Read Online Renni the Rescuer by Felix Salten - Free Book Online Page B

beard. He talked slowly and solemnly as he introduced his wife Ludmilla. Her name was Ludmilla Philipovna, but his pet name for her was Millie. She was the exact opposite of her bear of a husband—short and plump and, where he was slow and solemn, active and gay. At least she was gay in her manner if not often in what she said.
    Two beautiful young daughters made their best bows and kept respectful silence in the presence of their parents. All that could be learned of them was their names, Manya and Tanya. The moment Ludmilla caught sight of Renni she cried out eagerly, “That’s the kind of dog I want! Big, strong watch dogs!”
    â€œHow many would you like, Millie?” inquired Vassili politely.
    â€œThree or four would be enough.” Ludmilla turned to Mother Marie. “Where can we buy dogs like that?”
    The astonished George told her. Ludmilla got sight of Nemo. “Oh, the poor thing! It hurts me to look at him. Why do you let him live? You must kill him.”
    Ludmilla did all the talking. Mother Marie thoughther charming because she was so affectionate with the kitten. To be sure, her affection had been shown in words only, and at a respectful distance. Vassili treated Renni and Kitty with formal politeness, but he also kept at some distance. As they left he said, “Of course you will do us the courtesy of returning our call.” He said it with the manner of a Czar, or at least a Grand Duke.
    The next day the four young sons marched in. The eldest, Vladimir, about twenty-five, sat right down on the floor of the hall and began to hug poor Nemo. Sascha, the youngest—sixteen—excused him. “Don’t get angry at my brother. He’s only a child.” Sascha already had all his father’s pompous gravity.
    His apologies were not needed. Vladimir had won the hearts of mother and son by his cordiality. They liked Mitya and Kolya, too. Mitya, a chubby fellow whose beard was beginning to grow, pressed Kitty close against his breast in spite of her scratching. The massive Kolya began tearing around the hall with Renni, and finally ran into the garden. The four Russian boys were as much at home as though they had long been intimatefriends. Mother Marie and George soon recovered from astonishment and cheerfully accepted their free and easy manners. But George had a bad time getting their names straight and knowing which was which.
    â€œDid Mama see the sick dog?” asked Vladimir, coming into the sitting-room.
    George replied, “Yes, she thinks I ought to kill him.”
    Vladimir grinned. “That’s just like Mamitschka! Her feelings are so tender, so easily touched!”
    Before mother or son could express an opinion of this sort of sympathy, Vladimir suddenly bethought himself, leaped to his feet and bowed from the hips. “Oh, I beg your pardon! Good morning!” He grinned as he spoke. “Do you really think it’s necessary to say ‘Good morning’? I don’t. Not at all. But Papitschka would certainly read me the riot act if I didn’t.” His disarming grin gave him an air of greatest innocence. There was a sort of magic attraction about him.
    Soon, with visits back and forth, a real friendship was cemented. The family had left Russia before the end of the World War and had succeeded in saving theirfortune. All the children except Vladimir had been born in foreign countries, but the Safonoffs had managed to keep their Russian birthright. Icons, samovars, bows of politeness, a readiness to confide and be close friends on short notice—everything remained truly Russian. There was a rumour that old Safonoff was a prince. He made no use of his title. The only sign of his rank was his heavy, elaborate dignity, which seemed born in him.
    George got along with them swimmingly. He couldn’t find much to say to stiff, taciturn Manya; but to make up for it he grew very friendly with the lovely Tanya, who was cheerful like