So the devil cut him up into little bits, threw them into a cauldron, and began to brew him⁠—brewed him, washed him and collected all his bones, one by one, in the proper way, every bone with every bone, every joint with every joint, every nerve with every nerve: then he sprinkled them with the water of life, and the soldier arose, such a fine young man as no tale can tell and no pen can write. He then married the youngest Tsarévna, and they began to live a merry life of good.

I was at the wedding: I drank mead and beer. They also had wine, and I drank it to the very dregs.

But the little devil ran back into the lake, for his elder hauled him over the coals to answer for what he had done with the soldier. “He has served out his period faithfully and honourably: he has never once shaved himself, nor cut his hair, nor wiped his nose, nor changed his clothes.”