CHAPTER FOURTEEN HOW ALL WERE VERY BUSY（第3/4頁）

They reached the river，but there was no bridge．It had disappeared since yesterday．Then utter panic and horror fell upon them and they all surrendered．

But what had happened to the bridge？

Early that morning，after a few hours’ sleep，the girls had waked，to see Aslan standing over them and to hear his voice saying，“We will make holiday．”They rubbed their eyes and looked round them．The trees had all gone but could still be seen moving away toward Aslan’s How in a dark mass．Bacchus and the Maenads—his fierce，madcap girls—and Silenus were still with them．Lucy，fully rested，jumped up．Everyone was awake，everyone was laughing，flutes were playing，cymbals clashing．Animals，not Talking Animals，were crowding in upon them from every direction．

“What is it，Aslan？”said Lucy，her eyes dancing and her feet wanting to dance．

“Come，children，”said he．“Ride on my back again today．”

“Oh，lovely！”cried Lucy，and both girls climbed on to the warm golden back as they had done no one knew how many years before．Then the whole party moved off—Aslan leading，Bacchus and his Maenads leaping，rushing，and turning somersaults，the beasts frisking round them，and Silenus and his donkey bringing up the rear．

They turned a little to the right，raced down a steep hill，and found the long Bridge of Beruna in front of them．Before they had begun to cross it，however，up out of the water came a great wet，bearded head，larger than a man’s，crowned with rushes．It looked at Aslan and out of its mouth a deep voice came．

“Hail，Lord，”it said．“Loose my chains．”

“Who on earth is that？”whispered Susan．

“I think it’s the river-god，but hush，”said Lucy．

“Bacchus，”said Aslan．“Deliver him from his chains．”

“That means the bridge，I expect，”thought Lucy．And so it did．Bacchus and his people splashed forward into the shallow water，and a minute later the most curious things began happening．Great，strong trunks of ivy came curling up all the piers of the bridge，growing as quickly as a fire grows，wrapping the stones round，splitting，breaking，separating them．The walls of the bridge turned into hedges gay with hawthorn for a moment and then disappeared as the whole thing with a rush and a rumble collapsed into the swirling water．With much splashing，screaming，and laughter the revellers waded or swam or danced across the ford (“Hurrah ！ It’s the Ford of Beruna again now ！”cried the girls) and up the bank on the far side and into the town．

Everyone in the streets fled before their faces．The first house they came to was a school: a girls’ school，where lot of Narnian girls，with their hair done very tight and ugly tight collars round their necks and thick tickly stockings on their legs，were having a history lesson．The sort of“History”that was taught in Narnia under Miraz’s rule was duller than the truest history you ever read and less true than the most exciting adventure story．

“If you don’t attend，Gwendolen，”said the mistress，and stop looking out of the window，I shall have to give you an order-mark.

“But please，Miss Prizzle—”began Gwendolen．

“Did you hear what I said，Gwendolen？”asked Miss Prizzle．

“But please，Miss Prizzle，”said Gwendolen，“there’s a LION！”

“Take two order-marks for talking nonsense，”said Miss Prizzle．“And now—”A roar interrupted her．Ivy came curling in at the windows of the classroom．The walls became a mass of shimmering green，and leafy branches arched overhead where the ceiling had been．Miss Prizzle found she was standing on grass in a forest glade．She clutched at her desk to steady herself，and found that the desk was a rose-bush．Wild people such as she had never even imagined were crowding round her．Then she saw the Lion，screamed and fled，and with her fled her class，who were mostly dumpy，prim little girls with fat legs．Gwendolen hesitated．

“You’ll stay with us，sweetheart？”said Aslan．

“Oh，may I？ Thank you，thank you，”said Gwendolen．Instantly she joined hands with two of the Maenads，who whirled her round in a merry dance and helped her take off some of the unnecessary and uncomfortable clothes that she was wearing．

Wherever they went in the little town of Beruna it was the same．Most of the people fled，a few joined them．When they left the town they were a larger and a merrier company．

They swept on across the level fields on the north bank，or left bank，of the river．At every farm animals came out to join them．Sad old donkeys who had never known joy grew suddenly young again; chained dogs broke their chains; horses kicked their carts to pieces and came trotting along with them—clop—clop—kicking up the mud and whinnying．

At a well in a yard they met a man who was beating a boy．The stick burst into flower in the man’s hand．He tried to drop it，but it stuck to his hand．His arm became a branch，his body the trunk of a tree，his feet took root．The boy，who had been crying a moment before，burst out laughing and joined them．