Part II - How Theseus Slew The Devourers Of Men

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'Why?' asked Theseus, astonished.

'Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they be long enough: but me only he spared, seven weary years agone; for I alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made me his slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in brazen-gated Thebes; but now I hew wood and draw water for him, the torment of all mortal men.'

Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.

'Escape, then,' said the old man, 'for he will have no pity on thy youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a maiden, and fitted them upon his bed; and the young man's hands and feet he cut off, but the maiden's limbs he stretched until she died, and so both perished miserably - but I am tired of weeping over the slain. And therefore he is called Procrustes the stretcher, though his father called him Damastes. Flee from him: yet whither will you flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and there is no other road.'

But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man's month, and said, 'There is no need to flee;' and he turned to go down the pass.

'Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by some evil death;' and the old man screamed after him down the glen; but Theseus strode on in his wrath.

And he said to himself, 'This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I have done ridding it of monsters?' And as he spoke, Procrustes came up the hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking gaily. And when he saw Theseus, he cried, 'Ah, fair young guest, have I kept you too long waiting?'

But Theseus answered, 'The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is done throughout the land?'

Then Procrustes' countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leapt on him, and cried -

'Is this true, my host, or is it false?' and he clasped Procrustes round waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.

'Is this true, my host, or is it false?' But Procrustes answered never a word.

Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and before Procrustes could strike him he had struck, and felled him to the ground.