After 8 hours, they boarded a plane to Nice and ran like crazy through the gates of the orphanage.

— And Rosie isn't here, — the porter startled them.

— How is it not?

Helen nearly fainted.

— Very simple. Just yesterday, a young couple took her away.

— What were their names?

— The young man's name was Pierre.

— Ellen, don't be discouraged. I know where she is. Let's go back to Paris.

Robert and Helen flew into the jewelry store like a bullet. Pierre and Monica were serving customers, while Rosie sat on a chair and dangled her legs. She turned and saw first Robert, then Helen. Rosie jumped up from her chair and rushed to Helen with a cry of "Mother". Her defective hand, along with a healthy one, tightly hugged her mother.

— My dear girl! Now no one will ever be able to separate us, — Helen sobbed.

Many years have passed since then. In the courtyard of an orphanage in Nice, a pretty, richly dressed woman with a prosthesis on her right arm is often seen. She first gives gifts to the kids, and then she goes to the memorial tombstone and carefully lines it with flowers.

— Madam! — the gatekeeper asked her every time, — did you know this Niky and Malya well?

And every time the question hung in the air without an answer.