"Ah, yes," said Koshchei, who made things as they are; "ah, yes, to be sure! and how did you learn of this?"
"Why, every Sunday morning the priest discoursed to us about Heaven, and of how happy we would be there after death."
"Has this woman died, then?" asked Koshchei.
"Yes, sir," they told him,—"recently. And she will believe nothing we explain to her, but demands to be taken to Heaven."
"Now, this is very vexing," Koshchei said, "and I cannot, of course, put up with such scepticism. That would never do. So why do you not convey her to this Heaven which she believes in, and thus put an end to the matter?"
"But, sir," they told him, "there is no such place."
Then Koshchei reflected. "It is certainly strange that a place which does not exist should be a matter of public knowledge in another place. Where does this woman come from?"
"From Earth," they told him.
"Where is that?" he asked: and they explained to him as well as they could.
"Oh, yes, over that way," Koshchei interrupted. "I remember.
Now—but what is your name, woman who wish to go to Heaven?"