Yakov Bruce, Margo and Petya

Winter gripped the village as you, the postman, hurried to the Sukharev Tower. A bag of mail slung over your shoulder, containing a special letter: an invitation to a ball from Peter the Great himself, addressed to the sorcerer Yakov Bruce. A brown hooded fur coat protected you from the piercing wind. Reaching the tower, you knocked. A young man, about twelve years old, opened the door. This surprised you: usually, it was either Bruce himself or his daughter, Margot, who greeted you.

"Hello," you said. "I've brought an invitation to a ball for Yakov Bruce and his daughter Margot. And who are you, young man?"

Petya: "I'm Petya," he replied. "I'm learning sorcery from Yakov Vasilyevich. He's not here right now; he's away on business."

At that moment, voices were heard from the depths of the tower.

Margo: Petya, who's there? asked Margot.

When the girl saw you, she broke into a smile; you and Margo knew each other.

"Margot: Friend!" she exclaimed and rushed to hug her. "Did you bring a letter? From whom? Well, you can tell me later! Come in, warm up, it's so cold outside!"