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Updated: May 22, 2025
"In one of the descriptions of Koshchei's death, he is said to be killed by a blow on the forehead inflicted by the mysterious egg that last link in the magic chain by which his life is darkly bound.
Afterwards the Prince heaped up a pile of wood, set fire to it, burnt Koshchei the Deathless on the pyre, and scattered his ashes to the wind. Then Marya Morevna mounted Koshchei's horse and Prince Ivan got on his own, and they rode away to visit first the Raven, and then the Eagle, and then the Falcon. Wherever they went they met with a joyful greeting.
Dame Lisa went with dignity to the door of Koshchei's office. "So you can come with me or not, precisely as you elect. It is all one to me, I can assure you, after the cruel things you have said, and the way you have stormed at me, and have encouraged that notorious blackamoor to insult me in terms which I, for one, would not soil my lips by repeating.
"Now truly is my dear wife lost to me, for never can I recover the egg from the river." Hardly had he spoken when the fish he had thrown back into the river appeared, bearing the egg in its mouth. Now Ivan's grief was turned to rejoicing. He broke the egg and took out the needle. Then, with the little ball to lead him, he soon made his way to Koshchei's palace.
You would have me believe that men, that all men who have ever lived or shall ever live hereafter, that even I am of no importance! Why, there would be no justice in any such arrangement, no justice anywhere!" "That vexed you, did it not? It vexes me at times, even me, who under Koshchei's will alone am changeless."
From room to room he went, and in the deepest dungeon he found the Princess Vasilisa, his own dear wife. She threw herself into his arms, weeping with joy. Then they went to Koshchei's treasure room and took from it all the most precious jewels, all that the faithful bear could carry they loaded upon his back and carried away with them.
How should I? But I think that all of us take part in a moving and a shifting and a reasoned using of the things which are Koshchei's, a using such as we do not comprehend, and are not fit to comprehend." "That is possible," said Jurgen: "but, none the less !"
Why, Koshchei, who made all things as they are Koshchei, no less was now doing for Jurgen Koshchei's utmost: and that utmost amounted to getting for Jurgen what Jurgen had once, with the aid of youth and impudence, got for himself.
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