They entered the house, took his valise and bag, and opened them and began to look through them. Suddenly the chief took a knife out of the bag, and cried out:
"Whose knife is this?"
Aksénov looked, and saw that they had taken out a blood-stained knife from his bag, and he was frightened "How did the blood get on the knife?"
Aksénov wanted to answer, but could not pronounce a word.
"I – I do not know – I – the knife – is not mine!"
Then the chief said:
"In the morning the merchant was found in his bed with his throat cut. No one but you could have done it. The house was locked from within, and there was no one in the house but you. Here is the bloody knife in your bag, and your face shows your guilt. Tell me, how did you kill him, and how much money did you rob him of?"
Aksénov swore that he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after drinking tea with him; that he had with him his own eight thousand; that the knife was not his. But his voice faltered, his face was pale, and he trembled from fear, as though he were guilty.
The chief called in the soldiers, told them to bind him and to take him to the cart. When he was rolled into the cart with his legs tied, he made the sign of the cross and began to cry. They took away his money and things, and sent him to jail to the nearest town. They sent to Vladímir to find out what kind of a man Aksénov was, and all the merchants and inhabitants of Vladímir testified to the fact that Aksénov had drunk and caroused when he was young, but that he was a good man. Then they began to try him. He was tried for having killed the Ryazán merchant and having robbed him of twenty thousand roubles.
The wife was grieving for her husband and did not know what to think. Her children were still young, and one was still at the breast. She took them all and went with them to the town where her husband was kept in prison. At first she was not admitted, but later she implored the authorities, and she was taken to her husband. When she saw him in prison garb and in chains, together with murderers, she fell to the ground and could not come to for a long time. Then she placed her children about her, sat down beside him, and began to tell him about house matters, and to ask him about everything which had happened. He told her everything. She said:
"What shall I do?"
He said:
"We must petition the Tsar. An innocent man cannot be allowed to perish."
His wife said that she had already petitioned the Tsar, but that the petition had not reached him. Aksénov said nothing, and only lowered his head. Then his wife said:
"You remember the dream I had about your getting gray. Indeed, you have grown gray from sorrow. If you had only not started then!"
And she looked over his hair, and said:
"Iván, my darling, tell your wife the truth: did you not do it?"
Aksénov said, "And you, too, suspect me!" and covered his face with his hands, and began to weep.
Then a soldier came, and told his wife that she must leave with her children. And Aksénov for the last time bade his family farewell.
When his wife had left, Aksénov thought about what they had been talking of. When he recalled that his wife had also suspected him and had asked him whether he had killed the merchant, he said to himself: "Evidently none but God can know the truth, and He alone must be asked, and from Him alone can I expect mercy." And from that time on Aksénov no longer handed in petitions and stopped hoping, but only prayed to God.
Aksénov was sentenced to be beaten with the knout, and to be sent to hard labour. And it was done.
He was beaten with the knout, and later, when the knout sores healed over, he was driven with other convicts to Siberia.
In Siberia, Aksénov passed twenty-six years at hard labour. His hair turned white like snow, and his beard grew long, narrow, and gray. All his mirth went away. He stooped, began to walk softly, spoke little, never laughed, and frequently prayed to God.
In the prison Aksénov learned to make boots, and with the money which he earned he bought himself the "Legends of the Holy Martyrs," and read them while it was light in the prison; on holidays he went to the prison church and read the Epistles, and sang in the choir, – his voice was still good. The authorities were fond of Aksénov for his gentleness, and his prison comrades respected him and called him "grandfather" and "God's man." When there were any requests to be made of the authorities, his comrades always sent him to speak for them, and when the convicts had any disputes between themselves, they came to Aksénov to settle them.
No one wrote Aksénov letters from his home, and he did not know whether his wife and children were alive, or not.
Once they brought some new prisoners to the prison. In the evening the old prisoners gathered around the new men, and asked them from what town they came, or from what village, and for what acts they had been sent up. Aksénov, too, sat down on the bed-boards near the new prisoners and, lowering his head, listened to what they were saying. One of the new prisoners was a tall, sound-looking old man of about sixty years of age, with a gray, clipped beard. He was telling them what he had been sent up for:
"Yes, brothers, I have come here for no crime at all. I had unhitched a driver's horse from the sleigh. I was caught. They said, 'You stole it.' And I said, 'I only wanted to get home quickly, for I let the horse go. Besides, the driver is a friend of mine. I am telling you the truth.' – 'No,' they said, 'you have stolen it.' But they did not know what I had been stealing, or where I had been stealing. There were crimes for which I ought to have been sent up long ago, but they could not convict me, and now I am here contrary to the law. 'You are lying, – you have been in Siberia, but you did not make a long visit there – '"
"Where do you come from?" asked one of the prisoners.
"I am from the city of Vladímir, a burgher of that place. My name is Makár, and by my father Seménovich."
Aksénov raised his head, and asked:
"Seménovich, have you not heard in Vladímir about the family of Merchant Aksénov? Are they alive?"
"Yes, I have heard about them! They are rich merchants, even though their father is in Siberia. He is as much a sinner as I, I think. And you, grandfather, what are you here for?"
Aksénov did not like to talk of his misfortune. He sighed, and said:
"For my sins have I passed twenty-six years at hard labour."
Makár Seménovich said:
"For what sins?"
Aksénov said, "No doubt, I deserved it," and did not wish to tell him any more; but the other prison people told the new man how Aksénov had come to be in Siberia. They told him how on the road some one had killed a merchant and had put the knife into his bag, and he thus was sentenced though he was innocent.
When Makár Seménovich heard that, he looked at Aksénov, clapped his knees with his hands, and said:
"What a marvel! What a marvel! But you have grown old, grandfather!"
He was asked what he was marvelling at, and where he had seen Aksénov, but Makár Seménovich made no reply, and only said:
"It is wonderful, boys, where we were fated to meet!"
And these words made Aksénov think that this man might know something about who had killed the merchant. He said:
"Seménovich, have you heard before this about that matter, or have we met before?"
"Of course I have heard. The earth is full of rumours. That happened a long time ago: I have forgotten what I heard," said Makár Seménovich.
"Maybe you have heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksénov.
Makár Seménovich laughed and said:
"I suppose he was killed by the man in whose bag the knife was found. Even if somebody stuck that knife into that bag, he was not caught, so he is no thief.