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Beatty
chuckled
.
"
And
you
said
,
quoting
,
'
Truth
will
come
to
light
,
murder
will
not
be
hid
long
!
'
And
I
cried
in
good
humour
,
'
Oh
God
,
he
speaks
only
of
his
horse
!
'
And
'
The
Devil
can
cite
Scripture
for
his
purpose
.
'
And
you
yelled
,
'
This
age
thinks
better
of
a
gilded
fool
,
than
of
a
threadbare
saint
in
wisdom
's
school
!
'
And
I
whispered
gently
,
'
The
dignity
of
truth
is
lost
with
much
protesting
.
'
And
you
screamed
,
'
Carcasses
bleed
at
the
sight
of
the
murderer
!
'
And
I
said
,
patting
your
hand
,
'
What
,
do
I
give
you
trench
mouth
?
'
And
you
shrieked
,
'
Knowledge
is
power
!
'
and
'
A
dwarf
on
a
giant
's
shoulders
of
the
furthest
of
the
two
!
'
and
I
summed
my
side
up
with
rare
serenity
in
,
'
The
folly
of
mistaking
a
metaphor
for
a
proof
,
a
torrent
of
verbiage
for
a
spring
of
capital
truths
,
and
oneself
as
an
oracle
,
is
inborn
in
us
,
Mr.
Valery
once
said
.
'
"
Montag
's
head
whirled
sickeningly
.
He
felt
beaten
unmercifully
on
brow
,
eyes
,
nose
,
lips
,
chin
,
on
shoulders
,
on
upflailing
arms
.
He
wanted
to
yell
,
"
No
!
shut
up
,
you
're
confusing
things
,
stop
it
!
"
Beatty
's
graceful
fingers
thrust
out
to
seize
his
wrist
.
"
God
,
what
a
pulse
!
I
've
got
you
going
,
have
I
,
Montag
.
Jesus
God
,
your
pulse
sounds
like
the
day
after
the
war
.
Everything
but
sirens
and
bells
!
Shall
I
talk
some
more
?
I
like
your
look
of
panic
.
Swahili
,
Indian
,
English
Lit
.
,
I
speak
them
all
.
A
kind
of
excellent
dumb
discourse
,
Willie
!
"
"
Montag
,
hold
on
!
"
The
moth
brushed
Montag
's
ear
.
"
He
's
muddying
the
waters
!
"
"
Oh
,
you
were
scared
silly
,
"
said
Beatty
,
"
for
I
was
doing
a
terrible
thing
in
using
the
very
books
you
clung
to
,
to
rebut
you
on
every
hand
,
on
every
point
!
What
traitors
books
can
be
!
You
think
they
're
backing
you
up
,
and
they
turn
on
you
.
Others
can
use
them
,
too
,
and
there
you
are
,
lost
in
the
middle
of
the
moor
,
in
a
great
welter
of
nouns
and
verbs
and
adjectives
.
And
at
the
very
end
of
my
dream
,
along
I
came
with
the
Salamander
and
said
,
Going
my
way
?
And
you
got
in
and
we
drove
back
to
the
firehouse
in
beatific
silence
,
all
dwindled
away
to
peace
.
"
Beatty
let
Montag
's
wrist
go
,
let
the
hand
slump
limply
on
the
table
.
"
All
's
well
that
is
well
in
the
end
.
"
Silence
.
Montag
sat
like
a
carved
white
stone
.
The
echo
of
the
final
hammer
on
his
skull
died
slowly
away
into
the
black
cavern
where
Faber
waited
for
the
echoes
to
subside
.
And
then
when
the
startled
dust
had
settled
down
about
Montag
's
mind
,
Faber
began
,
softly
,
"
All
right
,
he
's
had
his
say
.
You
must
take
it
in
.
I
'll
say
my
say
,
too
,
in
the
next
few
hours
.
And
you
'll
take
it
in
.
And
you
'll
try
to
judge
them
and
make
your
decision
as
to
which
way
to
jump
,
or
fall
.
But
I
want
it
to
be
your
decision
,
not
mine
,
and
not
the
Captain
's
.
But
remember
that
the
Captain
belongs
to
the
most
dangerous
enemy
of
truth
and
freedom
,
the
solid
unmoving
cattle
of
the
majority
.
Oh
,
God
,
the
terrible
tyranny
of
the
majority
.
We
all
have
our
harps
to
play
.
And
it
's
up
to
you
now
to
know
with
which
ear
you
'll
listen
.
"
Montag
opened
his
mouth
to
answer
Faber
and
was
saved
this
error
in
the
presence
of
others
when
the
station
bell
rang
.
The
alarm-voice
in
the
ceiling
chanted
.
There
was
a
tacking-tacking
sound
as
the
alarm-report
telephone
typed
out
the
address
across
the
room
.
Captain
Beatty
,
his
poker
cards
in
one
pink
hand
,
walked
with
exaggerated
slowness
to
the
phone
and
ripped
out
the
address
when
the
report
was
finished
.
He
glanced
perfunctorily
at
it
,
and
shoved
it
in
his
pocket
.
He
came
back
and
sat
down
.
The
others
looked
at
him
.
"
It
can
wait
exactly
forty
seconds
while
I
take
all
the
money
away
from
you
,
"
said
Beatty
,
happily
.
Montag
put
his
cards
down
.
