All that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy，and all sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the imageof his wife as she was when he parted from her to go to thefair. He saw her as if she were present； her face and her eyesrose before him； he heard her speak and laugh. Then he sawhis children， quite little， as they were at that time： one witha little cloak on， another at his mother’s breast. And then heremembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. Heremembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of theinn where he was arrested， and how free from care he hadbeen. He saw， in his mind， the place where he was flogged，the executioner， and the people standing around； the chains，the convicts， all the twenty-six years of his prison life， and hispremature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretchedthat he was ready to kill himself.
“And it’s all that villain’s doing！” thought Aksionov. And hisanger was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longedfor vengeance， even if he himself should perish for it. He keptrepeating prayers all night， but could get no peace. During theday he did not go near Makar Semyonich， nor even look athim.
A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep atnight， and was so miserable that he did not know what to do.
One night as he was walking about the prison he noticedsome earth that came rolling out from under one of the shelveson which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was.
Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf，and looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionovtried to pass without looking at him， but Makar seized his handand told him that he had dug a hole under the wall， getting ridof the earth by putting it into his high-boots， and emptying itout every day on the road when the prisoners were driven totheir work.
“Just you keep quiet， old man， and you shall get out too.
If you blab， They’ll flog the life out of me， but I will kill youfirst.”
Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy.
He drew his hand away， saying， “I have no wish to escape， andyou have no need to kill me； you killed me long ago！ As totelling of you—I may do so or not， as God shall direct.”
Next day， when the convicts were led out to work， theconvoy soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisonersemptied some earth out of his boots. The prison was searchedand the tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned allthe prisoners to find out who had dug the hole. They all deniedany knowledge of it. Those who knew would not betray MakarSemyonich， knowing he would be flogged almost to death. Atlast the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be ajust man， and said：
“You are a truthful old man； tell me， before God， who dugthe hole？”
Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned，looking at the Governor and not so much as glancing atAksionov. Aksionov’s lips and hands trembled， and for a longtime he could not utter a word. He thought， “Why should Iscreen him who ruined my life？ Let him pay for what I havesuffered. But if I tell， they will probably flog the life out ofhim， and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And， after all， whatgood would it be to me？”
“Well， old man，” repeated the Governor， “tell me the truth：
who has been digging under the wall？”
Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich， and said， “I cannotsay， your honour. It is not God’s will that I should tell！ Dowhat you like with me； I am in your hands.”
However much the Governor！ tried， Aksionov would say nomore， and so the matter had to be left.
That night， when Aksionov was lying on his bed and justbeginning to doze， some one came quietly and sat down on hisbed. He peered through the darkness and recognised Makar.
“What more do you want of me？” asked Aksionov. “Whyhave you come here？”
Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said，“What do you want？ Go away， or I will call the guard！”
Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov， and whispered，“Ivan Dmitrich， forgive me！”
“What for？” asked Aksionov.
“It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife amongyour things. I meant to kill you too， but I heard a noise outside，so I hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the window.”
Aksionov was silent， and did not know what to say. MakarSemyonich slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground.
“Ivan Dmitrich，” said he， “forgive me！ For the love ofGod， forgive me！ I will confess that it was I who killed themerchant， and you will be released and can go to your home.”
“It is easy for you to talk，” said Aksionov， “but I havesuffered for you these twenty-six years. Where could I go tonow？… My wife is dead， and my children have forgotten me. Ihave nowhere to go…”
Makar Semyonich did not rise， but beat his head on the floor.
“Ivan Dmitrich， forgive me！” he cried. “When they floggedme with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see younow… yet you had pity on me， and did not tell. For Christ’ssake forgive me， wretch that I am！” And he began to sob.
When Aksionov heard him sobbing he， too， began to weep.
“God will forgive you！” said he. “Maybe I am a hundred timesworse than you.” And at these words his heart grew light， andthe longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire toleave the prison， but only hoped for his last hour to come.
In spite of what Aksionov had said， Makar Semyonichconfessed， his guilt. But when the order for his release came，Aksionov was already dead.
