Атлант расправил плечи
The Non-commercial
Hetoldhimselfthathehadtoattendtheparty—thathisfamilyhadtherighttodemanditofhim—thathehadtolearntoliketheirkindofpleasure,fortheirsake,nothisown.
Hewonderedwhythiswasamotivethathadnopowertoimpelhim.Throughouthislife,wheneverhebecameconvincedthatacourseofactionwasright,thedesiretofollowithadcomeautomatically.Whatwashappeningtohim?—hewondered.Theimpossibleconflictoffeelingreluctancetodothatwhichwasright—wasn’titthebasicformulaofmoralcorruption?Torecognizeone’sguilt,yetfeelnothingbutthecoldest,mostprofoundindifference—wasn’titabetrayalofthatwhichhadbeenthemotorofhislife-courseandofhispride?
Hegavehimselfnotimetoseekananswer.Hefinisheddressing,quickly,pitilessly.
Holdinghimselferect,histallfiguremovingwiththeunstressed,unhurriedconfidenceofhabitualauthority,thewhiteofafinehandkerchiefinthebreastpocketofhisblackdinnerjacket,hewalkedslowlydownthestairstothedrawingroom,looking—tothesatisfactionofthedowagerswhowatchedhim—liketheperfectfigureofagreatindustrialist.
HesawLillianatthefootofthestairs.Thepatricianlinesofalemon-yellowEmpireeveninggownstressedhergracefulbody,andshestoodlikeapersonproudlyincontrolofherproperbackground.Hesmiled;helikedtoseeherhappy;itgavesomereasonablejustificationtotheparty.
Heapproachedher—andstopped.Shehadalwaysshowngoodtasteinheruseofjewelry,neverwearingtoomuchofit.
