Another zirgouille. Uncle Maxime had never performed so many in such a short span of time. He had carried out his reverse passage... from the void back into paradise. The travelers had barely any time to dream before they were already out again.

“I’m afraid she wants my half-moon for herself,” Marilyn thought, turning by chance toward Henri. He had just answered the fabulous black woman’s question for what must have been the thousandth time. In the end, she had been nicknamed Fleur, because she was so often sent there to play that role.

Marilyn did not want to see another rival appear. Not at all. She was beginning to feel a little jealous. Though that feeling really belonged to whatever remained of hell. What troubled her most was that she no longer knew whether Henri was truly meant for her, truly promised to her.

She now had a doubt. — Had Potato Peels made a mistake? She had waited so long before daring to believe she could walk peacefully through paradise beside her companion... her half-moon! She had imagined exchanging gratitude through the Lulum. But was it all merely an illusion already dissolving?

“How could I blame her?” she thought, reflecting on the distress, the unconscious loss Fleur must be suffering. After all, had she herself not gone through something similar?

— By the way, we ought to find a solution for Fleur. If we do not help her, she may end up in serious trouble, Marilyn suggested, imagining that if Fleur could finally see clearly, it might also affect her own vision of Henri.

— Now that you mention it, Marilyn, where is she, by the way? It feels as though it’s been quite a while since she last came to question me, Henri added as he walked with Uncle Maxime beside the blonde woman.

— Could we send the demons we meet who haven’t yet been blessed to the sixth sky? added Rasputin and Calamity Jane, who had joined them. They would surely fare better there than in hell. The sixth sky can’t be all that bad, after all. Though perhaps it would be wiser to stick to the original plan.

— The sixth sky?... The sixth sky, yes, that sounds familiar. Is it not an old legend that every sensible being in paradise ought to have forgotten long ago? What am I saying?!... a very long time ago, said Uncle Maxime as he appeared.

— It was only a joke! You know very well it doesn’t exist, added Potato Peels and Guili-guili, flying in and at once joining the conversation. Still, we would have loved to see it, because it would have satisfied the eternal curiosity of both our wife and ourselves. By the way, we haven’t introduced you properly yet... Guili-guili, this is Marilyn Monroe, Henri Toutrec, Tonton Maxime, and a few half-moons whose names I’ve forgotten.

— You, Uncle, do you know anything about this legend of the sixth sky?

— The rumors that complete this legend claim that one need only blow upon the ground while digging. But that is granted solely to those endowed with an incisive understanding of the clauses. What am I saying?!... an instinctive understanding of things.

— I have it! Henri said proudly. He hurried to blow while scratching at the ground and, in no time at all, uncovered the sixth sky just below them. One by one, they peered through the opening at the ethereal layer beneath, which lay very close—barely two meters down. Then they placed a stone over the hole to block the entrance, fearing that Fleur, upon her return, might fall through it.

— How astonishing. We would never have dared believe such a thing, said the angelic couple.

Potato Peels had forgotten Henri Toutrec’s instinctive understanding of things.

Is it not said that every legend contains a kernel of truth? “Maximized” Uncle Maxime. Now, let us move on to phase two of the plan. What am I saying?!... phase two. And perhaps, with a little luck, we shall also solve Fleur’s problem... What am I saying?!... Fleur’s.