Part 1, Chapter 6, Section 1

Rearden is struggling to force his mind into blankness in anticipation of his wife’s party (p 127 s 161). “He felt the leaden approach of that exhaustion which he never felt at his job, the exhaustion that seemed to wait for him and catch him the moment he turned to other concerns. He felt as if he were incapable of any desire except a desperate longing for sleep.” (p 130 s 161)

“He tried to reach for the shirt studs. He saw his hand reaching, instead, for the pile of mail … picked as urgent, it had to be read tonight, but he had had no time to read it in the office.” (p 129, s 161) Rearden encounters a newspaper clipping entitled Equalization of Opportunity,

Rearden makes it downstairs as his wife welcomes guests (p 131 s 161). Seeing Lillian happy makes Rearden smile — “it gave some reasonable justification to the party.” Yet he notices that her usually quiet use of jewelry has been eschewed for an ostentatious overuse of diamonds, except for a Rearden Metal bracelet on her conspicuously bare arms — “he wanted to tear the bracelet off her wrist.”

Dr. Pritchett, head of the Department of Philosophy at Patrick Henry University for the past three years (p 132 s 161), engages Lillian’s guests,

Dr. Pritchett supports the Equalization of Opportunity Bill,

As does Balph Eubank, who furthermore supports applying it to literature such that any book is limited to ten thousand copies,

Betty Pope adds her own view “aggressively, in the tone of an expert on economics” (p 135 s 161).

Bertram Scudder contends that the Equalization of Opportunity Bill is essential when the only thing between destitute masses and goods is a deed — “Property rights are a superstition. One holds property only by the courtesy of those who do not seize it. The people can seize it at any moment. If they can, why shouldn’t they?” (p 135 s 161) Bertram Scudder assumes that Philip Rearden opposes the Equalization of Opportunity Bill, as it would “trim a little off the hors d’oeuvres bill around here.”

Claude Slagenhop, the president of Friends of Global Progress, adds his own perspective that “Society is suffering for lack of business opportunities at the moment, so we’ve got the right to seize such opportunities as exist. Right is whatever’s good for society.” (p 135-136 s 161).

Hank Rearden looks at the “flowers, at the sparks of light on the crystal glasses, at the naked arms and shoulders of women” then looks at the “cold wind outside, sweeping empty stretches of land” (p 136 s 161). Rearden smiles until he sees Dagny Taggart enter, who is greeted by Lillian and requests to see Hank.

Dagny and Hank exchange greetings, and after finding herself unaware of Hank’s wedding anniversary, she declares that she only attended the party “as a rest. A celebration of my own — in your honor and mine. … In honor of the first sixty miles of Rearden Metal track.” (p 137-138 s 161). Hank is extremely formal — “she was unable to adjust to it” — and responds “I appreciate it” in the tone proper for “I’ve never heard of it.” A mutually known businessman approaches, “his face an open comment on the change in her appearance … she wished she had seen this look on Rearden’s face, instead” (p 138 s 161). Hank is gone when Dagny looks away from the businessman.

While Rearden moved “among the guests, trying not to be trapped into conversation” a “newspaperman of the seedier sort” pointed Bertram Scudder out to Rearden (p 138 s 161). Rearden immediately locates Lillian and pulls her aside (p 139 s 161). “Is that Scudder of The Future?” “You don’t want to be narrow-minded, do you? You must learn to tolerate the opinions of others and respect their right of free speech.” Rearden is mutely transfixed by mental images of a bucket of slime (“The Octopus”) and Lillian’s profile (the proud purity which he had sought in marrying her). When Rearden notices Lillian again, “he thought that what he saw in her eyes was enjoyment. But in the next instant he reminded himself that he was sane and that this was not possible.” Rearden orders Lillian with “unemotional precision” to never invite Scudder back again — she stays silent, “her smooth cheeks seemed faintly drawn inward, as if deflated” (p 140 s 161).

Francisco d’Anconia entered, causing Rearden to reflect on his own hatred of “the squandered who did not know how to deserve the gift of inherited wealth. There, he thought, was the most contemptible representative of the species.” (p 140 s 161) Francisco passed Dagny without stopping — “she hoped to avoid him for the rest of the evening” — and went on to mingle with Dr. Pritchett and Balph Eubank (p 141 s 161). Dr. Pritchett had just finished enlightening the crowd that “nothing is anything.” When the crowd noted that Francisco is familiar with the philosopher, Francisco exposited that he studied under Dr. Pritchett’s predecessor at Patrick Henry University, Hugh Akston. The crowd was shocked, particularly a woman who remarked that Akston is “one of those great names of . . . of the last century.” “Perhaps in spirit … Not in fact.” “Isn’t it odd? … When a philosopher retires, people do not even notice it.” “They do, eventually.” “Just what did Hugh Akston teach?” (p 142 s 161) “He taught that everything is something.”

James Taggart greeted Francisco and slowly walked away from the crowd — Francisco “followed obediently, but stopped within hearing distance of the others” (p 142 s 161). James remarks he is anxious to speak to Francisco. “You haven’t always been.” James says he has had difficulty reaching Francisco. “Are you trying to hide from me the fact that I refused to see you?” James’ voice rises when he states he wanted to speak about the San Sebastián Mines, “Now, look, Francisco, this is serious. It’s a disaster, an unprecedented disaster. … I don’t understand it at all. I have a right to know.” “A right? Aren’t you being old-fashioned, James?” James wants to know what Francisco is going to do.

James hurries away after declaring “this is outrageous!” — “It’s perfectly outrageous to treat your public responsibilities with such thoughtless levity!” (p 143 s 161)

Franciso approaches Rearden who has “escaped once more to the recess” of a window facing the mines (p 145 s 161) causing the two to meet for the first time (p 140 s 161). Rearden is “brusque and dry” and Francisco openly asks if Rearden wants him to leave; “it was a sudden, startling relief” that a man had named “an issue instead of evading it” (p 145 s 161). Rearden grows contemptuous when Francisco admits to having come to the party only to meet him; “What did you want to meet me for? In order to make me lose money? … What is it this time? A gold mine?” Francisco states that he has no desire to sell Rearden anything, and that “I did not attempt to sell the copper mine to James Taggart, either”; Rearden chuckles because “if you understand that much, we have at least a sensible basis for conversation.”

Rearden is still skeptical and believes Francisco wants to sell him something, yet Francisco declares he just wants “to become acquainted with you.” (p 146 s 161) Rearden believes that at least Francisco wishes to “gain my confidence.” Francisco responds, “If one’s actions are honest, one does not need the predated confidence of others, only their rational perception. The person who craves a moral blank check of that kind, has dishonest intentions, whether he admits it to himself or not.” Rearden is startled, emitting a glance like the “involuntary thrust of a hand grasping for support in desperate need” although his face had a hard “inner severity directed at himself; it looked austere and lonely.”

Francisco looks out at the darkness, the “fury of the wind” and the “scraps of clouds ripped by the tortured battle of the storm in the sky” (p 146 s 161). He remarks, “It’s a terrible night for any animal caught unprotected on that plain … This is when one should appreciate the meaning of being a man.” Rearden notes “as if in answer to himself, a tone of wonder in his voice” that “Funny … You told me what I was just thinking a while ago … only I didn’t have the words for it.” Francisco continues,

It is not Rearden’s thoughts that Francisco had named, but “his most hidden, most personal emotion” — and Francisco states he said such things “by way of gratitude, Mr. Rearden” (p 147 s 161). Rearden states he does not need gratitude, but that “of all those whom you are saving from the storm tonight, I am the only one who will offer it.” Rearden asks what Francisco is doing, and he states he is “calling your attention to the nature of those for whom you are working.” Rearden feels contempt, but is relieved that he now feels “certain once more” of “his judgment on the character his adversary.” Rearden declares, “You wouldn’t understand it if I told you that hte man who works, works for himself, even if he does have to carry the whole wretched bunch of you along. … A bunch of miserable children who struggle to remain alive, desperately and very badly, while I — I don’t even notice the burden.”

Francisco tells Rearden he should declare to the burdensome people that he is working for “your own sake, not theirs” because “it’s a battle in which one must make one’s stand clear” (p 148 s 161). Rearden states he does not fight the disarmed, but Francisco explains “they have a weapon against you” and that Rearden should ask himself what it is. Rearden asks where there is evidence of Francisco’s claims, causing Francisco to declare, “In the unforgivable fact that you’re as unhappy as you are.” Rearden feels a “stab of coldly rebellious anger” because “the only human reaction which he would not accept was pity.”

Dagny notices Rearden and Francisco talking and is drawn in; “it seemed crucially important that she know what these two men said to each other” (p 149 s 161). Rearden is proclaiming, “I can forgive all those others, they’re not vicious, they’re merely helpless. But you — you’re the kind who can’t be forgiven.” “It is against he sin of forgiveness that I wanted to warn you.” Dagny “had never thought it possible that she would see Francisco take a beating” — “yet he stood, offering no defense. She knew that it was not indifference; she knew his face well enough to see the effort his calm cost him.” Rearden tosses a few more insults at Francisco before Francisco bows and turns to go. Rearden asks what Francisco could have wanted to learn about him, and Francisco declares “I have learned it” before heading back into the crowd.

Dagny approaches Rearden and asks why there are so many “intellectuals of the looter persuasion here? I wouldn’t have them in my house.” (p 149 s 161) Rearden formally declares he does not care. Dagny explains that “parties are intended to be celebrations, and celebrations should be only for those who have something to celebrate” (p 150 s 161). Rearden states he “never thought of it.” Dagny is left in disbelief, as “they had always been at ease together” but not “the rigid formality of his manner” makes Rearden seem “like a man in a straight jacket.” Dagny makes a few more remarks about the debasement of parties — “Why have we left it to fools? It should have been ours.” — before walking away. She is unaware that Rearden keeps his sight on her as she approaches the fireplace (p 151 s 161).

Dagny listens to an elderly spinster relate her fear of the dark — “I get the feeling that this time it is final, that daylight will not return” — then mention hearing detonations “somewhere in the fog over the Atlantic … It was Ragnar Danneskjöld. It was the Coast Guard trying to catch him.” (p 151 s 161) This elicits a gasp form the crowd, followed by missives about the rewards offered by People’s State of Norway, PSo Portugal and PSo Turkey for his head — and that last night he seized from a ship the relief supplies meant for the PSo France (p 151-152 s 161).

Dagny notices Francisco d’Anconia near her, watching with stressed curiosity. The group turns begins to philosophize, “Nobody can help what he does, that is the way things made him. There is nothing we can do about anything. We must learn to bear it. … What’s the use anyway? What is man’s fate? Hasn’t it always been to hope, but never to achieve? The wise man is the one who does not attempt to hope.” Dagny brusquely leaves the group upon the mention of “who is John Galt?” is followed by a woman who states “in the soft, mysterious tone of sharing a secret” that she knows who is John Galt (p 153 s 161). Dagny tensely asks who he is, but is merely told a story of how John Galt was “a millionaire, a man of inestimable wealth” who found Atlantis, a place where “hero-spirits lived in a happiness unknown to the rest of the earth.” Dagny offends the woman by offering only “how interesting” as her response, and drives the woman to belligerence upon asking what happened to the the Galt fortune she never heard of (p 154 s 161). The woman remarks “You don’t have to believe it” — Francisco interrupts, offering insolently exaggerated earnestness when he interjects, “Miss Taggart doesn’t … I do.” The woman brusquely departs.

Francisco remarks the story is true but that he doesn’t expect Dagny to believe it (p 154 s 161). Dagny stands defiantly still because the way he looks at her demands “an angry escape.” She keeps the “unfeminine pose of an executive” but this proud strength is betrayed by “the fragility of the body under the black dress” and altogether “the pose made her most truly a woman.” Francisco remarks “Dagny, what a magnificent waste!” and she quickly escapes to avoid letting him see her blush. “She knew suddenly that the sentence named what she had felt all evening” (p 155 s 161).

As Dagny runs away from Francisco she is stopped in her tracks by the opening chords of Halley’s Fourth Concerto coming through a radio (p 155 s 161). But then “the notes broke. It was as if a handful of mud and pebbles had been flung at the music, and what followed was the sound of the rolling and the dripping. It was Halley’s Concerto swung into a popular tune. It was Halley’s melody torn apart, its holes stuffed with hiccoughs. The great statement of joy had become the giggling of a barroom.” Mort Liddy boasts to his friends that this is his score for Heaven’s in Your Backyard.

Dagny shakes with the “approach of an anger she could not control” and thinks: “Say nothing. Walk steadily. Get out.” (p 155 s 161) As she leaves she hears Lillian repeating something she had said throughout the evening, although it is the first time Dagny has heard it. Allowing her Rearden Metal bracelet to be inspected by guests, Lillian declares, “Of course it’s hideous. But don’t you see? It’s supposed to be priceless. … Why? My dear, it’s the first thing ever made of Rearden Metal.” Lillian continues, “Of course, I’d exchange it for a common diamond bracelet any time, but somehow nobody will offer me one for it.” Dagny loses her awareness of everything else in the room, seeing only the bracelet of blue-green metal and feeling only something being torn off her wrist. Extending her own diamond bracelet, Dagny states to Lillian, “If you are not the coward that I think you are, you will exchange it” (p 156 s 161). Lillian looks “straight at her. … Lillian knew that she was serious.” Dagny orders Lillian to “give me that bracelet” and lifts her own glittering diamond band higher.

Lillian exchanges her own bracelet, taking Dagny’s diamond bracelet while Dagny feels “nothing else” except her “fingers closed about the metal” (p 156 s 161). Dagny inexplicably feels a “touch of feminine vanity, the kind she had never experienced before: the desire to be seen wearing this particular ornament.” Indignant voices are in the distance — “the most offensive gesture I’ve ever seen”; “it was vicious”; “this is horrible!”; “Serves her right, if she feels like throwing a few thousand dollars away” — and Rearden has a face that looks as if “something within him were mangled, like the music.” Dagny no longer feels urgently to leave. Rearden is for the rest of the evening by his wife’s side and a “devoted, attentive, admiring husband.” When Dagny apologizes to him and states “I had to do it”, he wants to slap her face but remains expressionless and states, “It was not necessary” (p 157 s 161).