
desk
to
the
memory
of
the
girl
on
the
flatcar
.
He
asked
himself
whether
he
could
deliver
the
radiant
being
he
had
seen
in
that
moment
,
to
the
looters
of
the
mind
and
the
thugs
of
the
press
.
