"I am losing myself! Come and meet me!"
Again that boyish laugh came from the maze.
"Ariadne, Ariadne! the thread!"
Now the words came from the opposite side, striking her heart as if with a blow.
"Ariadne!"
She turned back, ran, turned again, tried to break through the hedge, to see through the undergrowth, to break the branches. She saw nothing but the maze, always the same in every direction. At last she heard a step, so close that she thought it must be just behind her, and she started. But she was deceived. Again she explored her green prison; she listened, waited; she could hear no sound but her own breathing and the beating of her heart. The silence had become absolute. She gazed at the clear sky, curving in its immensity over the two green walls that held her prisoner. She felt that that immensity and narrowness were the only things in the world. And she could not succeed in separating in her thoughts the reality of that place from the image of her mental torture, the natural aspect of things from that kind of living allegory created by her own anguish.
"Stelio, where are you?"
No reply. She listened and waited in vain. The seconds seemed like hours.
"Where are you? I am afraid!"
No reply. But where was he, then? Had he found the way out? Had he left her there all alone? Would he continue to play this cruel game?