Atlas Shrugged [261]
It was the muscles of his own face that made Rearden realize the nature of his reaction to Francisco's arrival: he noticed suddenly that he was smiling and that his face had been relaxed into the dim well being of a smile for some minutes past, as he watched Francisco d'Anconia in the crowd.
He acknowledged to himself, for the first time, all the half-grasped, half-rejected moments when he had thought of Francisco d'Anconia and thrust the thought aside before it became the knowledge of how much he wanted to see him again. In moments of sudden exhaustion-
at his desk, with the fires of the furnaces going down in the twilight-
in the darkness of the lonely walk through the empty countryside to his house-in the silence of sleepless nights-he had found himself thinking of the only man who had once seemed to be his spokesman.
He had pushed the memory aside, telling himself: But that one is worse than all the others!-while feeling certain that this was not true, yet being unable to name the reason of his certainty. He had caught himself glancing through the newspapers to see whether Francisco d'Anconia had returned to New York-and he had thrown the newspapers aside, asking himself angrily: What if he did return?-would you go chasing him through night clubs and cocktail parties?-what is it that you want from him?
This was what he had wanted-he thought, when he caught himself smiling at the sight of Francisco in the crowd-this strange feeling of expectation that held curiosity, amusement and hope.
Francisco did not seem to have noticed him. Rearden waited, fighting a desire to approach; not after the kind of conversation we had, he thought-what for?-what would I say to him? And then, with the same smiling, light-hearted feeling, the feeling of being certain that it was right, he found himself walking across the ballroom, toward the group that surrounded Francisco d'Anconia.
He wondered, looking at them, why these people were drawn to Francisco, why they chose to hold him imprisoned in a clinging circle.
when their resentment of him was obvious under their smiles. Their faces had the hint of a look peculiar, not to fear, but to cowardice: a look of guilty anger. Francisco stood cornered against the side edge of a marble stairway, half-leaning, half-sitting on the steps; the informality of his posture, combined with the strict formality of his clothes, gave him an air of superlative elegance. His was the only face that had the carefree look and the brilliant smile proper to the enjoyment of a party; but his eyes seemed intentionally expressionless, holding no trace of gaiety, showing-like a warning signal-nothing but the activity of a heightened perceptiveness.
Standing unnoticed on the edge of the group, Rearden heard a woman, who had large diamond earrings and a flabby, nervous face, ask tensely, "Senior d'Anconia, what do you think is going to happen to the world?"
"Just exactly what it deserves,"
"Oh, how cruel!"
"Don't you believe in the operation of the moral law, madame?"
Francisco asked gravely. "I do."
Rearden heard Bertram Scudder, outside the group, say to a girl who made some sound of indignation, "Don't let him disturb you. You know, money is the root of all evil-and he's the typical product of money."
Rearden did not think that Francisco could have heard it, but he saw Francisco turning to them with a gravely courteous smile.
"So you think that money is the root of all evil?" said Francisco d'Anconia. "Have you ever asked what is the root of money? Money is a tool of exchange, which can't exist unless there are goods produced and men able to produce them. Money is the material shape of the principle that men who wish to deal with one another must deal by trade and give value for value. Money is not the tool of the moochers, who claim your product by tears, or of the looters, who take it from you by force. Money is made possible only by the men who produce.
Is this what you consider evil?
"When you accept money in payment for your effort, you do so only on the conviction that you will exchange it for