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

his small beard and moustache. Dogger's outfit consisted of a canvas shirt
and pants, a leather belt, and high boots of soft leather. His handshake
was firm but quick, while his deep voice rang out clearly and freely.
"I'm Ammon Koot," said Ammon, bowing, "if you've received Tonar's
letter, I'll have the honour of explaining to you the reason why I came."
"I received his letter, and you are first and foremost my guest," said
Dogger with a courteous smile. "Let's go in; I'll introduce you to my wife.
Then we'll talk about everything you wish to discuss."
Ammon followed him into a very simple living room with high windows
and modest furniture. Nothing stuck out; on the contrary, everything was
designed for subtle comfort. Here and in the other rooms that Ammon
visited the furnishings were forgotten, as the body forgets pieces of
clothing that have long since become familiar. There were no paintings or
prints on the walls. Ammon did not notice this at first: the piers'
emptiness seemed to be casually draped with the folds of the window
curtains. The tidiness, cleanliness, and light imparted a nuance of tender
solicitude for the things with which, like with old friends, people live their
entire lives.
"Elma!" said Dogger, opening the hall door. "Come here."
Ammon was impatient to meet Dogger's wife. He was interested in
seeing them as a couple. Before a minute had gone by a beautiful smiling
woman in a smart open-sleeved house-dress emerged from the dim light
of the hall. Her every movement spoke of overflowing good health. A
blonde of about twenty-two, she sparkled with the refreshing calm of
contented young blood, with the gaiety of a well-rested body, and with the
majestic good nature of enduring happiness. Ammon thought that
everything must be just as harmonious, beautiful, and joyful on the inside,
where her body worked in mysterious ways: her heart of steel meticulously
pumped scarlet blood through her blue veins, while her pink lungs
vigorously inhaled air to refresh the blood, warmed amidst white ribs
beneath the white breast.
Dogger, without ceasing to smile -- which seemed to be more of a need
than an effort for him -- introduced Root to his wife; she began to speak
freely and lustily, as though she had known Ammon for a long time.
"Being a traveller, you will be a little bored at our place, but that will
only be good for you ... yes, good."
"I'm touched," said Ammon, bowing.
Everyone sat down. Dogger, like Elma, sat in silence, smiling
ingenuously, and gazing directly into Ammon's face; their expressions
said: "We see that you are also a very homely person; it is an easy matter
to sit silently with you and not be bored." Despite the winning simplicity
of his hosts and the furnishings, Ammon did not trust what he saw.
"I very much want to explain the purpose of my visit to you," he said,
getting down to the necessary lie. "In the course of my travels I have
become a zealous photographer. In my opinion this pastime can involve
quite a bit of artistry."
"Artistry," Dogger nodded.
"Yes. Every landscape passes through hundreds of phases every day.
Each time the sun, the time of day, the moon, the stars, or a human figure
make it different: they either add to it or take something away. Tonar