All that spring he was not himself, and went through fearful

moments of horror.

"Without knowing what I am and why I am here, life's impossible;

and that I can't know, and so I can't live," Levin said to

himself.

"In infinite time, in infinite matter, in infinite space, is

formed a bubble-organism, and that bubble lasts a while and

bursts, and that bubble is Me."

It was an agonizing error, but it was the sole logical result of

ages of human thought in that direction.

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This was the ultimate belief on which all the systems elaborated

by human thought in almost all their ramifications rested. It

was the prevalent conviction, and of all other explanations Levin

had unconsciously, not knowing when or how, chosen it, as anyway

the clearest, and made it his own.

But it was not merely a falsehood, it was the cruel jeer of some

wicked power, some evil, hateful power, to whom one could not

submit.

He must escape from this power. And the means of escape every

man had in his own hands. He had but to cut short this

dependence on evil. And there was one means--death.

And Levin, a happy father and husband, in perfect health, was

several times so near suicide that he hid the cord that he might

not be tempted to hang himself, and was afraid to go out with his

gun for fear of shooting himself.

But Levin did not shoot himself, and did not hang himself; he

went on living.




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