“And since then， O Kings and Ladies， I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels， that he called me Beloved， me who am but as a dog-”
“Eh？ What’s that？” said one of the Dogs.
“Sir，” said Emeth. “It is but a fashion of speech which we have in Calormen.”
“Well， I can‘t say it’s one I like very much，” said the Dog.
“He doesn‘t mean any harm，” said an older Dog. “After all， we call our puppies Boys when they don’t behave properly.”
“So we do，” said the first Dog. “Or girls.”
“S-s-sh！” said the Old Dog. “That‘s not a nice word to use. Remember where you are.”
“Look！” said Jill suddenly. Someone was coming， rather timidly， to meet them； a graceful creature on four feet， all silvery-grey. And they stared at him for a whole ten seconds before five or six voices said all at once， “Why， it’s old Puzzle！” They had never seen him by daylight with the lion-skin off， and it made an extraordinary difference. He was himself now： a beautiful donkey with such a soft， grey coat and such a gentle， honest face that if you had seen him you would have done just what Jill and Lucy did-rushed forward and put your arms round his neck and kissed his nose and stroked his ears.
When they asked him where he had been he said he had come in at the door along with all the other creatures but he had-well， to tell the truth， he had been keeping out of their way as much as he could； and out of Aslan‘s way. For the sight of the real Lion had made him so ashamed of all that nonsense about dressing up in a lion-skin that
he did not know how to look anyone in the face. But when he saw that all his friends were going away Westward， and after he had had a mouthful of grass （“And I’ve never tasted such good grass in my life，” said Puzzle）， he plucked up his courage and followed. “But what I‘ll do if I really have to meet Aslan， I’m sure I don‘t know，” he added.
“You’ll find it will be all right when you really do，” said Queen Lucy. Then they went forward together， always Westward， for that seemed to be the direction Aslan had meant when he cried out， “Further up and futher in.” Many other creatures were slowly moving the same way， but that grassy country was very wide and there was nocrowding.
It still seemed to be early， and the morning freshness was in the air. They kept on stopping to look round and to look behind them， partly because it was so beautiful but partly also because there was something about it which they could not understand.
“Peter，” said Lucy， “where is this， do you suppose？”
“I don‘t know，” said the High King. “It reminds me of somewhere but I can’t give it a name. Could it be somewhere we once stayed for a holiday when we were very， very small？”
“It would have to have been a jolly good holiday，” said Eustace. “I bet there isn‘t a country like this anywhere in our world. Look at the colours！ You couldn’t get a blue like the blue on those mountains in our world.”
“Is it not Aslan‘s country？” said Tirian.
“Not like Aslan’s country on top of that mountain beyond the eastern end of the world，” said Jill. “I‘ve been there.”
“If you ask me，” said Edmund， “it’s like somewhere in the Narnian world. Look at those mountains ahead-and the big ice-mountains beyond them. Surely they‘re rather like the mountains we used to see from Narnia， the ones up Westward beyond the Waterfall？”
“Yes， so they are，” said Peter. “Only these are bigger.”
“I don’t think those ones are so very like anything in Narnia，” said Lucy. “But look there.” She pointed Southward to their left， and everyone stopped and turned to look. “Those hills，” said Lucy， “thenice woody ones and the blue ones behind-aren‘t they very like the southern border of Narnia？”
“Like！” cried Edmund after a moment’s silence. “Why， they‘re exactly like. Look， there’s Mount Pire with his forked head， and there‘s the pass into Archenland and everything！”
“And yet they’re not like，” said Lucy. “They‘re different. They have more colours on them and they look further away than I remembered and they’re more... more... oh， I don‘t know...”
“More like the real thing，” said the Lord Digory softly.
Suddenly Farsight the Eagle spread his wings， soared thirty or forty feet up into the air， circled round and then alighted on the ground.
“Kings and Queens，” he cried， “we have all been blind. We are only beginning to see where we are. From up there I have seen it all- Ettinsmuir， Beaversdam， the Great River， and Cair Paravel still shining on the edge of the Eastern Sea. Narnia is not dead. This is Narnia.”
“But how can it be？” said Peter. “For Aslan told us older ones that we should never return to Narnia， and here we are.”
“Yes，” said Eustace. “And we saw it all destroyed and the sun put out.”
“And it’s all so different，” said Lucy.
“The Eagle is right，” said the Lord Digory. “Listen， Peter. When Aslan said you could never go back to Narnia， he meant the Narnia you were thinking of. But that was not the real Narnia. That had a beginning and an end. It was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia which has always been here and always will be here： just as our world， England and all， is only a shadow or copy of something in Aslan‘s real world. You need not mourn over Narnia， Lucy. All of the old Narnia that mattered， all the dear creatures， have been drawn into the real Narnia through the Door. And of course it is different； as different as a real thing is from a shadow or as waking life is from a dream.”
His voice stirred everyone like a trumpet as he spoke these words： but when he added under his breath “It’s all in Plato， all in Plato： bless me， what do they teach them at these schools！” the older ones laughed.
It was so exactly like the sort of thing they had heard him say long ago in that other world where his beard was grey instead of golden. He knew why they were laughing and joined in the laugh himself. But very quickly they all became grave again： for， as you know， there is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious. It is too good to waste on jokes.
