On the next day, when they took the convicts out to work, the soldiers discovered where Makár had been digging in the ground; they began to make a search, and found the hole. The chief came into the prison and asked every one, “Who was digging that hole?” All denied it. Those who knew did not name Makár, because they were aware that he would be flogged half to death for such an attempt. 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. Aksénof asked: “What do you wish of me? What are you doing here?” Makár remained silent. Aksénof arose, and said: “What do you want? Go away, or else I will call the guard.” Makár went up close to Aksénof, and said in a whisper: “Iván Dmítritch,[8] forgive me!” Aksénof said: “What have I to forgive you?” “It was I who killed the merchant and put the knife in your bag. And I was going to kill you too, but there was a noise in the yard; I thrust the knife in your bag, and slipped out of the window.” Aksénof said nothing, and he did not know what to say. Makár got down from the bunk, knelt on the ground, and said: “Iván Dmítritch, forgive me, forgive me for Christ’s sake. I will confess that I killed the merchant--they will pardon you. You will be able to go home.” Aksénof said: “It is easy for you to say that, but how could I endure it? Where should I go now? My wife is dead! My children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go.” Makár did not rise; he beat his head on the ground, and said: “Iván Dmítritch, forgive me! When they flogged me with the knout, it was easier to bear than it is now to look at you. And you had pity on me after all this--you did not tell on me. Forgive me for Christ’s sake! Forgive me though I am a cursed villain!” And the man began to sob. When Aksénof heard Makár Semyónof sobbing, he himself burst into tears, and said: “God will forgive you; maybe I am a hundred times worse than you are!”