Атлант расправил плечи
The Moratorium on Brains
Thefirstwasnevertoletherlearnthereasonofhissurrendertothelooters;thesecondwastosaytoherthewordswhichheshouldhaveknownattheirfirstmeetingandshouldhavesaidonthegalleryofEllisWyatt’shouse.
Therewasnothingbutthestrongsummerstarlighttoguidehim,ashewalked,buthecoulddistinguishthehighwayandtheremnantofastonefenceahead,atthecornerofacountrycrossroad.Thefencehadnothingtoprotectanylonger,onlyaspreadofweeds,awillowtreebendingovertheroadand,fartherinthedistance,theruinofafarmhousewiththestarlightshowingthroughitsroof.
Hewalked,thinkingthateventhissightstillretainedthepowertobeofvalue:itgavehimthepromiseofalongstretchofspaceundisturbedbyhumanintrusion.
Themanwhosteppedsuddenlyoutintotheroadmusthavecomefrombehindthewillowtree,butsoswiftlythatitseemedasifhehadsprungupfromthemiddleofthehighway.Rearden’shandwenttotheguninhispocket,butstopped:heknew—bytheproudpostureofthebodystandingintheopen,bythestraightlineoftheshouldersagainstthestarlitsky—thatthemanwasnotabandit.Whenheheardthevoice,heknewthatthemanwasnotabeggar.
"Ishouldliketospeaktoyou,Mr.Rearden."
Thevoicehadthefirmness,theclarityandthespecialcourtesypeculiartomenwhoareaccustomedtogivingorders.
