is--was a bell-ringer?"

Des Hermies did not have time to answer, for at that moment, having
reached the door of the room beneath the tower roof, Carhaix was
standing aside to let them pass. They were in a rotunda pierced in the
centre by a great circular hole which had around it a corroded iron
balustrade orange with rust. By standing close to the railing, which was
like the well curb of the Pit, one could see down, down, to the
foundation. The "well" seemed to be undergoing repairs, and from the top
to the bottom of the tube the beams supporting the bells were
crisscrossed with timbers bracing the walls.

"Don't be afraid to lean over," said Carhaix. "Now tell me, monsieur,
how do you like my foster children?"

But Durtal was hardly heeding. He felt uneasy, here in space, and as if
drawn toward the gaping chasm, whence ascended, from time to time, the
desultory clanging of the bell, which was still swaying and would be
some time in returning to immobility.

He recoiled.

"Wouldn't you like to pay a visit to the top of the tower?" asked
Carhaix, pointing to an iron stair sealed into the wall.

"No, another day."

They descended and Carhaix, in silence, opened a door. They advanced
into an immense storeroom, containing colossal broken statues of saints,
scaly and dilapidated apostles, Saint Matthew legless and armless, Saint