When once Aslan had been tied （and tied so that he was really a mass of cords） on the flat stone， a hush fell on the crowd. Four Hags， holding four torches， stood at the corners of the Table. The Witch bared her arms as she had bared them the previous night when it had been Edmund instead of Aslan. Then she began to whet her knife. It looked to the children， when the gleam of the torchlight fell on it， as if the knife were made of stone， not of steel， and it was of a strange and evil shape.
As last she drew near. She stood by Aslan‘s head. Her face was working and twitching with passion， but his looked up at the sky， still quiet， neither angry nor afraid， but a little sad. Then， just before she gave the blow， she stooped down and said in a quivering voice，“And now， who has won？ Fool， did you think that by all this you would save the human traitor？ Now I will kill you instead of him as our pact was and so the Deep Magic will be appeased. But when you are dead what will prevent me from killing him as well？ And who will take him out of my hand then？ Understand that you have given me Narnia forever， you have lost your own life and you have not saved his. In that knowledge， despair and die.”
