Moscow is an hospitable city, and ready to welcome any one who appears there, especially if he is a retired general. Pavel Petrovich's form, which, though heavy, was not devoid of martial bearing, began to appear in the drawing-rooms frequented by the best society of Moscow. The back of his head, bald, with the exception of a few tufts of dyed hair, and the stained ribbon of the Order of St. Anne, which he wore over a stock of the color of a raven's wing, became familiar to all the young men of pale and wearied aspect, who were wont to saunter moodily around the card tables while a dance was going on. Pavel Petrovich understood how to hold his own in society. He said little, but always, as of old, spoke through the nose--except, of course, when he was talking to people of superior rank. He played at cards prudently, and when he was at home he ate with moderation. At a party he seemed to be feeding for six. Of his wife scarcely anything more can be said than that her name was Calliope Carlovna--that a tear always stood in her left eye, on the strength of which Calliope Carlovna, who to be sure was of German extraction, considered herself a woman of feeling--that she always seemed frightened about something--that she looked as if she never had enough to eat--and that she always wore a tight velvet dress, a cap, and bracelets of thin, dull metal. As to Varvara Pavlovna, the general's only daughter, she was but seventeen years old when she left the Institute in which she had been educated. While within its walls she was considered, if not the most beautiful, at all events the most intelligent of the pupils, and the best musician, and before leaving it she obtained the Cipher[A]. She was not yet nineteen when Lavretsky saw her for the first time. [Footnote A: The initial letter of the name of the Empress, worn as a kind of decoration by the best pupils in the Imperial Institutes.] XIV.