And you remember all the sad and beautiful things you have ever seen or heard, and you fall down on the ground and hide your face in your hands and call on the oracle, and if you are the right sort of person the oracle answers you.
Lucy and Mr.Noah waited in the dark for the voice of the oracle, and at last it spoke.

Lucy heard no words, only the most beautiful voice in the world speaking softly, and so sweetly and finely and bravely that at once she felt herself brave enough to dare any danger, and strong enough to do any deed that might be needed to get Philip out of the clutches of the base Pretenderette.

All the tiredness of her long journey faded away, and but for the thought that Philip needed her, she would have been content to listen for ever to that golden voice.

Everything else in the world faded away and grew to seem worthless and unmeaning.

Only the soft golden voice remained and the grey hard voice that said, 'You've got to look after Philip, you know!' And the two voices together made a harmony more beautiful than you will find in any of Beethoven's sonatas.
Because Lucy knew that she should follow the grey voice, and remember the golden voice as long as she lived.
But something was tiresomely pulling at her sleeve, dragging her away from the wonderful golden voice.