Sergei Sergeyevich's face grew kinder and softened and a wrinkle furrowed his brow. A compassionate expression appeared. But Sergei Sergeyevich had only a vague picture of how he should act: whether to let the tears flow and then endure a scene and accusations of coldness, or whether to go cautiously down on his knees before Sofia Petrovna, lift her little head from the muff with a gentle hand, embrace her, and cover her with kisses. He was afraid of seeing a hint of contempt or boredom on her face, so he chose the middle way: he simply tapped her trembling shoulder:

"Come, come Sonya... please stop.. my dear little girl."
"Oh, leave me alone, leave me alone!"
"What's wrong? Let's talk about it!"
"Leave me alone, leave me alone! You're... cold-blooded."

Sergei Sergeyevich stepped back from his wife, stood there a moment, and sank into an armchair beside her.

"Ahh! To abandon your wife this way!... Always in charge of provisions out there! Always away! And to know nothing!..."
"Sonya, my dear, you're mistaken if you think I don't know. But.. don't you see!"
"Oh, please leave me alone!"

"Don't you see, my dear: since that time that... I moved out of our room into this one.. In a word, I have my pride, and I don't wish to place restraints on your freedom... I understand you. I know very well it's not easy for you. ...I have my hopes that sometime again.. But I won't insist, I won't insist! Now do try to understand me. My distance, my cool composure, so to speak, aren't the result of coldness at all... But I won't insist, I won't insist!"

----
Andrey Bely, Petersburg, Chapter the Third - A Mad Dog Yelped (tr. Cournos)