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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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In his attitude to her there was a shade of vexation, but nothing
more. "You would not be open with me," he seemed to say, mentally
addressing her; "so much the worse for you. Now you may beg as
you please, but I won't be open with you. So much the worse for
you!" he said mentally, like a man who, after vainly attempting
to extinguish a fire, should fly in a rage with his vain efforts
and say, "Oh, very well then! you shall burn for this!" This man,
so subtle and astute in official life, did not realize all the
senselessness of such an attitude to his wife. He did not realize
it, because it was too terrible to him to realize his actual
position, and he shut down and locked and sealed up in his heart
that secret place where lay hid his feelings towards his family,
that is, his wife and son. He who had been such a careful father,
had from the end of that winter become peculiarly frigid to his
son, and adopted to him just the same bantering tone he used with
his wife.

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