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·Behind The Gym·在体育馆的后边
It was a dull autumn day and Jill Pole was crying behind the gym.
She was crying because they had been bullying her. This is not going to be a school story, so I shall say as little as possible about Jill’s school, which is not a pleasant subject. It was Co—educational, a school for both boys and girls, what used to be called a “mixed” school; some said it was not nearly so mixed as the minds of the people who ran it. These people had the idea that boys and girls should be allowed to do what they liked. And unfortunately what ten or fifteen of the biggest boys and girls liked best was bullying the others. All sorts of things, horrid things, went on which at an ordinary school would have been found out and stopped in half a term; but at this school they weren’t. Or even if they were, the people who did them were not expelled or punished. The Head said they were interesting psychological cases and sent for them and talked to them for hours. And if you knew the right sort of things to say to the Head, the main result was that you became rather a favourite than otherwise.
That was why Jill Pole was crying on that dull autumn day on the damp little path which runs between the back of the gym and the shrubbery. And she hadn’t nearly finished her cry when a boy came round the corner of the gym whistling, with his hands in his pockets. He nearly ran into her.
“Can’t you look where you’re going?” said Jill Pole.
“All right,” said the boy, “you needn’t start—” and then he noticed her face. “I say, Pole,” he said, “what’s up?”
Jill only made faces; the sort you make when you’re trying to say something but find that if you speak you’ll start crying again.
“It’s Them, I suppose—as usual,” said the boy grimly, digging his hands further into his pockets.
Jill nodded. There was no need for her to say any—thing, even if she could have said it. They both knew.
“Now, look here,” said the boy, “there’s no good us all—”
He meant well, but he did talk rather like someone beginning a lecture. Jill suddenly flew into a temper (which is quite a likely thing to happen if you have been interrupted in a cry).
“Oh, go away and mind your own business,” she said. “Nobody asked you to come barging in, did they? And you’re a nice person to start telling us what we all ought to do, aren’t you? I suppose you mean we ought to spend all our time sucking up to Them, and currying favour, and dancing attendance on Them like you do.”
“Oh, Lor!” said the boy, sitting down on the grassy bank at the edge of the shrubbery and very quickly getting up again because the grass was soaking wet. His name unfortunately was Eustace Scrubb, but he wasn’t a bad sort.
“Pole!” he said. “Is that fair? Have I been doing anything of the sort this term? Didn’t I stand up to Carter about the rabbit? And didn’t I keep the secret about Spivvins—under torture too? And didn’t I—”
“I d—don’t know and I don’t care,” sobbed Jill.
Scrubb saw that she wasn’t quite herself yet and very sensibly offered her a peppermint. He had one too. Presently Jill began to see things in a clearer light.
“I’m sorry, Scrubb,” she said presently. “I wasn’t fair. You have done all that—this term.”
“Then wash out last term if you can,” said Eustace. “I was a different chap then. I was—gosh! what a little tick I was.”
“Well, honestly, you were,” said Jill.
“You think there has been a change, then?” said Eustace.
“It’s not only me,” said Jill. “Everyone’s been saying so. They’ve noticed it. Eleanor Blakiston heard Adela Pennyfather talking about it in our changing room yesterday. She said, ‘Someone’s got hold of that Scrubb kid. He’s quite unmanageable this term. We shall have to attend to him next.’ ”
Eustace gave a shudder. Everyone at Experiment House knew what it was like being “attended to” by Them.
Both children were quiet for a moment. The drops dripped off the laurel leaves.
“Why were you so different last term?” said Jill presently.
“A lot of queer things happened to me in the hols,” said Eustace mysteriously.
“What sort of things?” asked Jill.
Eustace didn’t say anything for quite a long time. Then he said: “Look here, Pole, you and I hate this place about as much as anybody can hate anything, don’t we?”
“I know I do,” said Jill.
“Then I really think I can trust you.”
“Dam’ good of you,” said Jill.
“Yes, but this is a really terrific secret. Pole, I say, are you good at believing things? I mean things that everyone here would laugh at?”
“I’ve never had the chance,” said Jill, “but I think I would be.”
“Could you believe me if I said I’d been right out of the world— outside this world—last hols?”
“I wouldn’t know what you meant.”
“Well, don’t let’s bother about that then. Supposing I told you I’d been in a place where animals can talk and where there are—er—enchantments and dragons—and—well, all the sorts of things you have in fairy tales.” Scrubb felt terribly awkward as he said this and got red in the face.
“How did you get there?” said Jill. She also felt curiously shy.
“The only way you can—by Magic,” said Eustace almost in a whisper. “I was with two cousins of mine. We were just—whisked away. They’d been there before.”
Now that they were talking in whispers Jill somehow felt it easier to believe. Then suddenly a horrible suspicion came over her and she said (so fiercely that for the moment she looked like a tigress):
“If I find you’ve been pulling my leg I’ll never speak to you again; never, never, never.”
“I’m not,” said Eustace. “I swear I’m not. I swear by—by everything.”
(When I was at school one would have said, “I swear by the Bible.” But Bibles were not encouraged at Experiment House.)
“All right,” said Jill, “I’ll believe you.”
“And tell nobody?”
“What do you take me for?”
They were very excited as they said this. But when they had said it and Jill looked round and saw the dull autumn sky and heard the drip off the leaves and thought of all the hopelessness of Experiment House (it was a thirteen—week term and there were still eleven weeks to come) she said:
“But after all, what’s the good? We’re not there; we’re here. And we jolly well can’t get there. Or can we?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” said Eustace. “When we came back from That Place, Someone said that the two Pevensie kids (that’s my two cousins) could never go there again. It was their third time, you see. I suppose they’ve had their share. But he never said I couldn’t. Surely he would have said so, unless he meant that I was to get back? And I can’t help wondering, can we—could we—?”
“Do you mean, do something to make it happen?”
Eustace nodded.
“You mean we might draw a circle on the ground—and write in queer letters in it—and stand inside it—and recite charms and spells?”
“Well,” said Eustace after he had thought hard for a bit. “I believe that was the sort of thing I was thinking of, though I never did it. But now that it comes to the point, I’ve an idea that all those circles and things are rather rot. I don’t think he’d like them. It would look as if we thought we could make him do things. But really, we can only ask him.”
“Who is this person you keep on talking about?”
“They call him Aslan in That Place,” said Eustace.
“What a curious name!”
“Not half so curious as himself,” said Eustace solemnly. “But let’s get on. It can’t do any harm, just asking. Let’s stand side by side, like this. And we’ll hold out our arms in front of us with the palms down: like they did in Ramandu’s island—”
“Whose island?”
“I’ll tell you about that another time. And he might like us to face the east. Let’s see, where is the east?”
“I don’t know,” said Jill.
“It’s an extraordinary thing about girls that they never know the points of the compass,” said Eustace.
“You don’t know either,” said Jill indignantly.
“Yes I do, if only you didn’t keep on interrupting. I’ve got it now. That’s the east, facing up into the laurels. Now, will you say the words after me?”
“What words?” asked Jill.
“The words I’m going to say, of course,” answered Eustace. “Now—”
And he began, “Aslan, Aslan, Aslan!”
“Aslan, Aslan, Aslan,” repeated Jill.
“Please let us two go into—”
At that moment a voice from the other side of the gym was heard shouting out, “Pole? Yes, I know where she is. She’s blubbing behind the gym. Shall I fetch her out?”
Jill and Eustace gave one glance at each other, dived under the laurels, and began scrambling up the steep, earthy slope of the shrubbery at a speed which did them great credit. (Owing to the curious methods of teaching at Experiment House, one did not learn much French or Maths or Latin or things of that sort; but one did learn a lot about getting away quickly and quietly when They were looking for one.)
After about a minute’s scramble they stopped to listen, and knew by the noises they heard that they were being followed.
“If only the door was open again!” said Scrubb as they went on, and Jill nodded. For at the top of the shrubbery was a high stone wall and in that wall a door by which you could get out on to open moor. This door was nearly always locked. But there had been times when people had found it open; or perhaps there had been only one time. But you may imagine how the memory of even one time kept people hoping, and trying the door; for if it should happen to be unlocked it would be a splendid way of getting outside the school grounds without being seen.
Jill and Eustace, now both very hot and very grubby from going along bent almost double under the laurels, panted up to the wall. And there was the door, shut as usual.
“It’s sure to be no good,” said Eustace with his hand on the handle; and then, “O—o—oh. By Gum!!” For the handle turned and the door opened.
A moment before, both of them had meant to get through that doorway in double quick time, if by any chance the door was not locked. But when the door actually opened, they both stood stock still. For what they saw was quite different from what they had expected.
They had expected to see the grey, heathery slope of the moor going up and up to join the dull autumn sky. Instead, a blaze of sunshine met them. It poured through the doorway as the light of a June day pours into a garage when you open the door. It made the drops of water on the grass glitter like beads and showed up the dirtiness of Jill’s tear—stained face. And the sunlight was coming from what certainly did look like a different world—what they could see of it. They saw smooth turf, smoother and brighter than Jill had ever seen before, and blue sky and, darting to and fro, things so bright that they might have been jewels or huge butterflies.
Although she had been longing for something like this, Jill felt frightened. She looked at Scrubb’s face and saw that he was frightened too.
“Come on, Pole,” he said in a breathless voice.
“Can we get back? Is it safe?” asked Jill.
At that moment a voice shouted from behind, a mean, spiteful little voice. “Now then, Pole,” it squeaked. “Everyone knows you’re there. Down you come.” It was the voice of Edith Jackle, not one of Them herself but one of their hangers—on and tale—bearers.
“Quick!” said Scrubb. “Here. Hold hands. We mustn’t get separated.” And before she quite knew what was happening, he had grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door, out of the school grounds, out of England, out of our whole world into That Place.
The sound of Edith Jackle’s voice stopped as suddenly as the voice on the radio when it is switched off. Instantly there was a quite different sound all about them. It came from those bright things overhead, which now turned out to be birds. They were making a riotous noise, but it was much more like music—rather advanced music which you don’t quite take in at the first hearing—than birds’ songs ever are in our world. Yet, in spite of the singing, there was a sort of background of immense silence. That silence, combined with the freshness of the air, made Jill think they must be on the top of a very high mountain.
Scrubb still had her by the hand and they were walking forward, staring about them on every side. Jill saw that huge trees, rather like cedars but bigger, grew in every direction. But as they did not grow close together, and as there was no under—growth, this did not prevent one from seeing a long way into the forest to left and right. And as far as Jill’s eye could reach, it was all the same—level turf, darting birds with yellow, or dragonfly blue, or rainbow plumage, blue shadows, and emptiness. There was not a breath of wind in that cool, bright air. It was a very lonely forest.
Right ahead there were no trees: only blue sky. They went straight on without speaking till suddenly Jill heard Scrubb say, “Look out!” and felt herself jerked back. They were at the very edge of a cliff.
Jill was one of those lucky people who have a good head for heights. She didn’t mind in the least standing on the edge of a precipice. She was rather annoyed with Scrubb for pulling her back— “just as if I was a kid”, she said—and she wrenched her hand out of his. When she saw how very white he had turned, she despised him.
“What’s the matter?” she said. And to show that she was not afraid, she stood very near the edge indeed; in fact, a good deal nearer than even she liked. Then she looked down.
She now realized that Scrubb had some excuse for looking white, for no cliff in our world is to be compared with this. Imagine yourself at the top of the very highest cliff you know. And imagine yourself looking down to the very bottom. And then imagine that the precipice goes on below that, as far again, ten times as far, twenty times as far. And when you’ve looked down all that distance imagine little white things that might, at first glance, be mistaken for sheep, but presently you realize that they are clouds—not little wreaths of mist but the enormous white, puffy clouds which are themselves as big as most mountains. And at last, in between those clouds, you get your first glimpse of the real bottom, so far away that you can’t make out whether it’s field or wood, or land or water: further below those clouds than you are above them.
Jill stared at it. Then she thought that perhaps, after all, she would step back a foot or so from the edge; but she didn’t like to for fear of what Scrubb would think. Then she suddenly decided that she didn’t care what he thought, and that she would jolly well get away from that horrible edge and never laugh at anyone for not liking heights again. But when she tried to move, she found she couldn’t. Her legs seemed to have turned into putty. Everything was swimming before her eyes.
“What are you doing, Pole? Come back—blithering little idiot!” shouted Scrubb. But his voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. She felt him grabbing at her. But by now she had no control over her own arms and legs. There was a moment’s struggling on the cliff edge. Jill was too frightened and dizzy to know quite what she was doing, but two things she remembered as long as she lived (they often came back to her in dreams). One was that she had wrenched herself free of Scrubb’s clutches; the other was that, at the same moment, Eustace himself, with a terrified scream, had lost his balance and gone hurtling to the depths.
Fortunately, she was given no time to think over what she had done. Some huge, brightly coloured animal had rushed to the edge of the cliff. It was lying down, leaning over, and (this was the odd thing) blowing. Not roaring or snorting, but just blowing from its wide—opened mouth; blowing out as steadily as a vacuum cleaner sucks in. Jill was lying so close to the creature that she could feel the breath vibrating steadily through its body. She was lying still because she couldn’t get up. She was nearly fainting; indeed, she wished she could really faint, but faints don’t come for the asking. At last she saw, far away below her, a tiny black speck floating away from the cliff and slightly upwards. As it rose, it also got farther away. By the time it was nearly on a level with the cliff—top it was so far off that she lost sight of it. It was obviously moving away from them at a great speed. Jill couldn’t help thinking that the creature at her side was blowing it away.
So she turned and looked at the creature. It was a lion.
那是一个多云暗淡的秋日，吉尔·珀尔正在体育馆后边哭泣。
她之所以哭泣，是因为有些人一直在欺负她。这不是一个关于学校的故事，所以我要尽量少讲她的学校，那可不是一个令人愉快的题目。这是一所男女学生共同接受教育的学校，过去称之为“混合型”的学校。有人说，男女学生的混合还比不上办学者内心的混乱。校方的想法是，应该允许男女孩子们想做什么就做什么。不幸的是，有那么十多个大男生和大女生最喜欢做的，就是欺负别人。各种各样可怕的事情，如果发生在一所普通的学校，不到半个学期就会被发现，并且加以制止。但在这所学校却不是这样，即使这些坏事被人发现了，干坏事的学生也不会被开除或者受到惩处。校长说，这是一些很有趣的心理学个案，于是就把那些孩子找来，跟他们谈上几个钟头。如果你能够投其所好，说一些校长最爱听的话，结果你就成会成为校长的红人。
这正是为什么在那个阴郁的秋日，吉尔·珀尔站在一条潮湿的小路上哭泣的原因。那条小路位于体育馆后面和一个灌木丛之间。吉尔还在那里伤心流泪的时候，突然有个男孩子冒了出来。他两手插在口袋里，嘴里吹着口哨，转过体育馆的拐角，差一点跟她撞了个满怀。
“你走路怎么不看着点儿？”吉尔·珀尔说。
“好吧，”男孩子说，“你没有必要——”这时，他注意到她脸上的泪痕。“喂，珀尔，”他问道，“怎么回事？”
吉尔只是做了个鬼脸，没有回答。当你想说某件事，却发现自己一开口，又会忍不住哭起来时，往往就会做这种鬼脸。
“又是他们，我猜——像往常一样。”男孩子绷着脸说道，把双手往口袋深处伸了伸。
吉尔点点头。即便她能够讲话，也没有必要再说了，他们两个都心知肚明。
“喂，听我说，”男孩子说道，“那毫无益处——”
他的用意是好的，可是他说话的语气的确很像是要教训人。吉尔突然间大动肝火（正如你哭泣时被人打断，你往往会发脾气一样）。
“哦，走开，别管闲事，”她说，“谁也没请你来多嘴多舌，是吧？你倒是个好人，教训我们应该怎么做，是吧？我猜你的意思是说，我们应当随时随地拍他们的马屁，巴结他们，像你那样去讨好他们。”
“啊，天哪！”男孩子说着，在灌木丛边长满青草的斜坡上坐了下来，但他立马又站了起来，因为青草上湿漉漉的。很不巧，他的名字叫尤斯塔斯·斯克拉布a，其实他不是一个坏孩子。
a 在英语中，斯克拉布有矮小低劣的意思。——译者注
“珀尔！”他说道，“你这话公平吗？这个学期我做过这样的事吗？就说那只兔子，我难道没有出来抵制卡特吗？难道我没有替司丕文保守秘密——而且还受到折磨？难道我——”
“我不—不知道，我也不管那么多。”吉尔抽噎着说。
斯克拉布看出来，她的情绪还没有恢复正常，就善解人意地递给她一颗薄荷糖。他自己也吃了一颗。很快，吉尔就开始比较清醒地看待事物了。
“对不起，斯克拉布，”过了一会儿，她说，“我刚才不太公平。你的确做了那些事——这个学期。”
“如果可以的话，就忘掉上个学期，”尤斯塔斯说，“那时，我和现在不一样。我曾经是——嘿！我那时真是个小讨厌鬼。”
“嗯，说实在的，你那时真的很让人讨厌。”吉尔说。
“你觉得我有所改变，对吧？”尤斯塔斯说。
“不单是我，”吉尔说，“大家都在这么说。就连他们都注意到了。昨天，埃利诺·布拉吉斯顿在衣帽间听见阿黛拉·潘尼法热在议论此事。她说：‘有人控制住了斯克拉布家的那个小崽子。这个学期他相当不听话。下一回我们必须好好地修理他。’”
尤斯塔斯打了个寒战。在实验学校，每个人都明白被他们“修理”意味着什么。
两个孩子安静了片刻。月桂树叶子上的露珠啪嗒啪嗒地在往下滴落。
“这个学期你为什么大变样了呢？”隔了一会儿，吉尔问道。
“假期里我遇到了许多古怪的事情。”尤斯塔斯神秘兮兮地说。
“都是什么样的事情呢？”吉尔问道。
沉默了好久，尤斯塔斯才答道：“听着，珀尔，你和我都无比痛恨这个地方，没错吧？”
“我知道我恨这个地方。”吉尔说。
“我真的认为，我可以信任你。”
“你实在是太好了。”吉尔说。
“不错，这真的是一个天大的秘密。珀尔，听着，你是不是轻易就会相信一些事情呢？我指的是，在这里大家都会嘲笑的事情？”
“我从来没有这样的机会，”吉尔说，“但我想，我会相信的。”
“如果我说，我曾经离开过这个世界——到了这个世界的外边——在暑假时，你会相信我吗？”
“我不明白你是什么意思。”
“好吧，我们先不去管那些世界了。假如我告诉你，我曾经到过一个地方，那里的动物会说话，那里有——嗯——魔法和龙——还有——呃，你在童话中读到的各种各样的事物。”说这话的时候，斯克拉布感到异常难堪，脸涨得通红。
“你是怎么到那里去的呢？”吉尔说，她也感到莫名的羞怯。
“你只能藉着一种方式——那就是魔法，”尤斯塔斯用近乎耳语的声音说道，“我当时跟两个表兄表姐在一起。我们就那样——‘嗖’的一下子就过去了。他们以前去过那里。”
由于他们是在悄声低语，吉尔不知怎的觉得比较容易相信。倏忽之间，她的心头掠过一个巨大的疑问，于是她说（声色俱厉，那一刻她看上去活像一只母老虎）：
“如果我发现你是在骗我的话，我就再也不搭理你了。决不，决不，决不。”
“我没有，”尤斯塔斯说，“我发誓我没有。我指着——指着所有的一切起誓。”
（我上学时，有人会说，“我指着《圣经》起誓。”但在实验学校里，他们并不鼓励学生读《圣经》。）
“行啦，”吉尔说，“我就相信你吧。”
“能不告诉任何人吗？”
“你把我当成什么人啦？”
说到这里，两个人都非常激动。但是，既然话已经说出来了，吉尔四处打量了一下，看到了阴沉沉的秋季的天空，听到了树叶上露水滴落的声音，想起了实验学校里所有无望的事情（一个学期有十三周，还有漫长的十一周），她说：
“但说到底，那又有什么用处呢？我们并不在那儿，而是在这里。我们肯定去不了那里。我们能去吗？”
“那正是我一直在考虑的问题，”尤斯塔斯说，“我们从那里返回来的时候，有人说，珀文西家的两个孩子（指的是我的两个表兄表姐）再也回不去了。你要明白，那是他们的第三次了。我猜，他们的次数已经满了。可他并没有说我不能去。当然，他的言下之意是我能够返回，否则他绝不会这么说，对吧？我忍不住要猜想，我们能否——我们是否能够——？”
“你是说，做点什么来促使其发生？”
尤斯塔斯点了点头。
“你的意思是，我们可以在地上画个圆圈——在里面用奇怪的字母写些东西——站到中间——念一些咒语之类的？”
“好吧，”尤斯塔斯努力考虑了一阵子，说道，“我相信，自己一直思考的就是这一类的事情，尽管从未付诸实施。现在既然说到这里了，我觉得所有那些画圈念咒之类的想法都是胡说八道。我认为他不会喜欢的。看上去那就像是我们可以吩咐他做事情。说真格的，我们只能祈求他。”
“你一个劲儿在说的这个人是谁呀？”
“在那个地方，他们管他叫阿斯兰。”尤斯塔斯说。
“多么奇怪的名字！”
“一点儿也不比他本人更奇怪，”尤斯塔斯郑重其事地说，“让我们继续往下说。只是向他祈求，不会带来任何害处。让我们并排站好，就像这样。将手臂向前伸出，手心朝下，就像他们在拉曼都的岛屿上——”
“谁的岛屿？”
“下次我再给你讲那个故事。他也许喜欢我们脸朝着东方。我们来看看，哪边是东方？”
“我不知道。”吉尔说。
“女孩子们真是非比寻常，她们从来都搞不清楚指南针的方向。”尤斯塔斯说。
“你也搞不清楚。”吉尔气愤地说。
“不，我能搞清楚，你别一个劲儿地打岔了。我这会儿明白了。那是东方，面对着月桂树。呃，你愿意跟我一起来说吗？”
“说些什么？”吉尔问道。
“当然是我打算说的话，”尤斯塔斯回答，“行了——”
于是他开口说道：“阿斯兰，阿斯兰，阿斯兰！”
“阿斯兰，阿斯兰，阿斯兰。”吉尔跟着他重复道。
“请让我们两个进入——”
就在这时，他们听到体育馆另一边有一个声音在大叫：“珀尔？是的，我知道她在哪儿。她正在体育馆后面哭天抹泪呢。我去把她给揪出来吧？”
吉尔和尤斯塔斯互相看了对方一眼，弯腰钻入月桂树丛，开始攀爬陡峭的、长着灌木的土坡，速度之快，很值得称道。（多亏实验学校奇特的教学方法，学生们对于法语、数学、拉丁文，或者诸如此类的东西知之甚少，但是当坏孩子们找你的茬儿的时候，你倒是精通许多快速悄悄溜走的办法。）
大约攀爬了一分钟，他们停下脚步，竖起耳朵仔细倾听，根据乱糟糟的声音判断，有人跟在他们的后边。
“如果那扇门开着就好啦！”一边爬坡，斯克拉布一边说着，吉尔点头表示赞同。就在灌木丛的顶上有一道高高的石墙，墙上留有一扇门。从那扇门出去，你就可以来到开阔的荒野。这扇门差不多总是锁着的。但偶尔有那么一次，孩子们发现门被打开了。你可以想象得到，即便是那一次的记忆，也会使人满怀希望，不时去查看一下那扇门。假如门碰巧没有上锁，那将是一个不被人觉察走出校园的绝佳方式。
由于吉尔和斯克拉布必须弯着腰在月桂树下爬坡，上到墙那里时，两个人都跑热了，身上也脏兮兮的，他们大口喘着粗气。那扇门，像往常一样关闭着。
“肯定不管用。”尤斯塔斯说着，伸手抓住门的拉手。接着是一声“哦—哦，上帝保佑！”拉手应声转动，门居然打开了。
刚才，他们两个还在想着，假如门碰巧没有锁的话，他们就赶紧跑出去。现在门真的打开了，他俩反而一动不动地站在那里。因为他们看到的景色与自己的期盼截然相反。
他们期待着看到长满石南的灰色荒原蜿蜒起伏，与阴暗的秋日长空浑然连成一体。结果扑面而来的却是一片灿烂的阳光。阳光从门口倾泻进来，就像是六月的骄阳一下子涌进了车库。阳光使草上的露水像玻璃珠一样晶莹闪烁，照亮了吉尔满是泪痕的、脏兮兮的小脸。阳光看上去真的好像来自一个完全不同的世界——根据他们所能看到的来判断。他们看见平坦的草地，比吉尔以前所见过的更加平整，更加明亮。蓝蓝的天空，还有一些明亮的东西，就像是珠宝或者巨大的蝴蝶，在飞来飞去。
虽然一直渴望见到这样的景象，吉尔还是感到恐惧。她看了看斯克拉布的脸，发现他也很害怕。
“来吧，珀尔。”他屏住呼吸说道。
“我们还能回来吗？这安全吗？”吉尔问道。
就在这一刻，后面有一个声音喊了起来，一个恶意的、怀着仇恨的微弱声音。“得啦，珀尔，”那声音尖利地叫道，“谁都知道你在那里。下来吧。”那是伊迪丝·杰克尔的声音，她不是那伙儿人中的一员，但却是他们的追随者和告密者。
“快点儿！”斯克拉布说，“这里。拉着手。我们一定不要分开。”
她还没有弄明白是怎么一回事儿，他便一把抓住她的手，把她拉过那扇门，离开了校园，离开了英国，离开了我们的世界，进入到了另外一个世界。
伊迪丝·杰克尔的声音突然消失了，就像是关掉了收音机，里面突然没有了声音。立刻他们就被不同的声音所包围。这声音来自头顶上飞舞的那些明亮的东西，原来那是一些鸟儿。鸟儿叽叽喳喳叫个不停，那叫声更像是音乐——相当高深的音乐，乍一听，你很难完全领会——不同于我们世界中的鸟儿的歌声。尽管鸟儿在歌唱，其背景却是某种深邃的静谧。那种静谧，与清新的空气混合在一起，使得吉尔认为，他们一定是站在一座高山之巅。
斯克拉布依然拉着她的手，他们一边迈步向前，一边环视着周围。吉尔看到四面八方生长着参天的树木，很像是雪松，但是更加高大。树木长得非常分散，加上没有灌木，使人可以看得很远，望见左右两边的森林。吉尔极目远眺，只见到处都是一个模样——平坦的草地、漫天飞舞的长着黄色、蜻蜓蓝色、以及彩虹色羽毛的鸟儿、蓝色的阴影和空旷的原野。凉爽而明亮的空气中没有一丝风。这是一个异常寂寞的森林。
正前方没有树木，只见蔚蓝的天空。他们默不作声，一直向前走，突然吉尔听到斯克拉布说道：“小心！”并感到自己猛地向后倒退了两步。他们正站在一个悬崖的边缘。
吉尔属于那些幸运的人，她没有恐高症，即使站在悬崖边上也毫不在意。斯克拉布把她往后拉，她感到相当气恼——“好像我还是个小孩子似的”，说着——她把自己的手从他手中使劲挣脱出来。看到他脸上面无人色，她很瞧不起他。
“怎么回事？”她说。为了显示自己不害怕，她紧挨着悬崖边站立，事实上，比她想要站的地方还要靠边儿。然后她朝下面望去。
这时她才意识到，斯克拉布脸色惨白有一定的道理。因为在我们的世界，没有哪个悬崖可以与这一个相提并论。想象一下，你正站在你所知道的最高悬崖的顶端。再想象你望着那深不可测的谷底。然后进一步想象，你把那个悬崖拉长，深了十倍，二十倍。你朝着万丈深渊望去，初看之下，你也许会将那些小小的白色东西误认为羊群，但很快你就会意识到，那些原来是云朵——不是小块雾团，而是体积庞大的白色云团，云团本身与大多数山岭的大小不相上下。最后，透过这些云团的缝隙，你才真正瞥见了谷底。谷底看上去那么遥远，甚至你看不出来，下面到底是田野还是树林，是土地还是水潭。谷底距离云团要比你和云团的距离远得多。
吉尔目不转睛地凝视着。随即她想到，自己也许应该从悬崖边往后倒退一两步。但她又不愿意这么做，担心斯克拉布会怎么想她。这时，她突然决定，自己并不在乎他的想法，一定要离开那个可怕的悬崖边，今后再也不去嘲笑恐高的人了。她试着往后移动，却发现自己动不了了。她的两条腿似乎变成了泥灰。一切东西都在她的眼前旋转起来。
“你在做什么，珀尔？退回来——胡言乱语的小傻瓜！”斯克拉布叫道。但他的声音听上去来自很远的地方。她感到他一把抓住了自己。可是现在她已经无法控制自己的四肢。他们在悬崖边上挣扎了一会儿。吉尔吓坏了，头脑晕晕乎乎的，不清楚自己在做些什么，但有两件事使她终生难忘（她经常在梦中忆起）。一个是她甩开了斯克拉布的手。另一个是在这时，尤斯塔斯惊恐地尖叫了一声，随即失去了平衡，一头从悬崖上摔了下去。
幸好，她还没来得及考虑自己到底做了些什么。一头色彩鲜艳的巨型动物冲到了悬崖边上。它卧了下来，向前探出身子，用嘴吹起气来（这真是怪事），而不是咆哮或者喷鼻息。它张开大嘴，持续不断地吹着，就像吸尘器一样不停地工作着。吉尔倒在地上，离那个动物很近，她可以感觉到，气息在它的体内连续不断地震颤。她躺在地上一动不动，因为她爬不起来。她几乎要晕厥了。的确，她希望自己真的能够晕厥，但那不是随便想想就能做到的。末了她看到，在遥远的悬崖下边，有一个小黑点在漂浮着，一点点向上飘升，而且也飘得越来越远，最后看不见了。显然，黑点是以极快的速度离开他们的。吉尔不由自主地想到，是自己身边的这个动物把它吹走的。
于是，她转过头来，看着那个动物。那是一头狮子。