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
decided to call it a day when a lone, armless man approached him and
announced that he was there to apply for the bellringers 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 on the carillon. 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 of
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
"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his face rings
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his
heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist
(now there's a trivia question), 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."
Submitted by reader S.S.