Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to themines. So he was flogged with a knot， and when the woundsmade by the knot were healed， he was driven to Siberia withother convicts.
For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia.
His hair turned white as snow， and his beard grew long， thin，and grey. All his mirth went； he stooped； he walked slowly，spoke little， and never laughed， but he often prayed.
In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots， and earned a littlemoney， with which he bought The Lives of the Saints. He readthis book when there was light enough in the prison； and onSundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang inthe choir； for his voice was still good.
The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness，and his fellow-prisoners respected him： they called him“Grandfather，” and “The Saint.” When they wanted to petitionthe prison authorities about anything， they always madeAksionov their spokesman， and when there were quarrelsamong the prisoners they came to him to put things right， andto judge the matter.
No news reached Aksionov from his home， and he did noteven know if his wife and children were still alive.
One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In theevening the old prisoners collected round the new ones andasked them what towns or villages they came from， and whatthey were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat downnear the newcomers， and listened with downcast air to whatwas said.
One of the new convicts， a tall， strong man of sixty， with aclosely-cropped grey beard， was telling the others what be hadbeen arrested for.
“Well， friends，” he said， “I only took a horse that was tiedto a sledge， and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I saidI had only taken it to get home quicker， and had then let it go；besides， the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said，‘It’s all right.’ ‘No，’ said they， ‘you stole it.’ But how or whereI stole it they could not say. I once really did something wrong，and ought by rights to have come here long ago， but that timeI was not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothingat all… Eh， but it’s lies I’m telling you； I’ve been to Siberiabefore， but I did not stay long.”
“Where are you from？” asked some one.
“From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name isMakar， and they also call me Semyonich.”
Aksionov raised his head and said： “Tell me， Semyonich， doyou know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir？
Are they still alive？”
“Know them？ Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich，though their father is in Siberia： a sinner like ourselves， itseems！ As for you， Gran’dad， how did you come here？”
Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He onlysighed， and said， “For my sins I have been in prison thesetwenty-six years.”
“What sins？” asked Makar Semyonich.
But Aksionov only said， “Well， well—I must have deservedit！” He would have said no more， but his companions toldthe newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia； howsome one had killed a merchant， and had put the knifeamong Aksionov’s things， and Aksionov had been unjustlycondemned.
When Makar Semyonich heard this， he looked at Aksionov，slapped hisown knee， and exclaimed， “Well， this is wonderful！
Really wonderful！ But how old you’ve grown， Gran’dad！”
The others asked him why he was so surprised， and wherehe had seen Aksionov before； but Makar Semyonich did notreply. He only said：
“It’s wonderful that we should meet here， lads！”
These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knewwho had killed the merchant； so he said， “Perhaps， Semyonich，you have heard of that affair， or maybe you’ve seen mebefore？”
“How could I help hearing？ The world’s full of rumours. Butit’s a long time ago， and I’ve forgotten what I heard.”
“Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant？” askedAksionov.
Makar Semyonich laughed， and replied： “It must have beenhim in whose bag the knife was found！ If some one else hidthe knife there， ‘He’s not a thief till he’s caught，’ as the sayingis. How could any one put a knife into your bag while it wasunder your head？ It would surely have woke you up.”
When Aksionov heard these words， he felt sure this was theman who had killed the merchant. He rose and went away.