He is on his way through Russia.
And all he does is write letters to his wife:
Letter -from Father Theodore
written from Kharkov Station to his wife in the district centre of N.
My Darling Catherine Alexandrovna,
I owe you an apology.
I have left you alone, poor thing, at a time like this.
I must tell you everything.
You will understand and, I hope, agree.
It was not, of course, to join the new church movement that I went. I had no intention of doing so, God forbid!
Now read this carefully.
We shall soon begin to live differently.
You remember I told you about the candle factory.
It will be ours, and perhaps one or two other things as well.
And you won't have to cook your own meals or have boarders any more.
We'll go to Samara and hire servants.
I'm on to something, but you must keep it absolutely secret: don't even tell Marya Ivanovna.
I'm looking for treasure.
Do you remember the deceased Claudia Ivanovna, Vorobyaninov's mother-in-law?
Just before her death, Claudia Ivanovna disclosed to me that her jewels were hidden in one of the drawing-room chairs (there are twelve of them) at her house in Stargorod,
Don't think, Katey, that I'm just a common thief.
She bequeathed them to me and instructed me not to let Ippolit Matveyevich, her lifelong tormentor, get them.
That's why I left so suddenly, you poor thing.
Don't condemn me.
I went to Stargorod, and what do you think-that old woman-chaser turned up as well.
He had found out.
He must have tortured the old woman before she died.
Horrible man!
And there was some criminal travelling with him: he had hired himself a thug.
They fell upon me and tried to get rid of me.
But I'm not one to be trifled with: I didn't give in.
At first I went off on a false track.
I only found one chair in Vorobyaninov's house (it's now a home for pensioners); I was carrying the chair to my room in the Sorbonne Hotel when suddenly a man came around the corner roaring like a lion and rushed at me, seizing the chair.
We almost had a fight.
He wanted to shame me.
Then I looked closely and who was it but Vorobyaninov.
Just imagine, he had cut off his moustache and shaved his head, the crook. Shameful at his age.
We broke open the chair, but there was nothing there.
It was not until later that I realized I was on the wrong track.
But at that moment I was very distressed.
I felt outraged and I told that old libertine the truth to his face.
What a disgrace, I said, at your age.
What mad things are going on in Russia nowadays when a marshal of the nobility pounces on a minister of the church like a lion and rebukes him for not being in the Communist Party.
You're a low fellow, I said, you tormented Claudia Ivanovna and you want someone else's property-which is now state-owned and no longer his.
He was ashamed and went away-to the brothel, I imagine.
So I went back to my room in the Sorbonne and started to make plans.
I thought of something that bald-headed fool would never have dreamed of.
I decided to find the person who had distributed the requisitioned furniture.
So you see, Katey, I did well to study law at college: it has served me well.
I found the person in question the next day.