Zossimov was a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair.

He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger.

He was twenty-seven.

He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and span; his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive.

In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant.