"What more do you want of me? What are you doing here?" Makár Seménovich was silent. Aksénov raised himself, and said: "What do you want? Go away, or I will call the soldier." Makár bent down close to Aksénov, and said to him in a whisper: [Illustration: "'God will forgive you'" _Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] "Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me!" Aksénov said: "For what shall I forgive you?" "It was I who killed the merchant and put the knife into your bag. I wanted to kill you, too, but they made a noise in the yard, so I put the knife into your bag and climbed through the window." Aksénov was silent and did not know what to say. Makár Seménovich slipped down from the bed, made a low obeisance, and said: "Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me, forgive me for God's sake! I will declare that it was I who killed the merchant,--you will be forgiven. You will return home." Aksénov said: "It is easy for you to speak so, but see how I have suffered! Where shall I go now? My wife has died, my children have forgotten me. I have no place to go to--" Makár Seménovich did not get up from the floor. He struck his head against the earth, and said: "Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me! When they whipped me with the knout I felt better than now that I am looking at you. You pitied me, and did not tell on me. Forgive me, for Christ's sake! Forgive me, the accursed evil-doer!" And he burst out into tears. When Aksénov heard Makár Seménovich crying, he began to weep himself, and said: "God will forgive you. Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you!" And suddenly a load fell off from his soul. And he no longer pined for his home, and did not wish to leave the prison, but only thought of his last hour. Makár Seménovich did not listen to Aksénov, but declared his guilt. When the decision came for Aksénov to leave,--he was dead. HUNTING WORSE THAN SLAVERY We were hunting bears. My companion had a chance to shoot at a bear: he wounded him, but only in a soft spot. A little blood was left on the snow, but the bear got away. We met in the forest and began to discuss what to do: whether to go and find that bear, or to wait two or three days until the bear should lie down again. We asked the peasant bear drivers whether we could now surround the bear. An old bear driver said: "No, we must give the bear a chance to calm himself. In about five days it will be possible to surround him, but if we go after him now he will only be frightened and will not lie down." But a young bear driver disputed with the old man, and said that he could surround him now. "Over this snow," he said, "the bear cannot get away far,--he is fat. He will lie down to-day again. And if he does not, I will overtake him on snow-shoes." My companion, too, did not want to surround the bear now, and advised waiting. But I said: