He could not talk to her as he would have liked to do; to remain in the same room with her, a guest among other guests, was too painful; he decided to go away.

As he took leave of her, he managed to repeat that he would come to-morrow, and added that he trusted in her friendship.
"Come," she answered with the same perplexity on her face.
Panshin brightened up at Lavretsky's departure: he began to give advice to Gedeonovsky, paid ironical attentions to Madame Byelenitsin, and at last sang his song.

But with Lisa he still spoke and looked as before, impressively and rather mournfully.
Again Lavretsky did not sleep all night.

He was not sad, he was not agitated, he was quite clam; but he could not sleep.

He did not even remember the past; he simply looked at his life; his heart beat slowly and evenly; the hours glided by; he did not even think of sleep.