The Bell Ringer of Notre Dame

After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent
word
through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer 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.   Just then,
an
armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for
the
bell ringer's job.

The bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!" 

"No matter," said the man. "Observe!"  And he began striking the bells
with
his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon. The bishop
listened
in astonishment, convinced he had finally found a replacement for
Quasimodo.
But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped
and
lunged 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 man?"

I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his face sure
rings a
bell."

WAIT!  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 bell ringer 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, twirled around, 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? Who is this man?" the first monk
asked breathlessly.

"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught bishop, but..."

"He's a dead ringer for his brother."