n 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.

The Spartan's legs trembled when Mikhalevich led him into the
Korobines' not over-well furnished drawing-room, and introduced him to
its occupants. But he overcame his timidity, and soon disappeared. In
General Korobine that kindliness which is common to all Russians, was
enhanced by the special affability which is peculiar to all persons
whose fair fame has been a little soiled. As for the General's wife,
she soon became as it were ignored by the whole party. But Varvara
Pavlona was so calmly, so composedly gracious, that no one could be,
even for a moment, in her presence without feeling himself at his
ease. And at the same time from all her charming form, from her
smiling eyes, from her faultlessly sloping shoulders, from the
rose-tinged whiteness of her hands, from her elastic, but at the same
time as it were, irresolute gait, from the very sound of her sweet and
languorous voice--there breathed, like a delicate perfume, a subtle
and incomprehensible charm--something which was at once tender and
voluptuous and modest--something which it was difficult to express
in words, which stirred the imagination and disturbed the mind, but
disturbed it with sensations which were not akin to timidity.

Lavretsky introduced the subject of the theatre and the preceding
night's performance; she immediately began to talk about Mochalof
of her own accord, and did not confine herself to mere sighs and
exclamations, but pronounced several criticisms on his acting, which
were as remarkable for sound judgment as for womanly penetration.
Mikhalevich mentioned music; she sat down to the piano without
affectation, and played with precision several of Chopin's mazurkas,
which were then