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– No thanks! Not hungry. We had such a hearty lunch here.

– And a drink?

– I will not refuse.

The waitresses quickly brought me a cutlery and a glass, and Alexander poured me red wine. He was a puny bald man with pointed features and the pretty fox face of Svana resembled his father. But the red hair – it was the color from Ingrid's mother.

– Well, tell Harutyun. As I have noticed, you have come from afar and not alone, but with a campaign.

I began to tell who we are and where we are from. Svana and her father listened attentively, but Ingrid was not, and I realized that she did not understand Russian well. The confirmation of my guess was that Alexander sometimes leaned over to her and expounded what I had already said.

– Mom understands Russian very badly.

– I already understood that.

–She’s actually Norwegian.

– So that's where you got your Norwegian name!

– But my dad is Russian, although he lived in Tallinn all his life. And his surname is Russian – Morozov.

– So you are Svana Aleksandrovna Morozova. Sounds impressive, like Grieg's melody "Morning, Peer Gyunt" mixed with Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" ballet.