The
councilman had only partly divined the cause. Overwork had merely
watered the soil for the parasite growth which was gnawing at
Apollonius' inmost being. The first symptoms seemed of a physical
nature. As his brother had plunged to death before him, the clock
below had struck the hour of two. Since then every sound of a bell
frightened him. What aroused more serious apprehension was an attack
of dizziness. All the horrors of that day did not obliterate the
feeling of uneasiness which had taken possession of him when he
discovered the inexactitude in his work. Every time a bell sounded it
seemed to him a warning. Early the next morning he went to the
roof-door with his ladder in his hand. He had already noticed how
insecure his step was as he climbed the tower stairs; now, when
through the open door the distant mountains began to nod so curiously
to him and the firm tower to rock beneath him, he became frightened.
That was dizziness, the slater's worst, most malicious enemy when it
takes sudden hold of him on a swaying ladder between heaven and earth.
In vain Apollonius strove to overcome it; he had to give up his
purpose for the day. No way had ever been so hard for Apollonius as
the tower stairs down from St. George's. What would happen? How could
he fulfil his vow if this dizziness did not leave him? On the same day
he had some work to do on the tower of St. Nicholas. There he had to
venture into more dangerous places than at St. George's; the bells
rang at the most critical instant; he felt no trace of dizziness.
Joyfully he hastened back to St. George's, but again the ladder
trembled under his feet, the mountains nodded, the tower rocked. He
was on the lowest rung of the ladder when the clock began to strike
the hour. The sound penetrated every nerve of his body; he had to hold
fast to the railing until the last echo had died away. He made attempt
after attempt, and climbed all ladders and towers with his old
sureness of foot; only at St. George's did dizziness return. There he
had hammered his sinful thoughts into his work; he had felt at the
time that he was forging an evil charm, a coming disaster. Day and
night the picture followed him of the place where he had forgotten to
insert the sheet of lead and to rivet the decoration. The flaw was
like an evil spot, a spot where a crime had been begun or completed
and where no grass grows, no shadow falls; like an open wound which
does not heal until it has been ave