"Alexander Green - The Seeker Of Adventure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Alexander)

circus snake with his teeth on a bet, kept a harem in Cairo, and now is a
cheese merchant. A third is remarkable for being a true phenomenon. He
possessed a startling ability to concentrate the attention of all those
around him exclusively on himself; everyone was silent in his presence,
and only he spoke-a little more intelligence, and he could have done
whatever he pleased. A fourth blinded himself of his own volition, so as not
to see people. A fifth was a sincere, forty-year-old fool; when people asked
him what he was, he answered that he was a fool and laughed.
Interestingly, he was neither a madman nor an idiot, but simply a classical
fool. A sixth ... the sixth ... is myself."
"Yes?" Tonar asked ironically.
"Yes. I'm against false humility. I have seen a lot during the forty-five
years of my life; I have experienced a lot, and I have participated a lot in
others' lives."
"But.... No!" said Tonar after a silence. "I know a truly interesting
person. You bundles of nerves live in want. You always have too little of
everything. I know a person who leads an ideally beautiful normal life, who
is perfectly well-bred and possesses outstanding principles, and who lives
in the healthy atmosphere of farm work and nature. By the way, that is my
ideal. But I am not a person of one piece. You ought to have a look at him,
Ammon. His life is to yours as that of a juicy red apple is to a rotten
banana."
"For God's sake!" exclaimed Ammon. "Show me this monster!"
"As you wish. He's from our circle."
Ammon laughed when he tried to imagine a peaceful and healthy life.
Eccentric, hot-tempered, and brusque-at times he felt vaguely attracted to
such an existence, but only in his imagination; monotony crushed him.
There was so much appetizing mental lip-smacking in Tonar's account
that Ammon became interested.
"If it's not ideal," he said, "I won't go, but if you assure...."
"I guarantee that the most immoderate claims...."
"I've never yet seen such a person," interrupted Ammon. "Please write
me a letter of recommendation by tomorrow. Is it very far?"
"A four-hour ride."
Ammon, who was pacing up and down the room, stopped behind
Tonar's back; carried away by the impressions that were in store, he put
his hand on his friend's bald spot, as though on a lectern, and recited:
My native fields! To your serenity,
To sparkling moonlight shining pensively,
To languid mists meandering through winding vales,
To the naive allure of ancient myths and tales,
To rosy cheeks and eyes with hearty gleam,
I have returned; and now your features seem
Unaltered, while the very soul of grace
Preserves my dream amidst this native place!
"Are you really forty-five years old?" asked Tonar, settling heavily into
his armchair.
"Forty-five." Ammon approached the mirror. "Who is there to pull out
my grey hairs for me? And will I indeed be travelling, travelling, travelling
for a long time yet-perhaps forever?"