none of us, can live in any other way. But Feodor says, too, that it is wrong to live for the belly, but that we should live for truth, for God; and I know what that means as well. I, and millions of men, muzhiks, and sages who have thought and written on the subject, or in their obscure language have talked about it, in the past and in the present, — we are in accord on one point; and that is, that we should live for 'the good.' The only knowledge that I and all men possess that is clear, indubitable, absolute, is here. We have not reached it by reason. Reason excludes it, for it has neither cause nor effect. 'The good,' if it had a cause, would cease to be the good ; if it had an effect, — a reward, — it would cease to be the good. The good must be outside of the chain of cause and effect. And I know this, and we all know it. Can there be greater miracle than this?
"Have I really found the solution of my doubts? Shall I cease to suffer?" Levin asked himself as he followed the dusty road, insensible to weariness and heat, and feeling that his long travail was at an end. The sensation was so delightful, that he could not believe that it was true. He choked with emotion; his strength failed him; and he left the highroad, and went into the woods, and sat down under the shadow of an aspen on the unmown grass. He uncovered his moist forehead, and stretched himself out on the succulent wood-grass, and leaned his head on his hand.
"Yes, I must reflect and consider," he thought, looking attentively at the untrodden grass in front of him, and watching the movements of an earth-beetle crawling up the stalk of couch-grass, and stopped by a leaf. "What discovery have I made?" he said to himself, removing the leaf from the beetle's way, and bending down another stalk of couch-grass to help the beetle on. "What makes me so happy? What discovery have I made?"
"I have made no discovery. I have only opened my eyes to what I already know. I have learned to recognize that power which formerly gave me life, and gives
