nothing else to be expected but that, the next moment, he would

fetch his great club down, slam bang, and smash the vessel into
a thousand pieces, without heeding how many innocent people he

might destroy; for there is seldom any mercy in a giant, you
know, and quite as little in a piece of brass clockwork. But

just when Theseus and his companions thought the blow was
coming, the brazen lips unclosed themselves, and the figure

spoke.
"Whence come you, strangers?"

And when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a
reverberation as you may have heard within a great church bell,

for a moment or two after the stroke of the hammer.
"From Athens!" shouted the master in reply.

"On what errand?" thundered the Man of Brass.
And he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as

if he were about to smite them with a thunderstroke right
amidships, because Athens, so little while ago, had been at war

with Crete.
"We bring the seven youths and the seven maidens," answered the

master, "to be devoured by the Minotaur!"
"Pass!" cried the brazen giant.

That one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there
was a booming reverberation within the figure's breast. The

vessel glided between the headlands of the port, and the giant
resumed his march. In a few moments, this wondroussentinel was

far away, flashing in the distant sunshine, and revolving with
immense strides round the island of Crete, as it was his

never-ceasing task to do.
No sooner had they entered the harbor than a party of the

guards of King Minos came down to the water side, and took
charge of the fourteen young men and damsels. Surrounded by

these armed warriors, Prince Theseus and his companions were
led to the king's palace, and ushered into his presence. Now,

Minos was a stern and pitiless king. If the figure that guarded
Crete was made of brass, then the monarch, who ruled over it,

might be thought to have a still harder metal in his breast,
and might have been called a man of iron. He bent his shaggy

brows upon the poor Athenian victims. Any other mortal,
beholding their fresh and tender beauty, and their innocent

looks, would have felt himself sitting on thorns until he had
made every soul of them happy by bidding them go free as the

summer wind. But this immitigable Minos cared only to examine
whether they were plump enough to satisfy the Minotaur's

appetite. For my part, I wish he himself had been the only
victim; and the monster would have found him a pretty tough

one.
One after another, King Minos called these pale, frightened

youths and sobbing maidens to his footstool, gave them each a
poke in the ribs with his sceptre (to try whether they were in

good flesh or no), and dismissed them with a nod to his guards.
But when his eyes rested on Theseus, the king looked at him

more attentively, because his face was calm and brave.
"Young man," asked he, with his stern voice, "are you not

appalled at the certainty of being devoured by this terrible
Minotaur?"

"I have offered my life in a good cause," answered Theseus,
"and therefore I give it freely and gladly. But thou, King

Minos, art thou not thyself appalled, who, year after year,
hast perpetrated this dreadful wrong, by giving seven innocent

youths and as many maidens to be devoured by a monster? Dost
thou not tremble, wicked king, to turn shine eyes inward on

shine own heart? Sitting there on thy golden throne, and in thy
robes of majesty, I tell thee to thy face, King Minos, thou art

a more hideousmonster than the Minotaur himself!"
"Aha! do you think me so?" cried the king, laughing in his

cruel way. "To-morrow, at breakfast time, you shall have an
opportunity of judging which is the greater monster, the

Minotaur or the king! Take them away, guards; and let this
free-spoken youth be the Minotaur's first morsel."

Near the king's throne (though I had no time to tell you so
before) stood his daughter Ariadne. She was a beautiful and

tender-hearted maiden, and looked at these poor doomed captives
with very different feelings from those of the iron-breasted

King Minos. She really wept indeed, at the idea of how much
human happiness would be needlessly thrown away, by giving so

many young people, in the first bloom and rose blossom of their
lives, to be eaten up by a creature who, no doubt, would have

preferred a fat ox, or even a large pig, to the plumpest of
them. And when she beheld the brave, spirited figure of Prince

Theseus bearing himself so calmly in his terrible peril, she
grew a hundred times more pitiful than before. As the guards

were taking him away, she flung herself at the king's feet, and
besought him to set all the captives free, and especially this

one young man.
"Peace, foolish girl!" answered King Minos.

"What hast thou to do with an affair like this? It is a matter
of state policy, and therefore quite beyond thy weak

comprehension. Go water thy flowers, and think no more of these
Athenian caitiffs, whom the Minotaur shall as certainly eat up

for breakfast as I will eat a partridge for my supper."
So saying, the king looked cruel enough to devour Theseus and

all the rest of the captives himself, had there been no
Minotaur to save him the trouble. As he would hear not another

word in their favor, the prisoners were now led away, and
clapped into a dungeon, where the jailer advised them to go to

sleep as soon as possible, because the Minotaur was in the
habit of calling for breakfast early. The seven maiden s and

six of the young men soon sobbed themselves to slumber. But
Theseus was not like them. He felt conscious that he was wiser,

and braver, and stronger than his companions, and that
therefore he had the responsibility of all their lives upon

him, and must consider whether there was no way to save them,
even in this last extremity. So he kept himself awake, and

paced to and fro across the gloomydungeon in which they were
shut up.

Just before midnight, the door was softly unbarred, and the
gentle Ariadne showed herself, with a torch in her hand.

"Are you awake, Prince Theseus?" she whispered.
"Yes," answered Theseus. "With so little time to live, I do not

choose to waste any of it in sleep."
"Then follow me," said Ariadne, "and tread softly."

What had become of the jailer and the guards, Theseus never
knew. But, however that might be, Ariadne opened all the doors,

and led him forth from the darksome prison into the pleasant
moonlight.

"Theseus," said the maiden, "you can now get on board your
vessel, and sail away for Athens."

"No," answered the young man; "I will never leave Crete unless
I can first slay the Minotaur, and save my poor companions, and

deliver Athens from this cruel tribute."
"I knew that this would be your resolution," said Ariadne.

"Come, then, with me, brave Theseus. Here is your own sword,
which the guards deprived you of. You will need it; and pray

Heaven you may use it well."
Then she led Theseus along by the hand until they came to a

dark, shadowy grove, where the moonlight wasted itself on the
tops of the trees, without shedding hardly so much as a

glimmering beam upon their pathway. After going a good way
through this obscurity, they reached a high marble wall, which