The relief which Edmund felt was so great that in spite of the cold he suddenly got warm all over right down to his toes， and at the same time there came into his head what seemed a perfectly lovely idea. “Probably，” he thought， “this is the great Lion Aslan that they were all talking about. She‘s caught him already and turned him into stone. So that’s the end of all their fine ideas about him！ Pooh！ Who‘s afraid of Aslan？”
And he stood there gloating over the stone lion， and presently he did something very silly and childish. Hetook a stump of lead pencil out of his pocket and scribbled a moustache on the lion’s upper lip and then a pair of spectacles on its eyes. Then he said， “Yah！ Silly old Aslan！ How do you like being a stone？ You thought yourself mighty fine， didn‘t you？” But in spite of the scribbles on it the face of the great stone beast still looked so terrible， and sad， and noble， staring up in the moonlight， that Edmund didn’t really get any fun out of jeering at it. He turned away and began to cross the courtyard.
