Then the chief came to Aksénof. He knew that Aksénof was a truthful man, and he said: “Old man, you are truthful; tell me before God who did this.”
Makár was standing near, in great excitement, and did not dare to look at Aksénof.
Aksénof’s hands and lips trembled, and it was some time before he could speak a word. He said to himself: “If I shield him—But why should I forgive him when he has been my ruin? Let him suffer for my sufferings! But shall I tell on him? They will surely flog him? But what difference does it make what I think of him? Will it be any the easier for me?”
Once more the chief demanded:
“Well, old man, tell the truth! Who dug the hole?”
Aksénof glanced at Makár, and then said:
“I can not tell, your Honor. God does not bid me tell. I will not tell. Do with me as you please; I am in your power.”
In spite of all the chief’s efforts, Aksénof would say nothing more. And so they failed to find out who dug the hole.
On the next night as Aksénof was lying on his bunk, and almost asleep, he heard some one come along and sit down at his feet.
He peered through the darkness and saw that it was Makár.