Montag returns to the firehouse with Faber in ear. Beatty tries to freak him out by pitting literature against literature, demonstrating the "contradictory" nature of books in a strange monologue that truly terrifies Montag. All of this wordplay is mere setup for what comes next: the firemen leave to go burn down a new house, and Montag is caught off guard to find that the next victim he is getting paid to torch will be himself.
Mildred, it becomes clear, is the one that called the police and informed them of Montag's book-hoarding tendencies. Yet Montag feels no ill will towards this "strange woman," even as she flees the scene in a taxi and leaves him to deal with his sins alone. He is forced to burn down his own house, but the experience seems distinctly euphoric for him. A pyromaniac's therapy, if you will.
Beatty taunts our beloved protag throughout this time, forgetting that he is teasing a flamethrower-wielding man in a lapse of judgement Montag later amounts to a death wish. A death wish fulfilled, as Montag torches Beatty after he threatens Faber. With this, our rebel becomes a full-fledged fugitive in a scene positively blazing with Bradbury's colorful description--Montag stumbles away after being bitten by, and subsequently killing, The Hound.
Beatty is such an ironic character. He is a sort of self-aware villain, full of contradictions and spouting dishonesty. He reminds me of The Joker, in a weird way--I wish I could think of an example with more significant literary merit, AP Scorers, but alas. The both of them enjoy playing mind games with the protagonist and our protagonists are often roped into empathizing with them despite it all. Though Batman never kills, and Montag killed Beatty. But I digress.
"The Sieve and the Sand" is, to me, the most interesting symbol of the novel thus far. Montag recounts a childhood experience in which a cousin promised him money in exchange for his getting sand in a sieve. Past Montag cried out of frustration at his own futility, and current Montag cries out of frustration at his own futility. In this case, "futility" is his incapability of understanding knowledge (in the form of literature) the way he desperately wishes to... the sand is truth, the sieve is Montag. He cannot possibly know everything in the world, but he feels like he has to in order to compensate for years of ignorance.
