Aлександр Грин - The Seeker of Adventure

Ammon turned around. A large and thick folder lying on the table drew his distracted attention; when he opened it, he found it full of drawings. But they were strange and wild... Ammon examined one after the other and was struck by the superhuman skill of fantasy evidenced in them. He saw flocks of ravens flying over fields of roses; hills that were covered, as though by grass, with electric lights; a river, dammed up by green corpses; hirsute, interlaced hands that were gripping bloodied knives; an inn, full to overflowing with drunk fish and lobsters; a garden in which gallows with executed men had taken strong root; the huge tongues of execution victims hung to the ground and children were swinging on them and laughing; corpses, which were reading yellowed tomes in their graves by the light of luminescent pieces of rotten wood; a swimming pool, full of bearded women; scenes of depravity, such as a feast of cannibals who were skinning a fat man; in the same drawing, a hand jutted out of a cauldron which hung over the fire; weirdly hideous figures, who had red whiskers and blue heads of hair, and who were one-eyed, three-eyed, and blind, paraded before him one after the other-one was eating a snake, another was playing dice with a tiger, a third cried, and jewels fell from his eyes. In almost all the drawings gold sequins were strewn over the clothes of the figures; they had been done with care, as in general any beloved work is done. Ammon leafed through the drawings with a terrible curiosity. The door slammed; he jumped away from the table and saw Dogger.

Even at the most dangerous moments Ammon never lost his self-possession; however, taken unawares, he experienced momentary confusion. Dogger had apparently not expected to see Ammon; he stopped at the door irresolutely and looked around, but soon he grew pale and then flared up so that his bare neck reddened with anger.

"By what right did you come here?" he shouted, striding over to Ammon. "How am I to regard this? I didn't expect such a thing! Eh? Ammon!"

"You're right," answered Ammon calmly, without lowering his eyes. "I had no right to enter. But I would have felt guilty only if I hadn't found anything; now that I've seen something here, I dare think that I've thus acquired the right to reject the charge of impudence. I'll say more: had I found out after I left what I would have seen if I had gone upstairs, and had I not done so – then I would have never forgiven myself for such an omission. My motives were the following... I'm sorry, but the matter demands frankness, whether you like it or not. I had vague doubts about your cows, Dogger, and about the turnips and the well-fed pheasant hens; when I accidentally came upon the true path to your soul, I attained my goal. The fearful power of a genius guided your brush. Yes, my eyes stole your secret, but I am no less proud of this thievery than Columbus was of the Western Hemisphere, since my calling is to seek, to pursue, to make discoveries!"

"Shut up!" cried Dogger. His face did not contain a trace of placid equanimity, but nor did it show any malice, which is out of place in people of lofty character; it expressed distressed indignation and pain. "You still dare... Oh, Ammon, you, with your conversations about that accursed art, caused me to lose sleep owing to agonies that are beyond your comprehension, and now, bursting into here, you want me to believe that your deed is praiseworthy. What makes you think you can take such liberties?"

"I am a seeker, a seeker of adventure," Ammon coldly retorted. "I have a different set of morals. There would be no merit in dealing with people's hearts and souls and never being cursed for these experiments. What good is a soul that lays itself servilely open to view?"

"However," said Dogger, "you are daring! I don't like people who are too daring. Leave. Return to your room and pack. You'll be given a horse at once; there's a night train."

"Fine!" Ammon walked towards the door. "Farewell!"

He was at the door when suddenly both of Dogger's hands seized him by the shoulders and spun him around. Ammon saw the pathetic face of a coward; he sensed Dogger's boundless fright and, not knowing what was the matter, grew pale with alarm.

"Not a word," said Dogger, "absolutely not a word to anyone! For my sake, for God's sake, have mercy-say nothing to anyone!"

"I give you my word; yes, I give you my word. Calm down."

Dogger let go of Ammon. His gaze, filled with hatred, stopped on each of the paintings in turn. Ammon walked out, descended the staircase, went into his own room, and prepared to go. Half an hour later, accompanied by a servant and without encountering Dogger again, he went out through the dark entrance from the garden side, where a carriage stood; he climbed in and rode off.

The starry dew of the sky, the agitation, the limitless, fragrant darkness, and the breath of roadside thickets intensified his enchanted exultation. The earth's huge, blind heart beat muffledly in time to Ammon's exultant heart, greeting its son the seeker. Ammon groped uncertainly but tenaciously for the true nature of Dogger's soul.

"No, you can't get away from yourself, Dogger, no," he said, remembering the drawings.

The coachman, who was racking his brains over the guest's sudden departure, timidly turned around and asked:

"Is there some urgent matter, sir?"

"Matter? Yes, precisely-a matter. I must go to India at once. My relatives there have come down with the plague-my grandmother, sister-in-law, and three first cousins."

"Is that so!" the peasant said in surprise. "Goodness me!"

"My friend," Tonar said to Ammon upon opening a letter, "Dogger, whom you visited four years ago, requests that you go to him immediately. Since he does not know your address, he's transmitting his request through me. But what could have happened there?"

Ammon, without concealing his surprise, quickly walked up to his friend.

"He's asking me over? How does he express himself?"

"As they used to do at the end of the eighteenth century. 'I shall be greatly indebted to you,'" read Tonar, '"if you inform Mr. Ammon Koot that I would be most grateful to him if he would meet with me at once...' Won't you explain what this is about?"

"No, I don't know."

"Really? You're a sly one, Ammon!"

"I can only promise to tell you afterwards, if things go all right."

"Very well. My curiosity's been aroused. What, are you already looking at the clock? Take a look at the train schedule."

"There's a train at four," said Ammon, pressing the buzzer. A servant appeared in the doorway. "Hert! High boots, a revolver, a laprobe, and a small travelling-bag. Farewell, Tonar. I'm going to Liliana's cheery meadows!"

Not without trepidation did Ammon heed the strange man's summons. He still remembered the painful blow that the two-faced woman in the wondrous paintings had dealt to his soul, and he involuntarily connected the paintings with Dogger's invitation. But it was pointless to try and guess what Dogger wanted from him. Undoubtedly, something serious was in store. Deep in thought, Ammon stood at the train window. With the thoroughness of a blind man who gropes for something that he needs, he mused upon all his knowledge of people, of all the complex junctures of their souls, and all the possibilities that followed from what he had seen four years ago; but, dissatisfied, he finally refused to predict the future.

At eight o'clock in the evening Ammon stood before the quiet house, in the garden where flowers prayed vividly, luxuriantly, and joyfully, to the sun setting amidst silvery clouds. Elma met Ammon; the musical clarity was missing from her movements and expression; a grieving, nervous, suffering woman stood before Ammon and softly said: