“Barley might be sown, waited for till ripe, harvested, threshed, and beer made of it; we might drink the beer, sleep after drinking, then pursue and catch them.”
Koshchéi galloped on, rode up, overtook Ivan Tsarevich. “But I have said that thou canst no more see Marya Morevna than look at thy own ears.” He took her away and led her home.
Ivan Tsarevich remained alone; he cried and cried, and went back for Marya Morevna. That time Koshchéi was not at home.
“Let us go, Marya Morevna.”
“Ah! Ivan Tsarevich, he will come up with us, will hew thee to pieces.”
“Let him hew me; I cannot live without thee.” They made ready and started.
Koshchéi Without-Death was coming home; his good steed stumbled under him. “Why dost thou stumble, hungry crowbait; or feelest thou evil?”
“Ivan Tsarevich came, and took Marya Morevna away.”
Koshchéi galloped on, caught up with Ivan Tsarevich, hewed him into small pieces, put him in a pitched barrel, took that barrel, strengthened it with iron hoops, and cast it into the blue sea. Marya Morevna he took home.
Now the silver grew black at the houses of Ivan Tsarevich’s brothers-in-law. “Oh,” said they, “it is clear that some evil has happened!”