"Your protasis is not good Greek," observed the Centaur, "because in Hellas we did not make such reservations. Besides, it is not so much my origin as my destination which concerns you." "Well, friend, and whither are you going?" "To the garden between dawn and sunrise, Jurgen." "Surely, now, but that is a fine name for a garden! and it is a place I would take joy to be seeing." "Up upon my back, Jurgen, and I will take you thither," says the Centaur, and heaved to his feet. Then said the Centaur, when the pawnbroker hesitated: "Because, as you must understand, there is no other way. For this garden does not exist, and never did exist, in what men humorously called real life; so that of course only imaginary creatures such as I can enter it." "That sounds very reasonable," Jurgen estimated: "but as it happens, I am looking for my wife, whom I suspect to have been carried off by a devil, poor fellow!" And Jurgen began to explain to the Centaur what had befallen. The Centaur laughed. "It may be for that reason I am here. There is, in any event, only one remedy in this matter. Above all devils--and above all gods, they tell me, but certainly above all centaurs--is the power of Koshchei the Deathless, who made things as they are." "It is not always wholesome," Jurgen submitted, "to speak of Koshchei. It seems especially undesirable in a dark place like this." "None the less, I suspect it is to him you must go for justice." "I would prefer not doing that," said Jurgen, with unaffected candor. "You have my sympathy: but there is no question of preference where Koshchei is concerned. Do you think, for example, that I am frowzing in this underground place by my own choice? and knew your name by accident?" Jurgen was frightened, a little. "Well, well! but it is usually the deuce and all, this doing of the manly thing. How, then, can I come to Koshchei?" "Roundabout," says the Centaur. "There is never any other way." "And is the road to this garden roundabout?" "Oh, very much so, inasmuch as it circumvents both destiny and common-sense." "Needs must, then," says Jurgen: "at all events, I am willing to taste any drink once." "You will be chilled, though, traveling as you are. For you and I are going a queer way, in search of justice, over the grave of a dream and through the malice of time. So you had best put on this shirt above your other clothing." "Indeed it is a fine snug shining garment, with curious figures on it. I accept such raiment gladly. And whom shall I be thanking for his kindness, now?" "My name," said the Centaur, "is Nessus." "Well, then, friend Nessus, I am at your service."