of the path. And at
last, in an open space, at the very center of the labyrinth, he did
discern the hideous creature.

Sure enough, what an ugly monster it was! Only his horned head belonged
to a bull; and yet, somehow or other, he looked like a bull all over,
preposterously waddling on his hind legs; or, if you happened to view
him in another way, he seemed wholly a man, and all the more monstrous
for being so. And there he was, the wretched thing, with no society, no
companion, no kind of a mate, living only to do mischief, and incapable
of knowing what affection means. Theseus hated him, and shuddered at
him, and yet could not but be sensible of some sort of pity; and all
the more, the uglier and more detestable the creature was. For he kept
striding to and fro, in a solitary frenzy of rage, continually emitting
a hoarse roar, which was oddly mixed up with half-shaped words; and,
after listening a while, Theseus understood that the Minotaur was
saying to himself how miserable he was, and how hungry, and how he hated
everybody, and how he longed to eat up the human race alive.

Ah! the bull-headed villain! And O, my good little people, you will
perhaps see, one of these days, as I do now, that every human being who
suffers any thing evil to get into his nature, or to remain there, is a
kind of Minotaur, an enemy of his fellow-creatures, and separated from
all good companionship, as this poor monster was.

Was Theseus afraid? By no means, my dear auditors. What! a hero like
Theseus afraid, Not had the Minotaur had twenty bull-heads instead of
one. Bold as he was, however, I rather fancy that it strengthened his
valiant heart, just at this crisis, to feel a tremulous twitch at the
silken cord, which he was still holding in his left hand. It was as
if Ariadne were giving him all her might and courage; and much as he
already had, and little as she had to give, it made his own seem twice
as much. And to confess the honest truth, he needed the whole; for
now the Minotaur, turning suddenly about, caught sight of Theseus, and
instantly lowered his horribly sharp horns, exactly as a mad bull does
when he means to rush against an enemy. At the same time, he belched
forth a tremendous roar, in which there was something like the words
of human language, but all disjointed and shaken to pieces by passing
through the gullet of a miserably enraged brute.

Theseus could only guess what the creature intended to say, and that
rath