ecame aware of it, and proceeded to cleanse his soul of all
the accumulated filth that caused this standstill.

After such awakenings Nekhludoff always laid down some rules for
himself which he intended to follow all the rest of his life; kept a
diary and began a new life, which he hoped he should never change
again--"turning a new leaf," he used to call it. But the temptations
of life entrapped him anew, after every awakening, and, without
knowing it, he sank again, often to a lower depth than he was in
before.

Thus he cleansed himself and revived several times. His first
cleansing happened when he visited his aunts. That was the brightest
and most enthusiastic awakening. And it lasted a long time. The next
happened when he left the civil service, and, desiring to sacrifice
his life, he entered, during the war, the military service. Here he
began to sink quickly. The next awakening occurred when he retired
from the military service, and, going abroad, gave himself up to
painting.

From that day to this there was a long period of uncleanliness, the
longest he had gone through yet, and, therefore, he had never sunk so
deep, and never before was there such discord between the demands of
his conscience and the life which he was leading. So, when he saw the
chasm which separated the two, he was horrified.

The discord was so great, the defilement so thorough, that at first he
despaired of the possibility of a complete cleansing. "Why, you have
tried to improve before, and failed," the tempter in his soul
whispered. "What is the good of trying again? You are not the only
one--all are alike. Such is life." But the free, spiritual being which
alone is true, alone powerful, alone eternal, was already awake in
Nekhludoff. And he could not help believing it. However great the
difference between that which he was and that which he wished to be,
for the awakened spiritual being everything was possible.

"I shall break this lie that binds me at any cost. I will confess the
truth to everybody, and will act the truth," he said aloud,
resolutely. "I will tell Missy the truth--that I am a profligate and
cannot marry her; that I have trifled with her. I will tell Maria
Vasilevna (the wife of the marshal of nobility)--but no, what is the
good of telling her? I will tell her husband that I am a scoundrel,
that I have deceived him. I will dispose of my inheritance in
accordance with the demands of justice. I will tell her, Katiousha,