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纳尼亚传奇5：黎明踏浪号|The Voyage of the Dawn Tread

第十章 魔法师的书|CHAPTER TEN:THE MAGICIAN’S BOOK

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 -[作者: 路易斯] 阅读：[2832]
纳尼亚传奇3
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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隐形人盛情款待了他们的客人。看着盘碟上了桌子，却不见有人端着，真是太有趣了。你一定会觉得隐形的手端盘子一定是水平地往前移，即便只是这样也够有趣的了。可情况不是这样的。大大小小的盘子是蹦蹦跳跳地沿着长长的餐厅前进。盘子每跳一下，就蹦到离地十五英尺高的地方，接着又开始往下掉，突然停在离地大约三英尺的地方。要是盘子里装着汤或者炖菜，那可就糟糕了。

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“我对这些人开始好奇了，”尤斯塔斯低声对艾德蒙说，“你觉得他们到底是不是人类？在我看来，他们倒更像是大蚱蜢或者大青蛙。”

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“看起来真是这样。”艾德蒙说，“但是不要跟露西提蚱蜢什么的。她不太喜欢昆虫，尤其是大昆虫。”

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要是这顿饭没那么混乱，或者对话不总是意见一致，那就会好多了。那些隐形人对什么事都意见一致。而且他们说的总是一些显而易见的事儿，比如：“我总是说，要是一个人饿了，就会想吃点儿食物。”或者是：“天要黑了，一到晚上总是要天黑。”甚至会说：“你们从海上过来。海水是湿湿的吧？”露西正好可以从座位上看见通往楼梯口的漆黑走道，她忍不住往那里看，心里想着明天早晨走上楼梯会看见什么。不过从其他方面来说，这顿饭也还不错。有蘑菇汤、煮鸡、煮火腿、鹅莓、红醋栗、凝乳、奶油、牛奶和蜂蜜酒。其他人都喜欢蜂蜜酒，但尤斯塔斯事后很后悔自己喝了酒。

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第二天早晨露西醒来时，心情就像准备去考试或者看牙医似的。这是一个美好的早晨，蜜蜂在她的窗边嗡嗡作响，草坪看起来很像英格兰的某个地方。她起床穿衣，尽量像平时一样吃早餐、说话。吃完早餐，“头儿”告诉她应该上楼做些什么。于是，她向其他人告别，什么话也没说，走到楼梯口，头也不回地上楼了。

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幸好，楼梯上很亮。因为第一段楼梯上面就有一扇窗户对着她。她走在那段楼梯上，一直能听到楼下大厅里一个老式立钟发出的嘀嗒声。她走到了楼梯间的平台上，左转走上了第二段楼梯。在那之后，她再也听不见钟的声音了。

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她到了楼上。只见一条又长又宽的走廊，另一头远远地有一扇大窗户。显然，这条走廊贯穿了整座房子。走廊上有雕花，镶着木板，还铺着地毯，两边开了很多扇门。她一动不动地站着，这里听不见老鼠的吱吱声，听不见苍蝇的嗡嗡声，也听不见窗帘晃动的声音，什么声音都没有——只听见她自己怦怦的心跳声。

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“左边最后一个门。”她对自己说。要走到最后一扇门确实有点儿难。要走到那里，她得经过一个又一个的房间。魔法师可能在其中的任何一间屋子里，他有可能睡着，也有可能醒着，或者是隐身的，甚至可能已经死了。但是她不能再想这种事了。她开始艰难地前进。地毯特别厚，她走在上面悄无声息。

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“现在还没什么好怕的。”露西告诉自己。这条走廊十分静谧，洒满了阳光，不过有点儿太安静了。要是门上没有涂着深红色的奇怪标志就好了。那些标志歪歪扭扭的，看上去很复杂，显然有什么意义，而且很可能不是什么好的含义。要是墙上没有挂着那些面具，那也会好一些。说起来那些面具也不丑——或者说没那么丑——但是那些空空的眼窝看起来确实有点儿瘆人。要是你任由自己想象，你很快就会想，只要你转身背对着这些面具，它们就会做些什么事。

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大概走过了六扇门之后，她真被吓了一大跳。那一瞬间，她几乎可以肯定，有一张长着胡子的邪恶小脸从墙上冒出来，对她做了个鬼脸。她逼自己停下来看看。那根本不是一张脸，而是一面小镜子，大小和形状都正好和她的脸差不多。镜子上面盖着头发，下面垂着胡须。所以你照镜子的时候，那头发和胡子就像长在你脸上一样。“我走过去的时候恰好用余光扫到了镜子里的自己，”露西自言自语道，“原来就是这么回事。这也没什么嘛。”但是她不喜欢自己的脸配上那头发和胡子的样子，于是继续往前走。（我不是魔法师，所以不知道带胡子的镜子是用来做什么的。）

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露西还没走到左边的最后一扇门，就开始怀疑，她往前走的时候，这条走廊是不是变长了，这是不是也是房子的魔法。不过，她最终还是走进了那扇门。门是开着的。

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那是一个很大的房间，有三面大窗户，书从地板上一直摞到了天花板。露西从来没见过这么多书，有小巧的，有笨重的，还有比你见过的任何教堂的《圣经》都要大的。这些书都是皮面精装的，闻起来就有一种古老、博学的味道，而且还带着魔法气质。但是之前已经有人告诉她了，她不用操心这些书。因为那本书，那本魔法书，就在房间正中的一张书桌上。她知道她得站着读（反正那里没有椅子），而且她读的时候还得背对着门。于是她马上转身去关门。

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但是这门关不上。

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有些人可能觉得露西不该去关门，但我觉得她这么做是对的。她说，如果她能关上门，她就不会担心了，但要站在这样一个地方，还要背对着一扇敞开的门，心里就会发毛。要是我肯定也会有这种感觉。但是没有办法。

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还有一件事让她伤透了脑筋，那就是这本书太大了。那个“头儿”没告诉她，那个让人现形的咒语在书里的哪个位置。她问起来的时候，他甚至感到非常惊讶。他想让她从头开始看，直到找到那个咒语为止。显然他从来没有想过用其他方法从书里找到这个咒语。“我可能得花上几天甚至几个礼拜才能找到！”露西看着那本巨大的书说，“我觉得我好像已经在这个地方待了好几个小时了。”

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她走到书桌前，把手放在书上。她的手指刚碰到书就一阵刺痛，好像这本书带电似的。她用力去翻书，但是一开始打不开。不过，这仅仅是因为它被两个铅扣给扣住了，她一解开铅扣，书很容易就被打开了。这本书真是太奇怪了！

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这本书是手写本，不是印刷本。书上字迹清晰，笔法匀称，向下的笔画厚重有力，向上的笔画轻描淡写。字体很大，比印刷的看起来更舒服。因为太好看了，露西盯着它看了整整一分钟，忘记读了。纸张又脆又滑，散发着一股香味。页边的空白处和每个咒语开头的彩色大写字母旁边，都配上了图片。

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这本书没有扉页，也没有书名，开头就是咒语。前面的几条都无关紧要，有治疗疣子的（在月光下用银盆洗手），有治牙痛和抽筋的，还有一个捕捉蜂群的咒语。那个牙痛的人的图片是如此逼真，要是你盯着看的时候太长了，自己的牙齿也会疼起来。第四个咒语周围点缀着金色的蜜蜂，看起来就像是真的在飞。

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露西看第一页看得入迷了，但是等她翻过一页，发现第二页也同样有趣。“但我必须得往下翻。”她告诉自己。她继续翻看了三十页左右，如果她记得住的话，就可以学会如何找到宝藏，如何记起忘记了的事情，如何忘记想忘记的事情，如何判断一个人是不是在说真话，如何召唤（或驱散）风、雾、雪、冰雹和雨，如何用魔法催眠和如何让人变笨。她读得越久，照片就越精彩，越逼真。

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然后她翻到一页，那上面的图画如此绚丽，几乎叫人没法注意到上面的字。但她还是注意到了开头的那些话。这样写道：美貌超群绝伦灵方。露西把脸贴近那页纸，盯着上面的图画。那些图画原本看起来拥挤不堪，模糊不清，但是她发现她现在可以看得很清楚了。第一张图是一个女孩站在书桌前读着一本巨大的书。那个女孩穿得和露西一模一样。在下一张图里，露西（图画中的女孩就是露西自己）站着，张着嘴吟诵着什么，脸上的表情很可怕。在第三幅画中，那个获得了绝世美貌的女子向她走来。奇怪的是，原本这些图画都很小，但是图片里的露西现在看起来和真正的露西一样大了。她们互相对视了一会儿，真正的露西就把目光移开了，因为那个露西的美貌让她目眩神迷，不过她还是能在那张漂亮的脸上看到自己的影子。这会儿，所有的图画都朝她一窝蜂拥过来。她看见自己在卡罗门的比武大会上坐在高高的宝座之上，世界上所有的国王都为她的美貌而战。接着，比武大会变成了真的战争，纳尼亚、阿钦兰、台尔马、卡罗门、加尔马和泰瑞宾西亚都生灵涂炭，一片荒芜，这些国家的国王、公爵和贵族们都为赢得她的青睐而大打出手。然后画面突然变了，露西回到了英国，她仍旧是一个绝世美人。苏珊也从美国回来了，她曾经一直是家里最漂亮的一个。画中的苏珊看上去和真的苏珊完全一样，只是表情很难看。苏珊嫉妒露西令人目眩神迷的美貌，但这一点儿也不重要，因为现在没有人在乎苏珊了。

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“我要念这句咒语，”露西说，“我不管。我一定要念。”她说她不管，是因为有一种强烈的感觉告诉她不能这么做。

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但是，当她回去看咒语的开头时，发现原本只有字的地方出现了一张巨大的狮子脸，阿斯兰正凝视着她。画中的他金光闪闪，仿佛正从书页中向她走来。事实上，她也不确定他是不是真的没动。无论如何，她知道他脸上的表情是什么意思。他咆哮着，露出了锋利的牙齿。她害怕极了，马上翻过了那一页。

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过了一会儿，她又看见了一个咒语，可以让人知道朋友对自己的看法。其实露西非常想试试刚才那个让人变得美艳绝伦的咒语。所以她觉得为了弥补刚刚没有念那条咒语，她一定要念这一条。她急急忙忙地念了咒语（我绝不会告诉你们咒语的内容），因为她怕自己又改变主意。然后她就等着看有什么事情发生。

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结果什么也没发生，她就开始看这些图画。突然，她看到了她想都没想到过的画面——一辆火车的三等车厢里坐着两个女学生。她马上就认出了她们。她们是马乔里·普雷斯顿和安妮·费瑟斯通。不过这不仅仅是一幅画。画面在动。她能看到窗外的电线杆飞驰而过。然后她渐渐听到了她们的对话（就像打开了收音机一样）。

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“这学期我可以经常和你待在一起吗？”安妮说，“还是说你还要继续和露西·佩文西一起鬼混。”

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“你说鬼混是什么意思。”马乔里说。

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“哦，你知道是什么意思，”安妮说，“上个学期你对她很上心呢。”

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“不，我没有，”马乔里说，“我可没那么傻。她倒不是个坏孩子。但学期结束之前我对她就已经很厌倦了。”

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“好吧，无论哪个学期你都再也不会有这个机会了！”露西喊道，“当面一套背后一套的坏蛋！”但她的声音让她马上意识到，她正在和一幅画说话，而真正的马乔里远在另一个世界。

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“哼，”露西自言自语地说，“我之前不知道她这么坏。上个学期我为她做了各种各样的事情，在其他女孩不愿意和她一块儿的时候，我一直和她在一起。她也知道这一点。她却偏偏去找安妮·费瑟斯通！我不知道我的朋友们是不是都一个样？还有很多其他的图画。我不看了。我不看，我不看。”她努力地翻过那一页，但一大滴愤怒的眼泪猝不及防地落在了书页上。

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在下一页她看到一个咒语，上面写着“用以提神”。这里的画更少，但很漂亮。露西发现自己读的更像是一个故事，而不是咒语。这个故事足足有三页，她还没读完这一页，就已经忘记自己在读书了。她沉浸在这个故事里，好像这是真的，所有的图画也仿佛都是真的。当她读到第三页故事结束的地方，她说道：“这是我读过的最可爱的故事。哦，我真希望我能一直读下去，读上个十年。至少我要再读一遍。”

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但这时，这本书的一些魔法开始起作用了。这本书没法往回翻。右边的书页，也就是后边的书页可以往前翻动，但是左边的书页翻不动。

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“啊呀，太可惜了！”露西说，“我好想再读一遍呀。好吧，至少我得把它记住。让我想想……这个故事写的是……是……天哪，这些东西又开始消失了。连最后一页都变成空白了。这本书真是太奇怪了。我怎么忘记了呢？这个故事里有一个杯子、一把剑、一棵树、一座青山，我只知道这么多了。但是我记不起来了，怎么办呀？”

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她永远也记不起来了。从那以后，要是露西说一个故事是好故事，那这个故事一定是让她想起了她记不起来的这个魔法书里的故事。

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她继续往下翻，惊奇地发现有一页根本没有图画，不过开头的字句倒写着：隐形事物现形法。她先看了一遍，把难认的字仔细确认了一遍，然后大声念了出来。她一念出来，就知道这咒语开始起作用了，因为她念的时候，书页顶部的大写字母就开始有颜色了，空白的地方也开始出现图画了。就像用隐形的墨水写字，然后放在火上烤，字就会渐渐出现。只是这不像柠檬汁（这是最原始的隐形墨水）那种暗黑色，而是纯金的、碧蓝的和鲜红的颜色。这些图画古怪得很，里面有许多人物的样子露西都不大喜欢。于是她心想：“我大概不只让那些隐身人现形了，应该是让所有的东西都现形了。这个地方一定有很多其他隐形的东西在晃来晃去呢。我还不确定是否想看到他们呢。”

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就在这时，她听到身后一阵轻柔而有力的脚步声，沿着走廊传过来。当然，她还记得他们告诉她，魔法师光着脚，走起路来跟猫一样没有声音。转过身去总比有什么东西在你身后偷偷摸摸的好。露西转过了身。

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接着她的脸上露出了笑容，一时间（当然她不知道），她看上去几乎和那个画里的露西一样美丽，她高兴得轻叫了一声，伸出胳膊向前跑去。原来门口站着的是狮王阿斯兰，他是所有至尊王中最至高无上的国王。他切切实实地在这里，身上温暖极了，他由着露西亲吻自己，把脸埋进他亮闪闪的鬃毛里。他的身体里发出低沉的地震般的声音，露西居然觉得他在咕噜咕噜地叫。

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“啊，阿斯兰，”她说，“你来了，真是太好了。”

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“我一直在这里，”他说，“只不过你让我现形了。”

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“阿斯兰！”露西略带责备地说，“别开我玩笑了。好像我真能让你现形似的！”

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“真的，”阿斯兰说，“你以为我不会遵守我自己定的规则吗？”

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停顿了一会儿，他又说话了。

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“孩子，”他说，“我想你刚刚一直在偷听。”

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“偷听？”

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“你偷听了你那两个同学关于你的对话。”

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“哦，那个呀？我从没想过那是偷听，阿斯兰。那不是魔法吗？”

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“用魔法监视别人，就像用其他办法监视别人一样。你错看了你的朋友。她很软弱，但是她爱你。她害怕那个大一些的女孩子，所以才说了违心的话。”

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“我觉得我忘不掉我听到的她说的话。”

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“不，不会的。”

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“哦，天哪，”露西说，“我把一切都搞砸了吗？你的意思是，如果我没偷听，我们就会一直是朋友——而且是真正的好朋友，也许我们一辈子都是朋友——但现在这已经不可能了。”

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“孩子，”阿斯兰说，“我以前难道没有跟你说过吗？谁也无法知道未来会发生什么事。”

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“阿斯兰，你跟我说过，”露西说，“对不起。但是，请你……”

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“亲爱的，继续说。”

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“我还能再读一遍那个故事吗，那个我记不住的故事？你能给我讲一遍吗，阿斯兰？哦，讲嘛，讲嘛，讲嘛。”

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“好，我会给你讲很多很多年。但是现在，过来吧。我们得去见见这座房子的主人。”

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THE invisible people feasted their guests royally. It was very funny to see the plates and dishes coming to the table and not to see anyone carrying them. It would have been funny even if they had moved along level with the floor, as you would expect things to do in invisible hands. But they didn’t. They progressed up the long dining-hall in a series of bounds or jumps. At the highest point of each jump a dish would be about fifteen feet up in the air; then it would come down and stop quite suddenly about three feet from the floor. When the dish contained anything like soup or stew the result was rather disastrous.

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“I’m beginning to feel very inquisitive about these people,” whispered Eustace to Edmund. “Do you think they’re human at all? More like huge grasshoppers or giant frogs, I should say.”

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“It does look like it,” said Edmund. “But don’t put the idea of the grasshoppers into Lucy’s head. She’s not too keen on insects; especially big ones.”

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The meal would have been pleasanter if it had not been so exceedingly messy, and also if the conversation had not consisted entirely of agreements. The invisible people agreed about everything. Indeed most of their remarks were the sort it would not be easy to disagree with:“What I always say is, when a chap’s hungry, he likes some victuals,” or“Getting dark now; always does at night,” or even “Ah, you’ve come over the water. Powerful wet stuff, ain’t it?” And Lucy could not help looking at the dark yawning entrance to the foot of the staircase—she could see it from where she sat—and wondering what she would find when she went up those stairs next morning. But it was a good meal otherwise, with mushroom soup and boiled chickens and hot boiled ham and gooseberries, redcurrants, curds, cream, milk, and mead. The others liked the mead but Eustace was sorry afterwards that he had drunk any.

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When Lucy woke up next morning it was like waking up on the day of an examination or a day when you are going to the dentist. It was a lovely morning with bees buzzing in and out of her open window and the lawn outside looking very like somewhere in England. She got up and dressed and tried to talk and eat ordinarily at breakfast. Then, after being instructed by the Chief Voice about what she was to do upstairs, she bid goodbye to the others, said nothing, walked to the bottom of the stairs, and began going up them without once looking back.

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It was quite light, that was one good thing. There was, indeed, a window straight ahead of her at the top of the first flight. As long as she was on that flight she could hear the tick-tock-tick-tock of a grandfather clock in the hall below. Then she came to the landing and had to turn to her left up the next flight; after that she couldn’t hear the clock any more.

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Now she had come to the top of the stairs. Lucy looked and saw a long, wide passage with a large window at the far end. Apparently the passage ran the whole length of the house. It was carved and panelled and carpeted and very many doors opened off it on each side. She stood still and couldn’t hear the squeak of a mouse, or the buzzing of a fly, or the swaying of a curtain, or anything—except the beating of her own heart.

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“The last doorway on the left,” she said to herself. It did seem a bit hard that it should be the last. To reach it she would have to walk past room after room. And in any room there might be the magician—asleep, or awake, or invisible, or even dead. But it wouldn’t do to think about that. She set out on her journey. The carpet was so thick that her feet made no noise.

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“There’s nothing whatever to be afraid of yet,” Lucy told herself. And certainly it was a quiet, sunlit passage; perhaps a bit too quiet. It would have been nicer if there had not been strange signs painted in scarlet on the doors—twisty, complicated things which obviously had a meaning and it mightn’t be a very nice meaning either. It would have been nicer still if there weren’t those masks hanging on the wall. Not that they were exactly ugly—or not so very ugly—but the empty eye-holes did look queer, and if you let yourself you would soon start imagining that the masks were doing things as soon as your back was turned to them.

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After about the sixth door she got her first real fright. For one second she felt almost certain that a wicked little bearded face had popped out of the wall and made a grimace at her. She forced herself to stop and look at it. And it was not a face at all. It was a little mirror just the size and shape of her own face, with hair on the top of it and a beard hanging down from it, so that when you looked in the mirror your own face fitted into the hair and beard and it looked as if they belonged to you. “I just caught my own reflection with the tail of my eye as I went past,” said Lucy to herself. “That was all it was. It’s quite harmless.” But she didn’t like the look of her own face with that hair and beard, and went on.（I don’t know what the Bearded Glass was for because I am not a magician.）

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Before she reached the last door on the left, Lucy was beginning to wonder whether the corridor had grown longer since she began her journey and whether this was part of the magic of the house. But she got to it at last. And the door was open.

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It was a large room with three big windows and it was lined from floor to ceiling with books; more books than Lucy had ever seen before, tiny little books, fat and dumpy books, and books bigger than any church Bible you have ever seen, all bound in leather and smelling old and learned and magical. But she knew from her instructions that she need not bother about any of these. For the Book, the Magic Book, was lying on a reading-desk in the very middle of the room. She saw she would have to read it standing（and anyway there were no chairs）and also that she would have to stand with her back to the door while she read it. So at once she turned to shut the door.

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It wouldn’t shut.

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Some people may disagree with Lucy about this, but I think she was quite right. She said she wouldn’t have minded if she could have shut the door, but that it was unpleasant to have to stand in a place like that with an open doorway right behind your back. I should have felt just the same. But there was nothing else to be done.

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One thing that worried her a good deal was the size of the Book. The Chief Voice had not been able to give her any idea whereabouts in the Book the spell for making things visible came. He even seemed rather surprised at her asking. He expected her to begin at the beginning and go on till she came to it; obviously he had never thought that there was any other way of finding a place in a book. “But it might take me days and weeks!” said Lucy, looking at the huge volume, “and I feel already as if I’d been in this place for hours.”

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She went up to the desk and laid her hand on the book; her fingers tingled when she touched it as if it were full of electricity. She tried to open it but couldn’t at first; this, however, was only because it was fastened by two leaden clasps, and when she had undone these it opened easily enough. And what a book it was!

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It was written, not printed; written in a clear, even hand, with thick downstrokes and thin upstrokes, very large, easier than print, and so beautiful that Lucy stared at it for a whole minute and forgot about reading it. The paper was crisp and smooth and a nice smell came from it; and in the margins, and round the big coloured capital letters at the beginning of each spell, there were pictures.

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There was no title page or title; the spells began straight away, and at first there was nothing very important in them. They were cures for warts（by washing your hands in moonlight in a silver basin）and toothache and cramp, and a spell for taking a swarm of bees. The picture of the man with toothache was so lifelike that it would have set your own teeth aching if you looked at it too long, and the golden bees which were dotted all round the fourth spell looked for a moment as if they were really flying.

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Lucy could hardly tear herself away from that first page, but when she turned over, the next was just as interesting. “But I must get on,” she told herself. And on she went for about thirty pages which, if she could have remembered them, would have taught her how to find buried treasure, how to remember things forgotten, how to forget things you wanted to forget, how to tell whether anyone was speaking the truth, how to call up（or prevent）wind, fog, snow, sleet or rain, how to produce enchanted sleeps and how to give a man an ass’s head（as they did to poor Bottom）. And the longer she read the more wonderful and more real the pictures became.

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Then she came to a page which was such a blaze of pictures that one hardly noticed the writing. Hardly—but she did notice the first words.They were, An infallible spell to make beautiful her that uttereth it beyond the lot of mortals. Lucy peered at the pictures with her face close to the page, and though they had seemed crowded and muddlesome before, she found she could now see them quite clearly. The first was a picture of a girl standing at a reading-desk reading in a huge book. And the girl was dressed exactly like Lucy. In the next picture Lucy（for the girl in the picture was Lucy herself）was standing up with her mouth open and a rather terrible expression on her face, chanting or reciting something. In the third picture the beauty beyond the lot of mortals had come to her. It was strange, considering how small the pictures had looked at first, that the Lucy in the picture now seemed quite as big as the real Lucy; and they looked into each other’s eyes and the real Lucy looked away after a few minutes because she was dazzled by the beauty of the other Lucy; though she could still see a sort of likeness to herself in that beautiful face. And now the pictures came crowding on her thick and fast. She saw herself throned on high at a great tournament in Calormen and all the Kings of the world fought because of her beauty. After that it turned from tournaments to real wars, and all Narnia and Archenland, Telmar and Calormen, Galma and Terebinthia, were laid waste with the fury of the kings and dukes and great lords who fought for her favour. Then it changed and Lucy, still beautiful beyond the lot of mortals, was back in England. And Susan（who had always been the beauty of the family）came home from America. The Susan in the picture looked exactly like the real Susan only plainer and with a nasty expression. And Susan was jealous of the dazzling beauty of Lucy, but that didn’t matter a bit because no one cared anything about Susan now.

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“I will say the spell,” said Lucy. “I don’t care. I will.” She said I don’t care because she had a strong feeling that she mustn’t.

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But when she looked back at the opening words of the spell, there in the middle of the writing, where she felt quite sure there had been no picture before, she found the great face of a lion, of The Lion, Aslan himself, staring into hers. It was painted such a bright gold that it seemed to be coming towards her out of the page; and indeed she never was quite sure afterwards that it hadn’t really moved a little. At any rate she knew the expression on his face quite well. He was growling and you could see most of his teeth. She became horribly afraid and turned over the page at once.

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A little later she came to a spell which would let you know what your friends thought about you. Now Lucy had wanted very badly to try the other spell, the one that made you beautiful beyond the lot of mortals. So she felt that to make up for not having said it, she really would say this one. And all in a hurry, for fear her mind would change, she said the words（nothing will induce me to tell you what they were）. Then she waited for something to happen.

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As nothing happened she began looking at the pictures. And all at once she saw the very last thing she expected—a picture of a third-class carriage in a train, with two schoolgirls sitting in it. She knew them at once. They were Marjorie Preston and Anne Featherstone. Only now it was much more than a picture. It was alive. She could see the telegraph posts flicking past outside the window. Then gradually（like when the radio is “coming on”）she could hear what they were saying.

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“Shall I see anything of you this term?” said Anne, “or are you still going to be all taken up with Lucy Pevensie.”

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“Don’t know what you mean by taken up,” said Marjorie.

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“Oh yes, you do,” said Anne. “You were crazy about her last term.”

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“No, I wasn’t,” said Marjorie. “I’ve got more sense than that. Not a bad little kid in her way. But I was getting pretty tired of her before the end of term.”

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“Well, you jolly well won’t have the chance any other term!” shouted Lucy. “Two-faced little beast.” But the sound of her own voice at once reminded her that she was talking to a picture and that the real Marjorie was far away in another world.

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“Well,” said Lucy to herself, “I did think better of her than that. And I did all sorts of things for her last term, and I stuck to her when not many other girls would. And she knows it too. And to Anne Featherstone of all people! I wonder are all my friends the same? There are lots of other pictures. No. I won’t look at any more. I won’t, I won’t”—and with a great effort she turned over the page, but not before a large, angry tear had splashed on it.

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On the next page she came to a spell “for the refreshment of the spirit”. The pictures were fewer here but very beautiful. And what Lucy found herself reading was more like a story than a spell. It went on for three pages and before she had read to the bottom of the page she had forgotten that she was reading at all. She was living in the story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When she had got to the third page and come to the end, she said, “That is the loveliest story I’ve ever read or ever shall read in my whole life. Oh, I wish I could have gone on reading it for ten years. At least I’ll read it over again.”

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But here part of the magic of the Book came into play. You couldn’t turn back. The right-hand pages, the ones ahead, could be turned; the left-hand pages could not.

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“Oh, what a shame!” said Lucy. “I did so want to read it again. Well, at least I must remember it. Let’s see... it was about... about... oh dear, it’s all fading away again. And even this last page is going blank. This is a very queer book. How can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill, I know that much. But I can’t remember and what shall I do?”

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And she never could remember; and ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician’s Book.

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She turned on and found to her surprise a page with no pictures at all; but the first words were A Spell to make hidden things visible. She read it through to make sure of all the hard words and then said it out loud. And she knew at once that it was working because as she spoke the colours came into the capital letters at the top of the page and the pictures began appearing in the margins. It was like when you hold to the fire something written in Invisible Ink and the writing gradually shows up; only instead of the dingy colour of lemon juice（which is the easiest Invisible Ink）this was all gold and blue and scarlet. They were odd pictures and contained many figures that Lucy did not much like the look of. And then she thought, “I suppose I’ve made everything visible, and not only the Thumpers. There might be lots of other invisible things hanging about a place like this. I’m not sure that I want to see them all.”

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At that moment she heard soft, heavy footfalls coming along the corridor behind her; and of course she remembered what she had been told about the Magician walking in his bare feet and making no more noise than a cat. It is always better to turn round than to have anything creeping up behind your back. Lucy did so.

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Then her face lit up till, for a moment（but of course she didn’t know it）, she looked almost as beautiful as that other Lucy in the picture, and she ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out. For what stood in the doorway was Aslan himself, The Lion, the highest of all High Kings. And he was solid and real and warm and he let her kiss him and bury herself in his shining mane. And from the low, earthquake-like sound that came from inside him, Lucy even dared to think that he was purring.

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“Oh, Aslan,” said she, “it was kind of you to come.”

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“I have been here all the time,” said he, “but you have just made me visible.”

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“Aslan!” said Lucy almost a little reproachfully. “Don’t make fun of me. As if anything I could do would make you visible!”

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“It did,” said Aslan. “Do you think I wouldn’t obey my own rules?” After a little pause he spoke again.

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“Child,” he said, “I think you have been eavesdropping.”

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“Eavesdropping?”

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“You listened to what your two schoolfellows were saying about you.”

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“Oh that? I never thought that was eavesdropping, Aslan. Wasn’t it magic?”

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“Spying on people by magic is the same as spying on them in any other way. And you have misjudged your friend. She is weak, but she loves you. She was afraid of the older girl and said what she does not mean.”

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“I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget what I heard her say.”

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“No, you won’t.”

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“Oh dear,” said Lucy. “Have I spoiled everything? Do you mean we would have gone on being friends if it hadn’t been for this—and been really great friends—all our lives perhaps—and now we never shall.”

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“Child,” said Aslan, “did I not explain to you once before that no one is ever told what would have happened?”

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“Yes, Aslan, you did,” said Lucy. “I’m sorry. But please—”

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“Speak on, dear heart.”

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“Shall I ever be able to read that story again; the one I couldn’t remember? Will you tell it to me, Aslan? Oh do, do, do.”

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“Indeed, yes, I will tell it to you for years and years. But now, come. We must meet the master of this house.”

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

disastrous

[dɪ’zɑːstrəs]

adj.灾难性的;极糟的

grasshopper

[’ɡrɑːshɒpə(r)]

n.蚱蜢;蝗虫;轻型飞机;蚱蜢鸡尾酒

mead

[miːd]

n.蜂蜜酒;草地

goodbye

[gʊdˈbaɪ]

再见

sway

[sweɪ]

v.摇动;摇摆;支配;影响;说服，使相信

magician

[mə’dʒɪʃn]

n.魔术师;术士

queer

[kwɪə(r)]

a. 古怪的，奇怪的;

magical

[’mædʒɪkl]

adj.魔术的;有魔力的;神奇的;迷人的

felted

[’feltɪd]

v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结)

undo

[ʌn’duː]

v.解开;松开;取消

crisp

[krisp]

a. 脆的；酥的；松脆的;

lifelike

[’laɪflaɪk]

adj.逼真的;栩栩如生的

enchant

[ɪn’tʃɑːnt]

v.施魔法;使迷惑;使喜悦;使陶醉

Susan

[’suːzn]

n.苏珊(女子名)

growl

[ɡraʊl]

n.吠声;咆哮声

gradual

[’ɡrædʒuəl]

adj.逐渐的;逐步的;平缓的

thumper

[’θʌmpə]

n.用力打的人;强打;巨大的人

reproachful

[rɪ’prəʊtʃfl]

adj.申斥的;非难的;责备似的

obey

[ə’beɪ]

v.服从;遵守;顺从;听从

misjudge

[ˌmɪs’dʒʌdʒ]

v.判断错误

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