The sense of death, which had been evoked in all by his taking leave of life on the night when he had sent for his brother, was broken up.

Everyone knew that he must inevitably die soon, that he was half dead already.

Everyone wished for nothing but that he should die as soon as possible, and everyone, concealing this, gave him medicines, tried to find remedies and doctors, and deceived him and themselves and each other.

All this was falsehood, disgusting, irreverent deceit.

And owing to the bent of his character, and because he loved the dying man more than anyone else did, Levin was most painfully conscious of this deceit.