Moscow is a hospitable city, ready to welcome all stray comers, generals by preference.

Pavel Petrovitch's heavy figure, which was not quite devoid of martial dignity, however, soon began to be seen in the best drawing-rooms in Moscow.

His bald head with its tufts of dyed hair, and the soiled ribbon of the Order of St.Anne which he wore over a cravat of the colour of a raven's wing, began to be familiar to all the pale and listless young men who hang morosely about the card-tables while dancing is going on.

Pavel Petrovitch knew how to gain a footing in society; he spoke little, but from old habit, condescendingly--though, of course, not when he was talking to persons of a higher rank than his own.

He played cards carefully; ate moderately at home, but consumed enough for six at parties.