"We are now," said Ariadne, "in the famous labyrinth which
Daedalus built before he made himself a pair of wings, and flew
away from our island like a bird. That Daedalus was a very
cunning workman; but of all his artful contrivances, this
labyrinth is the most wondrous. Were we to take but a few steps
from the doorway, we might wander about all our lifetime, and
never find it again. Yet in the very center of this labyrinth
is the Minotaur; and, Theseus, you must go thither to seek
him."

"But how shall I ever find him," asked Theseus, "if the
labyrinth so bewilders me as you say it will?"

Just as he spoke, they heard a rough and very disagreeable
roar, which greatly resembled the lowing of a fierce bull, but
yet had some sort of sound like the human voice. Theseus even
fancied a rude articulation in it, as if the creature that
uttered it were trying to shape his hoarse breath into words.
It was at some distance, however, and he really could not tell
whether it sounded most like a bull's roar or a man's harsh
voice.

"That is the Minotaur's noise," whispered Ariadne, closely
grasping the hand of Theseus, and pressing one of her own hands
to her heart, which was all in a tremble. "You must follow that
sound through the windings of the labyrinth, and, by and by,
you will find him. Stay! take the end of this silken string; I
will hold the other end; and then, if you win the victory. it
will lead you again to this spot. Farewell, brave Theseus."