“Only be silent, old man, and I’ll show you the way out. But if you tell, I’ll get a knouting, which will be the worse for you—I’ll kill you.”
When Aksenof looked at his enemy, he trembled from wrath, released his hand from Makar’s, and said:
“I have no reason for escaping, and you can’t kill me, for you’ve killed me long ago. As to telling on you, I may do it or not—as God wills it, so I shall do.”
The next day, when the convicts were sent out to work, the soldiers noticed that Makar Semenof was emptying dirt out of his boots. They searched the prison and discovered a hole. Presently the superintendent arrived and questioned every one who had dug the hole. All denied it. Those who knew would not give Makar Semenof away, because they knew that for this affair he would be knouted half to death. Then the superintendent turned to Aksenof. He knew that the exile was a just man, and so he said to him:
“Old man, I know you to be truthful; tell me, before God, who did this?”
Makar Semenof stood there as if nothing were happening, looked at the superintendent, and did not even glance at Aksenof. Aksenof, however, stood with his hands and lips all a-tremble, and for a long time he could not utter a word. He thought, “Suppose I should hide him—but why should I forgive him, when he has ruined me? Why shouldn’t I be revenged for my misery? Then, again, to tell on him would mean a knouting. But what put the thought into my head? Would it make my burden lighter to bear?”
The superintendent repeated his question:
“Now, come, old man, tell the truth: who did the digging?”
Aksenof glanced at Makar Semenof and said:
“I can’t tell, Your Honor. God forbids me to tell. And I won’t tell, do with me whatsoever you will—I’m at your mercy.”