I’m listening to the audio version of Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. So far, it’s a fascinating book and I have an intuition it only gets better. One thing I like about the characters in Ayn Rand’s novels is how they are constructed in epic proportions. Some of them are pure models of confidence, dedication and rational living.
Here is one piece of dialog in the book I wanted to share. It’s a part of the first discussion between Hank Rearden and Francisco d’Anconia. And I think it’s a great example of how two very confident people talk (especially follow Francisco d’Anconia).
He stood there for a while, leaning on a sense of privacy as if it were a physical support.
“Mr. Rearden,” said a strangely quiet voice beside him, “permit me to introduce myself. My name is d’Anconia.”
Rearden turned, startled; d’Anconia’s manner and voice had a quality he had seldom encountered before: a tone of authentic respect.
“How do you do,” he answered. His voice was brusque and dry; but he had answered.
“I have observed that Mrs. Rearden has been trying to avoid the necessity of presenting me to you, and I can guess the reason. Would you prefer that I leave your house?”
The action of naming an issue instead of evading it, was so unlike the usual behavior of all the men he knew, it was such a sudden, startling relief, that Rearden remained silent for a moment, studying d’Anconia’s face. Francisco had said it very simply, neither as a reproach nor a plea, but in a manner which, strangely, acknowledged Rearden’s dignity and his own.
“No,” said Rearden, “whatever else you guessed, I did not say that.”
“Thank you. In that case, you will allow me to speak to you.”
“Why should you wish to speak to me?”
“My motives cannot interest you at present.”
“Mine is not the sort of conversation that could interest you at all.”
“You are mistaken about one of us, Mr. Rearden, or both. I came to this party solely in order to meet you.”
There had been a faint tone of amusement in Rearden’s voice; now it hardened into a hint of contempt. “You started by playing it straight. Stick to it.”
“I am.”
“What did you want to meet me for? In order to make me lose money?”
Francisco looked straight at him. “Yes – eventually.”
“What is it, this time? A gold mine?”
Francisco shook his head slowly; the conscious deliberation of the movement gave it an air that was almost sadness. “No,” he said, “I don’t want to sell you anything. As a matter of fact, I did not attempt to sell the copper mine to James Taggart, either. He came to me for it. You won’t.”
Rearden chuckled. “If you understand that much, we have at least a sensible basis for conversation. Proceed on that. If you don’t have some fancy investment in mind, what did you want to meet me for?”
“In order to become acquainted with you,”
“That’s not an answer. It’s just another way of saying the same thing.”
“Not quite, Mr. Rearden.”
“Unless you mean – in order to gain my confidence?”
“No. I don’t like people who speak or think in terms of gaining anybody’s confidence. 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.”
How many people do you know with the skills and confidence to talk like that in real life? I certainly wish I would see more.