Aлександр Грин - The Seeker of Adventure

"You are an artist, or you ought to be one," said Ammon.

"Now I'll show you the cow," said Dogger animatedly, "it's of a good breed and a healthy specimen."

They emerged into the cheery, spacious yard, where a lot of poultry was wandering about: variegated hens, fiery roosters, motley ducks, irritable turkeys, baby chickens as yellow as dandelions, and several pairs of pheasants. A huge chained dog was lying in a green kennel with his tongue hanging out. Pigs that looked like pink logs glittered within an enclosure; a donkey flapped its ears and cast a good-natured sidelong look at a rooster, which was rummaging with his claw in some manure under the donkey's very hoof; and flocks of blue and white pigeons flew through the air-this bucolic sight indicated so much peaceful joy that Ammon smiled. Dogger surveyed the yard with a satisfied air and said:

"I very much like animals that are of a congenial nature. Tigers, boa constrictors, snakes, chameleons, and other anarchists are unpleasant to me. Now let's look at the cow."

Ammon saw four giant cows in the barn, where small but clear windows let in plenty of light. Dogger approached one of the cows, which had crescent-shaped horns and was the colour of yellow soap; the beast exuded strength, fat, and milk; the huge, pink, black-spotted udder hung almost to the ground. The cow, as though realising that she was being inspected, turned her heavy, thick muzzle towards the men and flicked her tail.

Dogger stood with arms akimbo-which made him look like a peasant-and looked at Ammon, the cow, and again at Ammon; then he gave the cow a solid slap on the rump with the palm of his hand.

"A beauty! I call her Diana. She's the best specimen in the district."

"Yes, she's impressive," Ammon affirmed.

Dogger took down a red copper bucket that was hanging in a row with some others and began to roll up his sleeves.

"Watch me do the milking, Ammon. Then try the milk."

Suppressing a smile, Ammon put on an expression of keen attention. Dogger squatted, placed the bucket beneath the cow, and by skilfully squeezing the teats caused streams of milk to strike forcefully against the resonant copper. Very soon the bucket contained a couple of inches of milk, all frothy from the spray. Dogger's serious face, his motherly treatment of the cow, and the sight of a man doing the milking so convulsed Ammon that he could not restrain himself and began to roar with laughter. Dogger stopped milking, looked at him with amazement, and finally burst out laughing himself.

"I can tell you're a city-dweller," he said. "You don't find it ridiculous when morbidly excited people jump about in front of each other and lift their feet in time to music. But healthy pursuits directly related to nature make you laugh."

"Excuse me," said Ammon, "I imagined myself in your place and... And I'll always be ashamed of myself for this."

"Forget it," Dogger calmly rejoined, "it's just nerves. Try some."

He brought an earthenware mug from the depths of the barn and poured out some of the thick, almost hot milk for Ammon.

"Ah," said Ammon when he had drunk it, "your cow has nothing to be ashamed of. I positively envy you. You've discovered life's simple wisdom."

"Yes," Dogger nodded.

"Are you very happy?"

"Yes," Dogger nodded.

"I couldn't be wrong, could I?"

"No."

Dogger unhurriedly took the empty mug from Ammon and unhurriedly took it back to its former place.

"It's ridiculous," he said when he returned, "it's ridiculous to boast, but my life is truly filled with joyful peace."

Ammon offered him his hand.

"I salute you with all my heart," he uttered slowly, in order that he might detain Dogger's hand a while longer. But Dogger, smiling ingenuously, likewise pressed Ammon's hand and did so without a trace of impatience-even willingly.

"Now let's go have lunch," said Dogger, as he walked out of the shed. "We'll be able to look at the rest this evening, if you're interested: the meadow, the kitchen-garden, the greenhouse, and the seedbeds."

They returned along the same road. On the way Dogger said:

"Those who seek ugliness and disease in nature, rather than health and beauty, lose a great deal."

No words could have been more appropriate than these amidst the sweetbriar and jasmine that lined the fragrant pathways, along which Ammon Root walked and observed Dogger out of the corner of his eye.

Ammon Root had rarely experienced so robust and pure and simple a life as that with which fate had brought him into contact at Dogger's estate. A remnant of suspiciousness stayed with him until the end of lunch, but the Doggers' affable manner and the natural simplicity of their movements, smiles, and glances enveloped Root with a winning aroma of happiness. The hearty lunch consisted of butter, milk, cheese, ham, and eggs. Ammon also liked the servant who brought in and cleared away the food; she was a sedate woman and, like everyone in the house, healthy.

At Elma's request Ammon spoke a little about his travels. Through a sense of inner opposition that a born city person characteristically experiences in the country, where he is somewhat of an alien, he then began to speak of the season's novelties.

"There's a new operetta by Rastrelli – The Pink Gnome – which is worse than his last piece. Rastrelli is repeating himself. But Sedir's concerts are enchanting. His violin-playing is powerful, and I think that a violinist like Sedir could rule an entire kingdom with the help of his bow."

"I don't like music," said Dogger, breaking an egg. "May I offer you some goat's-milk cheese?"

Ammon bowed.

"And you, madam?" he said.

"My tastes coincide with those of my husband," Elma answered, reddening a little. "I don't like music either; I'm indifferent to it."

Ammon did not immediately find anything to say in reply, since he believed what he had heard. These calm and self-possessed people had no reason to pose for effect. But Ammon began to feel a little like he did when he was sitting in the cafeteria that served vegetarian food.

"Well, there's no point in arguing the matter," he said. "A small painting by Alar, 'The Dragon with a Splinter in His Paw', fascinated me at an exhibition in the spring. The efforts which the dragon makes while rolling on his back like a dog in order to get rid of the wood sliver are very convincing. It is impossible to doubt that dragons exist after you look at this painting depicting their everyday life. However, my friend found that even if this dragon had been drinking milk and licking its chops..."

"I don't like art," Dogger remarked curtly.

Elma looked at him, then at Ammon, and smiled.

"That's enough of that," she said. "When were you last in the tropics?"

"No, I want to explain," Dogger softly interrupted. "Art is a great evil – I'm speaking, of course, about real art. The theme of art is beauty, but nothing causes so much suffering as beauty. Imagine the most perfect work of art. There is more cruelty lurking in it than a person could bear."

"But there is also beauty in life," Ammon rejoined.

"The beauty of art is more hurtful than the beauty of life."

"What is your conclusion, then?"

"I feel a loathing for art. I have, as they say, the soul of a philistine. I stand for order in politics, for constancy in love, and for inconspicuous but useful work in society. And on the whole for industriousness, honesty, responsibility, serenity, and moderate self-esteem in one's personal life."

"I cannot disagree with you," Ammon said guardedly. Dogger's assured tone had finally persuaded him that Tonar was right. Dogger was a rare example of a person who had created a special world of indestructible normalcy.

Suddenly Dogger laughed merrily.