After Quasimodo's death the bishop of the cathedral of Notre Dame sent
word through the streets of Paris that a new bellringer was
needed.
The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally
and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process. After
observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided
to call it a day when an armless man approached him and announced
that he was there to apply for the bellringer's job.
The bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!"
"No matter," said the man, "Observe!" He then began
striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody.
The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced that he had finally
found a suitable replacement for Quasimodo.
Suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped,
and plunged headlong out the belfry window to his death in the street
below. The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the
street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the
beautiful music they had heard only moments before.
As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked,
"Bishop, who was this man?"
"I don't know his name," the bishop replied sadly,
"but his face rings a
bell."
(but wait, there's more...)
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his
heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the
bishop continued his interviews for the bellringer of Notre Dame. The
first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother of
the poor, armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry
yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace
him in this duty."
The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and as the armless
man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell,
he groaned, clutched at his chest and died on the spot.
Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second
tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.
"What has happened?" the first breathlessly asked, "Who is
this man?"
"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught
bishop, "
but he's a dead ringer for his
brother."
