The woman, having begun talking, told them the whole story

"It is about six years since their parents died, both in one week: their father was buried on the Tuesday, and their mother died on the
Friday. These orphans were born three days after their father's death, and their mother did not live another day. My husband and I were then
living as peasants in the village. We were neighbors of theirs, our yard being next to theirs. Their father was a lonely man; a wood-cutter in
the forest. When felling trees one day, they let one fall on him. It fell across his body and crushed his bowels out. They hardly got him home
before his soul went to God; and that same week his wife gave birth to twins—these little girls. She was poor and alone; she had no one, young
or old, with her. Alone she gave them birth, and alone she met her death."

"The next morning I went to see her, but when I entered the hut, she, poor thing, was already stark and cold. In dying she had rolled on to
this child and crushed her leg. The village folk came to the hut, washed the body, laid her out, made a coffin, and buried her. They were good
folk. The babies were left alone. What was to be done with them? I was the only woman there who had a baby at the time. I was nursing my
first-born—eight weeks old. So I took them for a time. The peasants came together, and thought and thought what to do with them; and at last
they said to me: 'For the present, Mary, you had better keep the girls, and later on we will arrange what to do for them.' So I nursed the
sound one at my breast, but at first I did not feed this crippled one. I did not suppose she would live. But then I thought to myself, why
should the poor innocent suffer? I pitied her, and began to feed her. And so I fed my own boy and these two—the three of them—at my own
breast. I was young and strong, and had good food, and God gave me so much milk that at times it even overflowed. I used sometimes to feed two
at a time, while the third was waiting. When one had enough I nursed the third. And God so ordered it that these grew up, while my own was
buried before he was two years old. And I had no more children, though we prospered. Now my husband is working for the corn merchant at the
mill. The pay is good, and we are well off. But I have no children of my own, and how lonely I should be without these little girls! How can I
help loving them! They are the joy of my life!"

She pressed the lame little girl to her with one hand, while with the other she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

And Matryona sighed, and said: "The proverb is true that says, 'One may live without father or mother, but one cannot live without God.'"

So they talked together, when suddenly the whole hut was lighted up as though by summer lightning from the corner where Michael sat. They all
looked towards him and saw him sitting, his hands folded on his knees, gazing upwards and smiling.