GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS by Russian author Leo Tolstoy 1872

Script
NARRATOR: In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich Aksionov.
He had two shops and a house of his own. Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed
fellow, full of fun, and very fond of singing. 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.
One summer Aksionov was going to Nizhny fair.
Aksionov: It’s already summer and I need to go to Nizhny Fair
Wife: Ivan, do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you with gray hair.
Aksionov: (laughed) You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall drink a lot.
Wife: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you
returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey."
Aksionov: (laughed) "That's a lucky sign. See if I don't sell out all my goods, and bring you
some presents from the fair.

NARRATOR: So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away. When he had travelled half-
way, he met a merchant whom he knew.

Aksionov: How are you?

Merchant: I am alright, Where are you going?

Aksionov: I am going to Nizhny fair. Let’s put up at the same inn for the night Merchant: Ok!
And let’s have some tea together.
Aksionov: It was not my habit to sleep late! And I wish to travel while it was still cool.
NARRATOR: It was not Aksionov’s habit to sleep late, and wishing to travel while it was still
cool, he arouse before dawn.

he made his way across to the landlord of the inn who lived in a cottage at the back, paid his bill.
Aksionov: I am going to paid my bills now because I need to continue my journey before dawn
Landlord: Ok Sir!

Aksionov: Thank You

NARRATOR: (When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to be fed.
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 soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to question him)

Police Officer: Who are you? Where do you came from?

Aksionov: Won't you have some tea with me?"

(But the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him.)
Police Officer: Where did you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant?
Did you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before dawn?"
NARRATOR: Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he described all
that had happened, and then added
Aksionov: Why do you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on
business of my own, and there is no need to question me."
Police Officer: I am the police-officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant
with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat cut. We must search your things."
NARRATOR: They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped
Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag)
Police oficer: There’s a knife with a blood inside your bag.
Police Officer: Whose knife is this?"

Aksionov:"How is it there is blood on this knife?"

I--don't know--not mine.

Police-officer : This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You are the
only person who could have done it. The house was locked from inside, and no one else was
there. Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me
how you killed him, and how much money you stole?"
Aksionov: I swear I had not done it; I had not seen the merchant after we had tea together; I had
no money except eight thousand rubles of my own, and that the knife was not mine.
NARRATOR: But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he
went guilty.

Police officer : Bind Aksionov and to put him in the cart.

NARRATOR: As they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksionov crossed
himself and wept. His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest
town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The merchants
and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his time,
but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant
from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles. His wife was in despair , and did not
know what to believe,and slowly began to doubt him. Her children were all quite small; one was
a baby at her breast. Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in
jail.
Wife: Sir, I am here to pay a visit to my husband. His name is Ivan Dmithri.
Police Officer: Your husband is not allowed to have visitors. I’m sorry.
Wife: Please, have mercy, Sir! Let me see him even for a bit. I am begging you. I just want to
talk to my husband. I just want to see if how he has been doing. Please, Sir.
Police Officer: You may leave now. Soldier, please escort her outside.
NARRATOR: On the next day, Aksionov’s wife came again, begging the jail officer to let him be
with her husband even for just a short time.
Police Officer: It’s you again! How many times do I have to tell you that your husband cannot
see any visitors?
Wife: Please sir.
NARRATOR: After much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to
him. When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and
criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she drew her
children to her, and sat down near him. She told him of things at home, and asked about what
had happened to him. He told her all.
Wife: What can we do now?
Aksionov: We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish.
Wife: I have sent the petition to the Czar but it had not been accepted.
NARRATOR: Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.
Wife: It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had turned grey. You remember? You should not
have started that day." (And passing her fingers through his hair, she said: )Vanya dearest, tell
your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?
Aksionov: So you, too, suspect me!
NARRATOR: Hiding his face in his hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that
the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for the last time.
Aksionov: It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and
from Him alone expect mercy.
NARRATOR: Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only prayed to God.
Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was flogged with a knot, and
when the wounds made by the knot were healed, he was driven to Siberia with other 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 looked towards all the other
prisoners respect him for his behavior. They called him "Grandfather," and "The Saint." No
news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if his wife and children were
still alive ,he wept and missed his family. One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In
the evening the old prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what towns or
villages they came from, and what they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down
near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what was said. One of the new convicts, a
tall, strong man of sixty, with a closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what he had
been arrested for.
Makar: Well, friends, 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 bought 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.
Convict : Where are you from?
Makar: From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they also call me
Semyonich.
Aksionov: Tell me, Semyonich, do you know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir?
Are they still alive?
Makar: Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their father is in Siberia: a
sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?
Aksionov: For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years.
Makar: What sins?
Aksionov: Well, well--I must have deserved it!
Convict : Someone had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and
Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.
Makar: Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful! But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!
Convict: Why do you look so surprised? Do you know him?
Makar: It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!
Aksionov: Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that affair, or maybe you've seen me before?
Makar: How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumor’s. But it's a long time ago, and I've
forgotten what I heard.
Aksionov: Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?
Makar: (laughed) It must have been him in whose bag the knife was found! If someone else hid
the knife there, he's not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How could anyone put a knife
into your bag while it was under your head? It would surely have woke you up.
NARRATOR: When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had killed
the merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly
unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his wife as she was
when he parted from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were present; her face and her
eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then he saw his children, quite little, as
they: were at that time: one with a little cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he
remembered himself as he used to be--young and merry. He remembered how he sat playing the
guitar in the porch of the inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had been. 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. A fortnight
passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and was so miserable that he did not know
what to do. One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth that came
rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it
was. Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and looked up at Aksionov with
frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at him, but Makar seized his hand and
told him that he had dug a hole under the wall, getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-
boots, and emptying it out every day on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.
Makar: Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab, they'll flog the life
out of me, but I will kill you first.
Aksionov: (trembled with anger) I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to kill me; you
killed me long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct!
NARRATOR: 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. The prison was searched and
the tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned all the prisoners to find out who had dug
the hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who knew would not betray Makar
Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death. At last the Governor turned to
Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man.

Governor: You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?
NARRATOR: Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and for a long time he could not utter a word.
He thought, "Why should I screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have suffered.
But if I tell, they will probably flog the life out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And,
after all, what good would it be to me?"
Governor: Well, old man, tell me the truth: who has been digging under the wall?
Aksionov: I cannot say, your honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like
with me; I am in your hands. However much the Governor tried, Aksionov would say no more,
and so the matter had to be left.
NARRATOR: That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to doze,
someone came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through the darkness and recognized
Makar.
Aksionov: What more do you want of me? Why have you come here? What do you want? Go
away, or I will call the guard!
Makar: Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!
Aksionov: What for?
Makar: It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things. I meant to kill
you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the
window.
NARRATOR: Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich slid off the
bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. Makar: Ivan Dmitrich! Forgive me! For the love of God,
forgive me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant, and you will be released and can
go to your home.
Aksionov: It is easy for you to talk but I have suffered for you these twenty-six years. Where
could I go to now? My wife is dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go...
NARRATOR: Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor crying.
Makar: Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me! 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. For Christ's sake forgive
me, wretch that I am! Aksionov: God will forgive you! Maybe I am a hundred times worse than
you.
NARRATOR: And at these words his heart grew light, and the longing for home left him. He no
longer had any desire to leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come. In spite of
what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed, his guilt and truly felt sorry and insisted
that Aksionov be set free so he can go back to his family. But when the order for his release
came, Aksionov was already dead.

AGBAYANI, KIETHLEEN
VILLAVERDE, SHERILYN L.