“Well, friends,” he said, “I only took a horse that was tied to a sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I 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 where I stole it they could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by rights to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all.⁠ ⁠… Eh, but it’s lies I’m telling you; I’ve been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long.”

“Where are you from?” asked someone.

“From Vladímir. My family are of that town. My name is Makár, and they also call me Semyónitch.”

Aksyónof raised his head and said: “Tell me, Semyónitch, do you know anything of the merchants Aksyónof, of Vladímir? Are they still alive?”