At t h a t m o m e n t s h e h e a r d s o f t ， h e a v y f o o t f a l l s coming along the corridor behind her； and of course she remembered what she had been told about the Magician walking in his bare feet and making no more noise than a cat. It is always better to turn round than to have anything creeping up behind your back. Lucy did so.
Then her face lit up till， for a moment （but of course she didn‘t know it）， she looked almost as beautiful as that other Lucy in the picture， and she ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out. For what stood in the doorway was Aslan himself， The Lion， the highest of all High Kings. And he was solid and real and warm and he let her kiss him and bury herself in his shining mane. And from the low， earthquake.like sound that came from inside him， Lucy even dared to think that he was purring.
“Oh， Aslan，” said she， “it was kind of you to come.”
“I have been here all the time，” said he， “but you have just made me visible.”
“Aslan！” said Lucy almost a little reproachfully. “Don’t make fun of me. As if anything could do would make you visible！”
“It did，” said Aslan. “Do you think I wouldn‘t obey my own rules？”
After a little pause he spoke again.
