波波小说

chater ne the fundg f narnia（第1页）

THELionwaspacingtoandfroaboutthatemptylandandsinginghisnewsong．Itwassofterandmoreliltingthanthesongbywhichhehadcalledupthestarsandthesun；agentle，ripplingmusic．Andashewalkedandsangthevalleygrewgreenwithgrass．ItspreadoutfromtheLionlikeapool．Itranupthesidesofthelittlehillslikeawave．Inafewminutesitwascreepingupthelowerslopesofthedistantmountains，makingthatyoungworldeverymomentsofter．Thelightwindcouldnowbeheardrufflingthegrass．Soontherewereotherthingsbesidesgrass．Thehigherslopesgrewdarkwithheather．Patchesofrougherandmorebristlinggreenappearedinthevalley．Digorydidnotknowwhattheywereuntilonebegancomingupquiteclosetohim．Itwasalittle，spikythingthatthrewoutdozensofarmsandcoveredthesearmswithgreenandgrewlargerattherateofaboutanincheverytwoseconds．Thereweredozensofthesethingsallroundhimnow．Whentheywerenearlyastallashimselfhesawwhattheywere．“Trees！”heexclaimed．

Thenuisanceofit，asPollysaidafterwards，wasthatyouweren’tleftinpeacetowatchitall．JustasDigorysaid“Trees！”hehadtojumpbecauseUncleAndrewhadsidleduptohimagainandwasgoingtopickhispocket．Itwouldn’thavedoneUncleAndrewmuchgoodifhehadsucceeded，forhewasaimingattheright-handpocketbecausehestillthoughtthegreenringswere“homeward”rings．ButofcourseDigorydidn’twanttoloseeither．

“Stop！”criedtheWitch．“Standback．No，furtherback．Ifanyonegoeswithintenpacesofeitherofthechildren，Iwillknockouthisbrains．”Shewaspoisinginherhandtheironbarthatshehadtornoffthelamp-post，readytothrowit．Somehownoonedoubtedthatshewouldbeaverygoodshot．

“So！”shesaid．“Youwouldstealbacktoyourownworldwiththeboyandleavemehere．”

UncleAndrew’stemperatlastgotthebetterofhisfears．“Yes，Ma’am，Iwould，”hesaid．“MostundoubtedlyIwould．Ishouldbeperfectlyinmyrights．Ihavebeenmostshamefully，mostabominablytreated．Ihavedonemybesttoshowyousuchcivilitiesaswereinmypower．Andwhathasbeenmyreward？Youhaverobbed-Imustrepeattheword—robbedahighlyrespectablejeweller．Youhaveinsistedonmyentertainingyoutoanexceedinglyexpensive，nottosayostentatious，lunch，thoughIwasobligedtopawnmywatchandchaininordertodoso（andletmetellyou，Ma’am，thatnoneofourfamilyhavebeeninthehabitoffrequentingpawnshops，exceptmycousinEdward，andhewasintheYeomanry）．Duringthatindigestiblemeal-I’mfeelingtheworseforitatthisverymoment-yourbehaviourandconversationattractedtheunfavourableattentionofeveryonepresent．IfeelIhavebeenpubliclydisgraced．Ishallneverbeabletoshowmyfaceinthatrestaurantagain．Youhaveassaultedthepolice．Youhavestolen-”

“Ohstowit，Guv’nor，dostowit，”saidtheCabby．“Watchin’andlistenin’sthethingatpresent；nottalking．”

Therewascertainlyplentytowatchandtolistento．ThetreewhichDigoryhadnoticedwasnowafull-grownbeechwhosebranchesswayedgentlyabovehishead．Theystoodoncool，greengrass，sprinkledwithdaisiesandbuttercups．Alittlewayoff，alongtheriverbank，willowsweregrowing．Ontheothersidetanglesoffloweringcurrant，lilac，wildrose，andrhododendronclosedthemin．Thehorsewastearingupdeliciousmouthfulsofnewgrass．

AllthistimetheLion’ssong，andhisstatelyprowl，toandfro，backwardsandforwards，wasgoingon．Whatwasratheralarmingwasthatateachturnhecamealittlenearer．Pollywasfindingthesongmoreandmoreinterestingbecauseshethoughtshewasbeginningtoseetheconnectionbetweenthemusicandthethingsthatwerehappening．Whenalineofdarkfirsspranguponaridgeaboutahundredyardsawayshefeltthattheywereconnectedwithaseriesofdeep，prolongednoteswhichtheLionhadsungasecondbefore．Andwhenheburstintoarapidseriesoflighternotesshewasnotsurprisedtoseeprimrosessuddenlyappearingineverydirection．Thus，withanunspeakablethrill，shefeltquitecertainthatallthethingswerecoming（asshesaid）“outoftheLion’shead”．Whenyoulistenedtohissongyouheardthethingshewasmakingup：whenyoulookedroundyou，yousawthem．Thiswassoexcitingthatshehadnotimetobeafraid．ButDigoryandtheCabbycouldnothelpfeelingabitnervousaseachturnoftheLion’swalkbroughthimnearer．AsforUncleAndrew，histeethwerechattering，buthiskneeswereshakingsothathecouldnotrunaway．

SuddenlytheWitchsteppedboldlyouttowardtheLion．Itwascomingon，alwayssinging，withaslow，heavypace．Itwasonlytwelveyardsaway．Sheraisedherarmandflungtheironbarstraightatitshead．

Nobody，leastofallJadis，couldhavemissedatthatrange．ThebarstrucktheLionfairbetweentheeyes．Itglancedoffandfellwithathudinthegrass．TheLioncameon．Itswalkwasneitherslowernorfasterthanbefore；youcouldnottellwhetheritevenknewithadbeenhit．Thoughitssoftpadsmadenonoise，youcouldfeeltheearthshakebeneaththeirweight．

TheWitchshriekedandran：inafewmomentsshewasoutofsightamongthetrees．UncleAndrewturnedtodolikewise，trippedoveraroot，andfellflatonhisfaceinalittlebrookthatrandowntojointheriver．Thechildrencouldnotmove．Theywerenotevenquitesurethattheywantedto．TheLionpaidnoattentiontothem．Itshugeredmouthwasopen，butopeninsongnotinasnarl．Itpassedbythemsoclosethattheycouldhavetoucheditsmane．Theywereterriblyafraiditwouldturnandlookatthem，yetinsomequeerwaytheywisheditwould．Butforallthenoticeittookofthemtheymightjustaswellhavebeeninvisibleandunsmellable．Whenithadpassedthemandgoneafewpacesfurtheritturned，passedthemagain，andcontinueditsmarcheastward．

UncleAndrew，coughingandspluttering，pickedhimselfup．

“Now，Digory，”hesaid，“we’vegotridofthatwoman，andthebruteofalionisgone．Givemeyourhandandputonyourringatonce．”

“Keepoff，”saidDigory，backingawayfromhim．“Keepclearofhim，Polly．Comeoverherebesideme．NowIwarnyou，UncleAndrew，don’tcomeonestepnearer，we’lljustvanish．”

“Dowhatyou’retoldthisminute，sir，”saidUncleAndrew。

“you’reanextremelydisobedient，ill-behavedlittleboy．”

“Nofear，”saidDigory．“Wewanttostayandseewhathappens．Ithoughtyouwantedtoknowaboutotherworlds．Don’tyoulikeitnowyou’rehere？”

“Likeit！”exclaimedUncleAndrew．“JustlookatthestateI’min．Anditwasmybestcoatandwaistcoat，too．”Hecertainlywasadreadfulsightbynow：forofcourse，themoredressedupyouweretobeginwith，theworseyoulookafteryou’vecrawledoutofasmashedhansoncabandfallenintoamuddybrook．“I’mnotsaying，”headded，“thatthisisnotamostinterestingplace．IfIwereayoungerman，now-perhapsIcouldgetsomelivelyyoungfellowto

comeherefirst．Oneofthosebig-gamehunters．Somethingmightbemadeofthiscountry．Theclimateisdelightful．Ineverfeltsuchair．Ibelieveitwouldhavedonemegoodif-ifcircumstanceshadbeenmorefavourable．Ifonlywe’dhadagun．”

“Gunsbeblowed，”saidtheCabby．“IthinkI’llgoandseeifIcangiveStrawberryarubdown．Thathorse‘asmoresensethansome’umansasIcouldmention．”HewalkedbacktoStrawberryandbeganmakingthehissingnoisesthatgroomsmake．

“DoyoustillthinkthatLioncouldbekilledbyagun？”askedDigory．“Hedidn’tmindtheironbarmuch．”

“Withallherfaults，”saidUncleAndrew，“that’sapluckygel，myboy．Itwasaspiritedthingtodo．”Herubbedhishandsandcrackedhisknuckles，asifhewereoncemoreforgettinghowtheWitchfrightenedhimwhenevershewasreallythere．

“Itwasawickedthingtodo，”saidPolly．“Whatharmhadhedoneher？”

“Hullo！What’sthat？”saidDigory．Hehaddartedforwardtoexaminesomethingonlyafewyardsaway．“Isay，Polly，”hecalledback．“Docomeandlook．”

UncleAndrewcamewithher；notbecausehewantedtoseebutbecausehewantedtokeepclosetothechildren—theremightbeachanceofstealingtheirrings．ButwhenhesawwhatDigorywaslookingat，evenhebegantotakeaninterest．Itwasaperfectlittlemodelofalamp-post，aboutthreefeethighbutlengthening，andthickeninginproportion，astheywatchedit；infactgrowingjustasthetreeshadgrown．

“It’salivetoo-Imean，it’slit，”saidDigory．Andsoitwas；thoughofcourse，thebrightnessofthesunmadethelittleflameinthelanternhardtoseeunlessyourshadowfellonit．

“Remarkable，mostremarkable，”mutteredUncleAndrew．“EvenIneverdreamtofMagiclikethis．We’reinaworldwhereeverything，evenalamp—post，comestolifeandgrows．NowIwonderwhatsortofseedalamp—postgrowsfrom？”

“Don’tyousee？”saidDigory．“Thisiswherethebarfell-thebarshetoreoffthelamp-postathome．Itsankintothegroundandnowit’scomingupasayounglamp—post．”（Butnotsoveryyoungnow；itwasastallasDigorywhilehesaidthis．）

“That’sit！Stupendous，stupendous，”saidUncleAndrew，rubbinghishandsharderthanever．“Ho，ho！TheylaughedatmyMagic．ThatfoolofasisterofminethinksI’malunatic．Iwonderwhatthey’llsaynow？Ihavediscoveredaworldwhereeverythingisburstingwithlifeandgrowth．Columbus，now，theytalkaboutColumbus．ButwhatwasAmericatothis？Thecommercialpossibilitiesofthiscountryareunbounded．Bringafewoldbitsofscrapironhere，bury’em，anduptheycomeasbrandnewrailwayengines，battleships，anythingyouplease．They’llcostnothing，andIcansell’ematfullpricesinEngland．Ishallbeamillionaire．Andthentheclimate！Ifeelyearsyoungeralready．Icanrunitasahealthresort．Agoodsanatoriumheremightbeworthtwentythousandayear．OfcourseIshallhavetoletafewpeopleintothesecret．Thefirstthingistogetthatbruteshot．”

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