He replied:
“It is necessary to send a petition to the Czar. It is wrong to let an innocent person suffer.”
To this, his wife said that a petition to the Czar had already been sent, but that it had not reached him. Thereupon Aksenof grew silent, and seemed much downcast. Then she reminded him:
“There was something, after all, in that dream—do you remember?—in which I saw you gray-headed. There, from sorrow you’ve really grown gray. You shouldn’t have gone on the journey.”
And as she ran her fingers through his hair, she said:
“Vania, my dear one, tell your wife the truth: didn’t you really do it?”
Aksenof replied, “And you too believe it!” He covered his face with his hands and wept. Later a soldier entered, and said that it was time for the visitors to depart. And Aksenof for the last time bid farewell to his family.
After his wife had gone, Aksenof began to recall his conversation with her. When he remembered that his wife too suspected him and asked him whether he had killed the merchant, he said to himself, “Now I see that, except God, no one can know the truth, and that it is only to Him we must appeal, and then await His mercy.” From that time on, Aksenof ceased to send petitions, ceased to hope, and only prayed to God.
Aksenof was sentenced to the knout and hard labor.
The sentence was carried out. He was lashed with the knout, and when the wounds healed he was driven with other convicts to Siberia.