The bishop was incredulous. "But, but, you have no arms!" "No matter," said the man, "Observe!" He then began striking the bells with his forehead, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.
The bishop listened in astonishment, yet convinced that he had finally found a suitable replacement for Quasimodo.
Suddenly, rushing forward to strike a final crescendo, the armless man tripped, and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below.
The horrified bishop rushed from the belfry. By the time he reached the street, a crowd, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before, had gathered around the fallen figure. 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 said sadly, "but his face sure rings a bell."
The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, unbelievably, 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 of a stroke 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 monk 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."
ack ain ext