This was the only speech that he could hear, the only sound that broke for him the universal silence. He expanded in it, like a bird in the sunshine. All at once the frenzy of the bell would seize him, his look became wild – he lay in wait for the great bell as a spider for a fly and then flung himself headlong upon it. Now, suspended over the abyss, borne to and fro by the formidable swinging of the bell, he seized the brazen monster by the ears – gripped it with his knees – spurred it with his heels – and redoubled, with the shock and the weight of his body, the fury of the peal. Meanwhile the tower trembled; he shouted and gnashed his teeth – his red hair bristled – his breast heaved and puffed like the bellows of a forge – his eye flashed fire – the monstrous bell neighed panting beneath him. Then it was no longer either the great bell of Notre Dame or Quasimodo – it was a dream – a whirl – dizziness upon clamour – a strange centaur, half man, half bell – a spirit clinging to a winged monster….
Victor Hugo, “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”
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