He's dying of hunger," and the muzhik nodded his head towards the little boy, and burst into tears.
Elisyei shook his shoulders loose from his knapsack, unfastened it with his hand, put his knapsack on the bench, and began to undo it. He undid it, got out a loaf, a knife, cut off a big slice and gave it to the muzhik. The muzhik would not take it, but pointed at the little boy and at a little girl.
"Give to them, please," said he.
Elisyei gave of it to the lad. The little boy caught sight of the bread, stretched himself out, seized the morsel with both his poor little hands, and regularly buried his nose in it. From behind the stove the young girl crept out and asked for bread. Elisyei gave her some too. Then he cut off another piece and gave it to the old woman. The old woman took it and began to chew.
"Bring some water," said she, "our mouths have quite dried up. I would have fetched some yesterday," said she, "or was it the day before yesterday, I don't quite remember which, but I wanted to fetch water. I dragged myself out with an effort, but could not manage it; I drew up the water and then spilt it all, and fell down myself. It was as much as I could do to crawl back to the house, and there the bucket still stands if nobody has taken it away."
Elisyei asked them where their well was. The old woman explained. Elisyei went, found the bucket, and gave the people to drink. The children ate some more bread with their water, and the old woman ate some too, but the muzhik did not eat. He had not the heart for it, he said; the wife, however, did not
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