In the midst of the conversation, Fedor Petrovich glanced at Ivan Ilych and became silent. The others also looked at him and grew silent.
Ivan Ilych was staring with glittering eyes straight before him, evidently indignant with them.
This had to be rectified, but it was impossible to do so.
The silence had to be broken, but for a time no one dared to break it and they all became afraid that the conventional deception would suddenly become obvious and the truth becomes plain to all.
Lisa was the first to pluck up courage and break that silence, but by trying to hide what everybody was feeling, she betrayed it.
Well, if we are going it’s time to start,
she said, looking at her watch, a present from her father, and with a faint and significant smile at Fedor Petrovich relating to something known only to them.
She got up with a rustle of her dress.
They all rose, said good-night, and went away.
When they had gone it seemed to Ivan Ilych that he felt better; the falsity had gone with them.
But the pain remained—that same pain and that same fear that made everything monotonously alike, nothing harder and nothing easier.
Everything was worse.