He felt all the torture of his own and her position, all the difficulty there was for them, conspicuous as they were in the eye of all the world, in concealing their love, in lying and deceiving; and in lying, deceiving, feigning, and continually thinking of others, when the passion that united them was so intense that they were both oblivious of everything else but their love.

He vividly recalled all the constantly recurring instances of inevitable necessity for lying and deceit, which were so against his natural bent.

He recalled particularly vividly the shame he had more than once detected in her at this necessity for lying and deceit.

And he experienced the strange feeling that had sometimes come upon him since his secret love for Anna.

This was a feeling of loathing for something--whether for Alexey Alexandrovitch, or for himself, or for the whole world, he could not have said.