ht or talk about it.

Reasoning had brought him to doubt, and prevented him from seeing
what he ought to do and what he ought not. When he did not
think, but simply lived, he was continually aware of the presence
of an infallible judge in his soul, determining which of two
possible courses of action was the better and which was the
worse, and as soon as he did not act rightly, he was at once
aware of it.

So he lived, not knowing and not seeing any chance of knowing
what he was and what he was living for, and harassed at this lack
of knowledge to such a point that he was afraid of suicide, and
yet firmly laying down his own individual definite path in life.

Chapter 11

The day on which Sergey Ivanovitch came to Pokrovskoe was one of
Levin's most painful days. It was the very busiest working time,
when all the peasantry show an extraordinary intensity of
self-sacrifice in labor, such as is never shown in any other
conditions of life, and would be highly esteemed if the men who
showed these qualities themselves thought highly of them, and if
it were not repeated every year, and if the results of this
intense labor were not so simple.

To reap and bind the rye and oats and to carry it, to mow the
meadows, turn over the fallows, thrash the seed and sow the
winter corn--all this seems so simple and ordinary; but to
succeed in getting through it all everyone in the village, from
the old man to the young child, must toil incessantly for three
or four weeks, three times as hard as usual, living on rye-beer,
onions, and black bread, thrashing and carrying the sheaves at
night, and not giving more than two or three hours in the
twenty-four to sleep. And every year this is done all over
Russia.

Having lived the greater part of his life in the country and in
the closest relations with the peasants, Levin always felt in
this busy time that he was infected by this general quickening of
energy in the people.

In the early morning he rode over to the first sowing of the rye,
and to the oats, which were being carried to the stacks, and
returning home at the time his wife and sister-in-law were
getting up, he drank coffee with them and walked to the farm,
where a new thrashing machine was to be set working to get ready
the seed-corn.

He was standing in the cool granary, still fragrant with the
leaves of the hazel branches interlaced on the freshly peeled
aspen beams of the new thatch roof. He gazed through the