Renni the Rescuer (18 page)

“What's going on here?” asked George.

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”

“You haven't chopped any wood.” George looked around suspiciously.

“I've chopped enough. I can't work like a slave all day.”

“Has anybody asked you to?” George was getting angry. “But you ought to do enough to pay your board.”

“I didn't come here to chop wood anyway,” Rupert replied insolently.

“I suppose you came to torment the animals,” said George in a stern tone. “Why was the cat crying? Eh?”

He let Kitty slip into the hallway and gave the boy his full attention. “Answer me! The truth! Why was the dog howling? Something pretty bad had happened to him. Out with it now and don't try to lie.”

Rupert was getting uncomfortable. “Those animals of yours don't know how to take a joke.”

“All right,” George insisted. “I want to know what your joke was.”

“I didn't mean any harm. Why did the cat want to make so much fuss about it when I picked her up by the tail? And then Renni snarled at me . . . and . . . ”

“And?” George was trembling with rage.

“And . . . then I gave him one.”

Before the words were out of his mouth George landed a sharp slap on his jaw.

Rupert wailed, “Do you expect me to wait till he bites me?”

But his words were lost in George's raging. “You struck Renni, you wretch, the dog to whom you owe so much! The dog that nobody's ever struck in his life. You struck him, you dirty swine!”

He was slapping Rupert from one wall of the narrow woodshed to the other, regardless of his screams of pain. At last, out of breath, he pushed him away.

Mother Marie, Tanya and Bettina were standing in the entry. “Enough, my son,” begged Mother Marie, whose face was pale.

But Bettina said, “That fellow couldn't possibly get the beating he deserves.”

“Pack your things at once,” roared George, “and get out of here as quick as you can.”

Rupert ran up the stairs at top speed. He soon came
down with his bundle, whining, “You're going to pay for this.”

A well-aimed kick from George's foot sent him stumbling through the front door. Renni, barking loudly, chased him to the garden gate, and then returned swinging his tail in triumph.

George told what he had caught the boy doing. And now Bettina had something to report. “He's been making fun of you from the first day on. I don't know why he confided in me. Whenever I tried to set him right about anything he always laughed. ‘I know that fellow,' he'd say; ‘he's no man, he's a milksop. He's a sissy that I can wind around my finger. I can make a fool of him whenever I want to.' He boasted he'd waited till the work in the garden and fields was over before he came here. ‘I'll have a nice living all winter and won't have to work myself to death.' That's the kind of shirker he was behind your back.”

“And you kept quiet about it all this time. Why?” For the first time George was out of patience with Bettina.

She answered in her determined way, “I don't like
to tell tales. It's a matter of principle with me. Besides, I knew you'd find out for yourself what your protégé was like. And sure enough it didn't take long.”

* * *

Several weeks passed without improvement in the political situation. On the contrary the two cabinets, at home and in the neighbouring country, carried on an open war of words. The exchange of diplomatic notes became sharper and finally broke off. There was something disturbing, something fateful in this twofold silence.

“A peaceful solution seems no longer possible,” Vassili intoned solemnly.

“Peaceful?” Ludmilla was not smiling now. During the last few weeks that magic smile of hers had disappeared. “Peaceful, my dear? No one thinks of peace now. On either side. Let's make arrangements to leave at once.”

Vassili replied gently, “You are always right, Millie.” None of the others said a word.

•  •  •

A few days later Tanya and Vladimir came over. Vladimir reported: “My parents, my brothers and my sister Manya are ‘rats.' ” His grin was ashamed and embarrassed. “They sent you their best wishes.”

“Where did they go?” Mother Marie inquired.

“We don't know for sure,” said Tanya. “I think they've gone to Egypt. Before they left we had a terrible row.”

“They wanted us to go with them,” Vladimir explained. He smiled faintly. “Now there is plenty of room in the big house . . . plenty of room.”

T
HE SNOW MELTED IN THE spring sunshine. The work in field and garden began again and everyone was as busy as could be.

“I wonder whether we'll ever gather the harvest,” said George with a heavy heart. “Whether I'll see the flowers bloom and the cherries ripen.”

In the armament factories work went on at full speed. Muster assemblies were held and the reservists were warned to be ready at a moment's notice. Classes
of recruits were called before their time, and their training went on at double-quick. George got his notice to be ready for duty—the detachment to which he was detailed and to which he must report when the time came.

Early one evening after work was over he came in from the fields with Tanya and Renni. Vladimir waited until George had washed and then led him quietly into the living-room. “Tanya has gone over to our house as usual, and I want to talk with you,” he whispered mysteriously.

“All right,” George replied, without curiosity. “Is it something important?”

“Terribly important.” Vladimir paused, and then went on very impressively, “Times are critical—and they're going to get worse, don't you think?”

“They're sure to . . . . But I don't understand. You're a foreigner and you're not liable to military service.”

“No, I'm not, but . . . ” There was just a glimmer of Vladimir's familiar smile. Then he grew very serious and looked George in the eye. “I beg you be honest with me, my friend, completely honest.”

“I always am—with you, and, I hope, with everyone else.”

Vladimir hesitated a moment longer. “Well then, do you think a lot of Bettina?”

“Silly question!” George ran his hand over Renni's head and neck. “Of course I think a lot of her.”

“A very great deal?” Vladimir's voice trembled slightly.

George looked up. “What's on your mind? Go on and say it.”

“Would you be angry . . . if another . . . if I . . . ?”

“Say, do you think this is a surprise to me?” George laughed.

“We just wanted to know whether we had your permission.”

“Who's ‘we'?”

“Why, Bettina and I.”

“You need fear no objection from me. But how about your father and mother?”

Vladimir frowned. “I told them about it as they were leaving. They are neither for nor against it. Their last word was that I should do as I pleased.”

“Well then, I wish you happiness.”

Rather unexpectedly Vladimir was not at all sentimental over it. He called the dog to him and as Renni put out his paw to shake hands he murmured, “You are happy, Renni. Only you . . . . And God knows how long it will last.”

* * *

There was no change in the relationship of the five people. They lived and they worked together as before. Vladimir and Bettina spoke occasionally of preparations for their marriage.

“We shall need very little,” said Vladimir. “There are plenty of things over at our house.”

And Bettina said, “We won't need anything at all.” The others offered no suggestion.

Spring moved on, drawing into summer.

One day Nickel came over with Hector. He had news. “Our dogs will soon have work to do.”

“Is that why you're in such good humour?” said Mother Marie, petting Hector.

“Well, good humour helps more than bad.” Nickel
laughed. He delivered a little lecture. “Fate has set itself in motion, hasn't it? Is there anything I can do to protect myself against it? I, or George, or any of us? Just look here, now: Not even these governments snarling in each other's faces can stop it. Am I right? These statesmen that act so high and mighty and imagine they're guiding events—they haven't the slightest suspicion that they're themselves under a higher law. Fate, my dear lady, fate. There's no way to resist it. Am I right?”

“If . . . ” George began.

“You're about to say something silly.” Nickel cut him short. “There's no such thing as
if
when you're talking of fate. Not while a thing's happening, and certainly not after it's happened. Could anybody have stopped the World War? Not by a long shot. It would have broken out even without the assassinations at Sarajevo. Just think it over: That young Serbian—his name was Princip, wasn't it?—with two bullets he killed two people, the heir apparent and his wife. That double killing with one revolver you'll hardly find repeated in the history of firearms. The young man must have been too excited to
take good aim, and he didn't have time. Yet each bullet took effect. Fate! Clear case of fate. Am I right?”

“How many human lives were destroyed in the World War?” asked Mother Marie.

Nickel's laugh was short and harsh. “Exactly as many as fate marked for death. Not one more. Not one less. And those who must die this summer—who on earth can say
why
they must be sacrificed? No more do we know of that than we can tell which are doomed to fall. Fate decides. Dark, mysterious, unfathomable, but all-powerful fate.”

“I shudder at the thought,” said Mother Marie.

“I've got over shuddering,” Nickel cried. “It does no good. I can only laugh over a world gone mad. It helps me keep my balance. Yes, the world has undoubtedly gone mad, dear lady, but there's a mysterious law at work. This world of ours is coming to an end. It's certainly going to smash. Anybody can see that, can't he? And the new world which will come into being is a world we'll never live to see, a world we can't even imagine.”

“The old world of castles and palaces,” interrupted George, “the world in which a handful rolled in luxury and the masses starved . . . that world seems gone forever.”

“Do you regret it?” Nickel asked.

“I—regret?” George was almost angry. “When millions go hungry there's no justice in pomp and luxury for the few.”

“But we can't be too sure about the future, my friend. This very day the upstarts who have grown great indulge themselves and revel as the kings and princes used to do. Who knows whether the future will really change things.”

“You're not consistent. And aren't you exaggerating now?”

“Maybe. I don't know. One minute I'm full of hope. The next I'm all gloom.”

Hector and Kitty were rolling and wrestling on the floor. Renni stood near them, ears high, nose down, turning his head alternately from one to the other, ready at any moment to take a part in the game. But he
found no chance. Hector had Kitty's head in his mouth again and she lay on her back kicking with hind feet at her captor till at last he set her free. Before either of the dogs could seize her she slipped away and landed on the window sill with one jump; as the dogs reared up toward her, barking, she gave a flying leap to the top of the high clothespress, quite beyond their reach.

There she sat with a lofty, indifferent look on her face and began busily making her toilet. Renni and Hector played for a few minutes and then stretched out, each at his master's feet.

“These fellows—” said George, slapping Renni on the flank—“they live in a world that's always happy.”

“A world where they have no will of their own.”

“That's the reason for it,” George agreed. “Without will of their own. They're absolutely loyal. They never change. You can't shake them.”

“Well, we're true to our duty, too, and we have no will of our own,” said Nickel. “You and I, we ought to be happy. We and our dogs go to war, not to kill men, but to help them, to save them from death.”

“Thank God,” sighed Mother Marie.

When Nickel had left, George set about putting his equipment in order. “War may begin any day now,” he said.

* * *

Tanya went to see Vogg. “I'd like to buy a dog. If possible, one about a year old.”

The breeder looked at her sharply. “Don't you belong to that Russian family?” She admitted it, only to be told, “I've no dog for you.”

“But it isn't for me.”

Vogg was suspicious and stuck to his guns. “I haven't any dogs.”

But Tanya insisted, “You're going to sell me a dog.”

Vogg asked ironically, “Does the old man think he can worry along with one watch dog now?”

Tanya laughed. “I wasn't thinking of my father. He has gone off on a long journey and I don't know when he'll be back.”