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chater furteen the begng f the end f the wrld（第1页）

Slowlythedooropenedagainandouttherecameafigureastallandstraightasthegirl’sbutnotsoslender．Itcarriednolightbutlightseemedtocomefromit．Asitcamenearer，Lucysawthatitwaslikeanoldman．Hissilverbeardcamedowntohisbarefeetinfrontandhissaverhairhungdowntohisheelsbehindandhisrobeappearedtobemadefromthefleeceofsilversheep．Helookedsomildandgravethatoncemoreallthetravellersrosetotheirfeetandstoodinsilence．

Buttheoldmancameonwithoutspeakingtothetravellersandstoodontheothersideofthetableoppositetohisdaughter．Thenbothofthemhelduptheirarmsbeforethemandturnedtofacetheeast．Inthatpositionthebegantosing．IwishIcouldwritedownthesong，butonewhowaspresentcouldrememberit．Lucysaidafterwardsthatitwashigh，almostshrill，butverybeautiful，coldkindofsong，anearlymorningkindofsong．Andtheysang，thegreycloudsliftedfromtheeasternskyathewhitepatchesgrewbiggerandbiggertillitwaswhite，andtheseabegantoshinelikesilver．Andlongafterwards（butthosetwosangallthetime）theeastbegantoturnredandatlast，unclouded，thesuncameupouttheseaanditslonglevelrayshotdownthelengthofthetableonthegoldandsilversandontheStoneKnife．

Onceortwicebefore，theNarnianshadwonderedwhetherthesunatitsrisingdidnotlookbiggerintheseseasthanithadlookedathome．Thistimetheywecertain．Therewasnomistakingit．Andthebrightnessitsrayonthedewandonthetablewasfarbeyondan．morningbrightnesstheyhadeverseen．AndasEdmusaidafterwards，“Thoughlotsofthingshappenedonthattripwhichsoundmoreexciting，thatmomentwasreallythemostexciting．”FornowtheyknewthattheyhadtrulycometothebeginningoftheEndoftheWorld．

Thensomethingseemedtobeflyingatthemoutoftheverycentreoftherisingsun：butofcourseonecouldn’tlooksteadilyinthatdirectiontomakesure．Butpresentlytheairbecamefullofvoices-voiceswhichtookupsamesongthattheLadyandherFatherweresinging，butinfarwildertonesandinalanguagewhichnooneknewAndsoonafterthattheownersofthesevoicescouldbeseen．Theywerebirds，largeandwhite，andtheycamehundredsandthousandsandalightedoneverything；thegrass，andthepavement，onthetable，onyourshoulders，yourhands，andyourhead，tillitlookedasheavysnowhadfallen．For，likesnow，theynotonlymakeeverythingwhitebutblurredandbluntedallshapes．ButLucy，lookingoutfrombetweenthewingsofthebirdsthatcoveredher，sawonebirdflytotheOldManwithsomethinginitsbeakthatlookedlikealittlefruit，unlessitwasalittlelivecoal，whichitmighthavebeen，foritwastoobrighttolookat．AndthebirdlaiditintheOldMan’smouth．

Thenthebirdsstoppedtheirsingingandappearedtobeverybusyaboutthetable．Whentheyrosefromitagaineverythingonthetablethatcouldbeeatenordrunkhaddisappeared．Thesebirdsrosefromtheirmealintheirthousandsandhundredsandcarriedawayallthethingsthatcouldnotbeeatenordrunk，suchasbones，rinds，andshells，andtooktheirflightbacktotherisingsun．Butnow，becausetheywerenotsinging，thewhiroftheirwingsseemedtosetthewholeaira-tremble．Andtherewasthetablepeckedcleanandempty，andthethreeoldLordsofNarniastillfastasleep．

NowatlasttheOldManturnedtothetravellersandbadethemwelcome．

“Sir，”saidCaspian，“willyoutellushowtoundotheenchantmentwhichholdsthesethreeNarnianLordsasleep．”

“Iwillgladlytellyouthat，myson，”saidtheOldMan．“TobreakthisenchantmentyoumustsailtotheWorld’sEnd，orasnearasyoucancometoit，andyoumustcomebackhavingleftatleastoneofyourcompanybehind．”

“Andwhatmusthappentothatone？”askedReepicheep．

“Hemustgoonintotheuttereastandneverreturnintotheworld．”

“Thatismyheart’sdesire，”saidReepicheep．

“AndareweneartheWorld’sEndnow，Sir？”askedCaspian.“Haveyouanyknowledgeoftheseasandlandsfurthereastthanthis？”

“Isawthemlongago，”saidtheOldMan，“butitwasfromagreatheight．Icannottellyousuchthingsassailorneedtoknow．”

“Doyoumeanyouwereflyingintheair？”Eustaceblurtedout．

“Iwasalongwayabovetheair，myson，”repliedtheOldMan．“IamRamandu．ButIseethatyoustareatonanotherandhavenotheardthisname．Andnowonder，forthedayswhenIwasastarhadceasedlongbeforeanyofyouknewthisworld，andalltheconstellationshavechanged．”

“Golly，”saidEdmundunderhisbreath．“He’saretiredstar．”

“Aren’tyouastaranylonger？”askedLucy．

“Iamastaratrest，mydaughter，”answeredRamandu

“WhenIsetforthelasttime，decrepitandoldbeyondallthatyoucanreckon，Iwascarriedtothisisland．IamnotsooldnowasIwasthen．Everymorningabirdbringsmeafire-berryfromthevalleysintheSun，andeachfire-berrytakesawayalittleofmyage．AndwhenIhavebecomeasyoungasthechildthatwasbornyesterday，thenIshalltakemyrisingagain（forweareatearth’seasternrim）andoncemoretreadthegreatdance．”

“Inourworld，”saidEustace，“astarisahugeballofflaminggas．”

“Eveninyourworld，myson，thatisnotwhatastarisbutonlywhatitismadeof．Andinthisworldyouavealreadymetastar，forIthinkyouhavebeenwithCoriakin．”

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