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"
Is
this
the
woman
you
love
?
"
Francisco
answered
,
looking
at
her
,
"
Yes
.
"
Rearden
’
s
hand
rose
,
swept
down
and
slapped
Francisco
’
s
face
.
The
scream
came
from
Dagny
.
When
she
could
see
again
—
after
an
instant
that
felt
as
if
the
blow
had
struck
her
own
cheek
—
Francisco
’
s
hands
were
the
first
thing
she
saw
.
The
heir
of
the
d
’
Anconias
stood
thrown
back
against
a
table
,
clasping
the
edge
behind
him
,
not
to
support
himself
,
but
to
stop
his
own
hands
.
She
saw
the
rigid
stillness
of
his
body
,
a
body
that
was
pulled
too
straight
but
seemed
broken
,
with
the
slight
,
unnatural
angles
of
his
waistline
and
shoulders
,
with
his
arms
held
stiff
but
slanted
back
—
he
stood
as
if
the
effort
not
to
move
were
turning
the
force
of
his
violence
against
himself
,
as
if
the
motion
he
resisted
were
running
through
his
muscles
as
a
tearing
pain
.
She
saw
his
convulsed
fingers
struggling
to
grow
fast
to
the
table
’
s
edge
,
she
wondered
which
would
break
first
,
the
wood
of
the
table
or
the
bones
of
the
man
,
and
she
knew
that
Rearden
’
s
life
hung
in
the
balance
.
When
her
eyes
moved
up
to
Francisco
’
s
face
,
she
saw
no
sign
of
struggle
,
only
the
skin
of
his
temples
pulled
tight
and
the
planes
of
his
cheeks
drawn
inward
,
seeming
faintly
more
hollow
than
usual
.
It
made
his
face
look
naked
,
pure
and
young
.
She
felt
terror
because
she
was
seeing
in
his
eyes
the
tears
which
were
not
there
.
His
eyes
were
brilliant
and
dry
.
He
was
looking
at
Rearden
,
but
it
was
not
Rearden
that
he
was
seeing
.
He
looked
as
if
he
were
facing
another
presence
in
the
room
and
as
if
his
glance
were
saying
:
If
this
is
what
you
demand
of
me
,
then
even
this
is
yours
,
yours
to
accept
and
mine
to
endure
,
there
is
no
more
than
this
in
me
to
offer
you
,
but
let
me
be
proud
to
know
that
I
can
offer
so
much
.
She
saw
—
with
a
single
artery
beating
under
the
skin
of
his
throat
,
with
a
froth
of
pink
in
the
corner
of
his
mouth
—
the
look
of
an
enraptured
dedication
which
was
almost
a
smile
,
and
she
knew
that
she
was
witnessing
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
’
s
greatest
achievement
.
When
she
felt
herself
shaking
and
heard
her
own
voice
,
it
seemed
to
meet
the
last
echo
of
her
scream
in
the
air
of
the
room
—
and
she
realized
how
brief
a
moment
had
passed
between
.
Her
voice
had
the
savage
sound
of
rising
to
deliver
a
blow
and
it
was
crying
to
Rearden
:
"
—
to
protect
me
from
him
?
Long
before
you
ever
—
"
"
Don
’
t
!
"
Francisco
’
s
head
jerked
to
her
,
the
brief
snap
of
his
voice
held
all
of
his
unreleased
violence
,
and
she
knew
it
was
an
order
that
had
to
be
obeyed
.
Motionless
but
for
the
slow
curve
of
his
head
,
Francisco
turned
to
Rearden
.
She
saw
his
hands
leave
the
edge
of
the
table
and
hang
relaxed
by
his
sides
.
It
was
Rearden
that
he
was
now
seeing
,
and
there
was
nothing
in
Francisco
’
s
face
except
the
exhaustion
of
effort
,
but
Rearden
knew
suddenly
how
much
this
man
had
loved
him
.
