"God Sees the Truth, But Waits" by Leo Tolstory

When quite a young man he had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now and then.

Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on a spree."

They had some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.

Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.

Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official alighted, followed by two soldiers.

Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered: "I--don't know--not mine."

Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you!

Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir.

"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."

Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.

When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself, "It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone expect mercy."

All his mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.

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 petition the prison authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to put things right, and to judge the matter.

He would have said no more, but his companions told the newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.

He saw, in his mind, the place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his premature old age.

The thought of it all made him so wretched that he was ready to kill himself.

And his anger was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance, even if he himself should perish for it.

Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of his boots.

When they flogged me with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now...yet you had pity on me, and did not tell.