summer’s
noon
And so she talked to Nejdanov , doing everything she could to bring him to her feet . She allowed him to come near her , she revealed herself to him , as it were , and with a sweet curiosity , with a half-maternal tenderness , she watched this handsome , interesting , stern radical softening towards her quietly and awkwardly . A day , an hour , a minute later and all this would have vanished without leaving a trace , but for the time being it was pleasant , amusing , rather pathetic , and even a little sad . Forgetting his origin , and knowing that such interest is always appreciated by lonely people happening to fall among strangers , she began questioning him about his youth , about his family ... But guessing from his curt replies that she had made a mistake , Valentina Mihailovna tried to smooth things over and began to unfold herself still more before him , as a rose unfolds its fragrant petals on a hot summer 's noon , closing them again tightly at the first approach of the evening coolness . She could not fully smooth over her blunder , however . Having been touched on a sensitive spot , Nejdanov could not regain his former confidence . That bitterness which he always carried , always felt at the bottom of his heart , stirred again , awakening all his democratic suspicions and reproaches .