Renni the Rescuer (17 page)

“No,” declared George, “you're charming. You have a magic way about you! We all miss you so.”

Laughing and weeping at the same time, Ludmilla cried, “Do you hear, darling? Do you hear?”

The solemn “Certainly I hear, Millie!” which Vassili murmured softly was lost in Ludmilla's torrent of words. “They miss me, Vassili! They miss us! But we miss you too, don't we, Vassili? And we've longed for you, for all of you. Oh, my dear, darling George, it was so lovely when we all used to have tea together at your house! It warmed the soul. When we quarrelled, we felt as if we had been banished, exiled a second time, we poor people who have no country left to us.” Again her eyes filled with those big bright tears.

“Shall we forget it all and bury it forever?” suggested George. “If you can, I'm sure Mother and I can.”

“Buried and forgotten!” Ludmilla cried.

She leaned over to George, threw an arm about his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.

Vassili said very gravely, “I cannot forget . . . . But as for forgiving . . . ” He offered his hand and George took it.

“Holy Virgin of Kazan!” Ludmilla moaned suddenly. “We'll never get to come and see you again! I insulted Miss Bettina . . . I insulted her so terribly.”

“Don't worry,” George comforted her. “Bettina understands that you're against her.”

“Did she say so?”

“Not a word. She never says anything,” George admitted. “She'll be as friendly and kind as ever.”

Ludmilla seemed convinced. “What a good girl! It's hard to believe! Just a girl of the common people, not pretty, but so good-hearted!”

Surprisingly Vassili said, with slow significance, “She is a noble woman.”

* * *

When George reached home he started right in to give them the story.

“It's a relief to me on your account,” Mother Marie said to him. “It worried me that you were so rude to the poor lady. It didn't seem like you.”

“Well, I was glad to find out that George had the nerve to speak up to her. As a general rule he's far too easy going,” was Tanya's opinion. She added, “My parents must have been very pleased. They've known all along that Mama deserved a calling down, but they never will admit how much they've missed coming here.”

“Oh, yes indeed; they expressly said so,” said George.

“Well, what do you know about that!” said Tanya.

Bettina and Vladimir were silent.

Right then Mitya and Kolya came in and were greeted noisily by Renni. It was as though they had been there no longer ago than yesterday, instead of weeks having passed. They played with the dog and teased the kitten without the slightest embarrassment.

Only, as they started to leave, plump Mitya took George's hand. “I'm so glad all that rot is over.”

Big, lumbering Kolya, who was petting Renni, was more sceptical. “Mama will break out somewhere else. Just give her time. You can depend on it.”

After a few days the old couple came over. They tried to act as if nothing had happened, but their stiffness
was very marked. Vassili bowed lower than ever from the hips. It was quite a while before he seemed at ease. Ludmilla smiled her charming smile, though her eyes filled with tears when she threw her arms about Mother Marie.

She was wearing gloves and so could venture to pet Renni. “There you are, you good old dog.” It sounded like the condescension of a queen.

But Renni had no relish for such favours. He looked around in astonishment, wagged his tail a little, very politely, and got away from Ludmilla as quickly as he could.

But there was no graciousness for Bettina. She was greeted with a slight nod only, and after that neither of them looked her way once. Vassili seemed to have forgotten he had called her a noble woman.

Still everything went off smoothly enough. The Safonoffs began coming over for tea almost every day. And as it happened they were there when Vogg came in unexpectedly.

“Why didn't you come to see me?” he snorted at
George. “I sent word to you, didn't I? Or hasn't Nickel been here?”

“Why don't you speak to these guests?” asked George.

Vogg looked at Vassili and Ludmilla contemptuously. “Those are the people who wanted to buy a whole pack of dogs to keep tied up . . . . Oh yes, I know them.”

“We can dispense with this gentleman's courtesies,” Vassili declared with every show of dignity and began to move towards the door.

Old Vogg stepped up to Mother Marie. “You're the mother, eh?” He shook her hand. “You have a fine son.”

Just then Renni ran in between his legs and the eager swinging of the dog's tail almost upset him.

“Yes, you're friendly with me, aren't you?” Vogg patted him on the neck, took him by the muzzle and turned his face up to look in his eyes. “You don't get insulted, do you? You know what I mean, eh? You're a dog, and that's why we two get along so well. Go tell your master to come into another room with me or out in the garden, even if it is raining. How about it?”

The cat gave a leap and landed on his shoulder, stuck
her head up against his chin and purred loudly. He laughed, reached out for her gently and held her against his breast. “Well, animals are nice to me, anyhow.”

“Oh, come on,” George said. And the two, followed by Renni, went out into the hall. Then Vogg turned Kitty loose and spoke to George. “You wouldn't get off your perch and come to see me, eh?”

“I didn't begin the quarrel, Mr. Vogg. I never start fights, but I never make up, either.”

“Why not, you hard-hearted villain?”

“Because . . . I can't get over a breach of friendship . . . that's why.”

“I am an old man. You ought to have thought about that. But anyway,” Vogg spoke more eagerly, “what's the use of talking about what might have been. I'm here now. I was unjust and it's worried me for a long time, even before Nickel told me . . . But don't let's act like men! Let's learn from the dogs! Let's not bear grudges.”

He put out his hand and George took it. “Dogs, Mr. Vogg, note and remember everything we do to them. The good as well as the bad.”

“Let that go for me.” Vogg sat down on the floor and put both arms about Renni. The dog freed himself and tore around the hall. Kitty chased after him, graceful and dainty. It ended with all three—Renni, Kitty and Vogg—rolling together on the floor. George looked on in much better humour. Nothing more was said. Only, as he started to leave, Vogg, who had resumed his gruff, curt way of speaking, said, “Give my regards to your mother.”

A
UTUMN SOON TURNED TO winter, with pouring rains, violent winds, piercing cold. They sat comfortably in the living-room or did what there was to do in the house, packing potatoes and other vegetables away in the storeroom to keep them from freezing. When the boy Rurpert Fifer reported for work Mother Marie welcomed him warmly. His excessive enthusiasm for Renni ought to have been enough in itself to put them on their guard. He told how the dog had found
him and saved his life, and adorned the tale with most fantastic details. Since there was no other work to be done George set him to chopping wood, but Rupert was slow about it and soon showed himself a lazy rascal. Nobody in the house could really like him, though all had been more than willing at first. Even Renni seemed to feel something in the fellow that kept him from his usual cheerful confidence; he was polite but reserved.

For the time being, they had little time to think of Rupert, for in George's house, as all over the country, political affairs had begun to attract an attention which they had never before aroused. This interest grew and grew, and the less they understood the political situation, the more violently they all debated it.

Vassili expressed himself very gravely. “It is to be hoped that you will remain at peace. It does not concern me, of course. Thank God, I had my war experience years ago and lived through it. I can tell you it would be a disaster.”

Alarmed and serious, Ludmilla said, “War is a great disaster. There is no greater.” She sighed deeply and made the sign of the cross.

George said, easily, “I know nothing at all about these things. Possibly for that very reason I don't see any danger.”

Vladimir responded gloomily, “Yes, that's exactly why you don't see the danger.” He was scanning the newspapers day by day.

And the language of the papers became more and more violent. Rumours fluttered through the air like moths, and from them all the only possible conclusion was that harmony and good will were hopelessly shattered.

The papers of the neighbouring country were no less inflamed.

“There's poison in their speech,” wailed Mother Marie, who got her information from Vladimir.

George had apparently no interest in it all. “Just talk,” he said, and he played with Renni or went out with him for a walk in the forest that now lay sleeping under its blanket of snow.

Renni loved the snow. He swallowed great mouthfuls of it, dived into it, scattering flakes in every direction,
wallowed and buried himself so deep that he came out all crusted over with ice and snow and scarcely recognisable. Then he would shake himself wildly and George would have a task to get him brushed off clean.

Christmas was drawing near, but a burden of fear lay on all the people—on the working men, on the middle classes, and even on the rich. Many of the well-to-do deposited their money and valuables in foreign lands and exchanged their securities for foreign paper; and this made the national bonds fall disastrously. The palaces in the capital stood empty, guarded only by a few servants, while the families spent the winter at their castles in the country.

Business at Christmas time was poorer than it had been for years. Many factories closed down, so that the labourers were soon going hungry and began to complain bitterly. The government took a hand. A law was passed which set severe penalties for sending money out of the country, and another law which ordered businesses either to open their doors or be confiscated. The whole world was in a state of feverish excitement.

As the cost of food soared to fantastic heights the government fixed maximum prices. Then many important articles of food disappeared from the market and people took to buying and selling them secretly.

The whole huge, intricate and complicated machinery of living together, which as a rule runs so smoothly and steadily, now began to slow down. It threatened to become clogged in the mass of conflicting interests, and to stop altogether. The lessons of the World War called forth one emergency measure after another. But there was no severe distress yet.

George spoke in bitter terms of the rich who fled the country. Not till now was his interest in public affairs awakened. He was firmly convinced that his own nation was entirely in the right, but he knew very little about the points of difference and still could not believe that war was drawing near.

“You do not understand these people,” Vassili said to him when George stormed against the rich who had emigrated. “You judge them too harshly, my friend.” Vassili's solemn tone carried a trace of hurt feelings.

“You can't be too harsh!” cried George. “These people got wealthy here and now in its hour of need they desert the land that gave them their money. At the very first hint of danger! That's worse than cowardice. It's the blackest ingratitude, the lowest form of selfishness. It's treason!”

“I suppose you don't realise that your words might apply to us.” Ludmilla smiled. “We would be beggars this minute if we had not left our country at the right time.”

“That is so, precisely so,” Vassili affirmed.

“But,” said George, “your case is different, quite different. You were in a country in revolution. You saw the coming of the volcanic eruption in time. No revolution is to be feared here. Or are we on a sinking ship; that the rats are in such a hurry to get away?”

“Let's think about that,” boomed Vassili. “Rats are clever animals. When they leave it is not a question of
possible
danger. You can be sure that
real
danger is very near at hand. Rats know more than you and I.”

Ludmilla made the sign of the cross. “Perhaps we
ought to leave too. Maybe we should go south.”

“There is still plenty of time for that, Millie,” said Vassili. “We shall have to think it over a little.”

“I'm going to stay here no matter what happens,” Tanya declared.

Vladimir felt that same way about it. “I am not going to stir from this spot.”

“Suit yourselves,” said Vassili with ill humour.

And Ludmilla simpered, “Our other children will be only too happy to go with us.”

From that day on George believed in the war.

* * *

Just before Christmas things came to a head with Rupert Fifer. George found the woodshed door standing open one day and heard Kitty crying and Renni growling inside. Then came an agonised howl. George alarmed, rushed in. Renni crept past him, crouching to the floor. Kitty, her back arched and her fur on end, stood on a high rick. As soon as she caught sight of George she made a leap for his breast as though to seek protection.