Across a stream and up a steep hill is Ms. Foster’s Victorian cottage. With lavender blush white petunias in a window box and lace curtains, it is clean as a summer cloud.

He appears in a wood - paneled room in Kucherena's dacha, a modest, foreign - looking space, with little to see except a vase of flowers and some curtains in the background.

But all the windows and screen doors of those villas are locked. I guess, the rich probably are not accustomed to the chill winter in the countryside, and all have flocked to the bustling city.