• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 4920 0

of his mouth on hers, the exultant surrender of his body to the touch of hers, were not the form of a moment’s pleasure—she knew that no physical hunger could bring a man to this—she knew that it was the statement she had never heard from him, the greatest confession of love a man could make. No matter what he had done to wreck his life, this was still the Francisco d.‘Anconia in whose bed she had been so proud of belonging—no matter what betrayals she had met from the world, her vision of life had been true and some indestructible part of it had remained within him—and in answer to it, her body responded to his, her arms and mouth held him, confessing her desire, confessing an acknowledgment she had always given him and always would.

Then the rest of his years came back to her, with a stab of the pain of knowing that the greater his person, the more terrible his guilt in destroying it. She pulled herself away from him, she shook her head, she said, in answer to both of them, “No.”

He stood looking at her, disarmed and smiling. “Not yet. You have a great deal to forgive me, first. But I can tell you everything now.”

She had never heard that low, breathless quality of helplessness in his voice. He was fighting to regain control, there was almost a touch of apology in his smile, the apology of a child pleading for indulgence, but there was also an adult’s amusement, the laughing declaration that he did not have to hide his struggle, since it was happiness that he was wrestling with, not pain.

She backed away from him; she felt as if emotion had flung her ahead of her own consciousness, and questions were now catching up with her, groping toward the form of words.

“Dagny, that torture you’ve been going through, here, for the last month ... answer me as honestly as you can ... do you think you could have borne it twelve years ago?”

“No,” she answered; he smiled. “Why do you ask that?”

“To redeem twelve years of my life, which I won’t have to regret.”

“What do you mean? And”—her questions had caught up with her—“and what do you know about my torture here?”

“Dagny, aren’t you beginning to see that I would know everything about it?”

“How did you ... Francisco! What were you whistling when you were coming up the hill?”

“Why, was I? I don’t know.”

“It was the Fifth Concerto by Richard Halley, wasn’t it?”

“Oh ... !” He looked startled, then smiled in amusement at himself, then answered gravely, “I’ll tell you that later.”

“How did you find out where I was?”

“I’ll tell you that, too.”

“You forced it out of Eddie.”

“I haven’t seen Eddie for over a year.”

“He was the only one who knew it.”

“It wasn’t Eddie who told me.”

“I didn’t want anybody to find me.”

He glanced slowly about him, she saw his eyes stop on the path she had built, on the planted flowers, on the fresh-shingled roof. He chuckled, as if he understood and as if it hurt him. “You shouldn’t have been left here for a month,” he said. “God, you shouldn’t have! It’s my first failure, at the one time when I didn’t want to fail. But I didn’t think you were ready to quit. Had I known it, I would have watched you day and night.”

“Really? What for?”

“To spare you”—he pointed at her work—“all this.”

“Francisco,” she said, her voice low, “if you’re concerned about my torture, don’t you know that I don’t want to hear you speak of it, because—” She stopped; she had never complained to him, not in all those years; her voice flat, she said only, “—that I don’t want to hear it?”

“Because I’m the one man who has no right to speak of it? Dagny, if you think that I don’t know how much I’ve hurt you, I’ll tell you about the years when I ... But it’s over. Oh, darling, it’s over!”

“Is it?”

“Forgive me, I mustn’t say that. Not until you say it.” He was trying to control his voice, but the look of happiness was beyond his power of control.

“Are you happy because I’ve lost everything I lived for? All right, I’ll say it, if this is what you’ve come to hear: you were the first thing I lost—does it amuse you now to see that I’ve lost the rest?”

He glanced straight at her,