“I will say the spell，” said Lucy. “I don‘t care. I will.” She said I don’t care because she had a strong feeling that she mustn‘t.
But when she looked back at the opening words of the spell， there in the middle of the writing， where she felt quite sure there had been no picture before， she found the great face of a lion， of The Lion， Aslan himself， staring into hers. It was painted such a bright gold that it seemed to be coming towards her out of the page； and indeed she never was quite sure afterwards that it hadn’t really moved a little. At any rate she knew the expression on his face quite well. He was growling and you could see most of his teeth. She became horribly afraid and turned over the page at once.
A little later she came to a spell which would let you know what your friends thought about you. Now Lucy had wanted very badly to try the other spell， the one that made you beautiful beyond the lot of mortals. So she felt that to make up for not having said it， she really would say this one. And all in a hurry， for fear her mind would change， she said the words （nothing will induce me to tell you what they were）. Then she waited for something to happen.