I
trust I shall not become deaf, like my departed uncle Christopher.
April 20.--The noise in my head grows worse; it is a humming sound.
It distracts me; twice I have failed to hear the captain and have
been reprimanded.
April 22.--So bad is my head that I go to see the doctor. He speaks
of tinnitus, and gives me an inhaling apparatus that shall reach, he
says, the middle ear.
April 25.--The apparatus is of no use. The sound is now become like
the booming of a great church bell. It reminds me of the bell at St.
Lambart on that terrible day of last August.
April 26.--I could swear that it is the bell of St. Lambart that I
hear all the time. They rang it as the procession came out of the
church.
The man's writing, at first firm enough, begins to straggle unevenly
over the page at this point. The entries show that he became convinced
that he heard the bell of St. Lambart's Church ringing, though (as he
knew better than most men) there had been no bell and no church at St.
Lambart's since the summer of 1914. There was no village either--the
whole place was a rubbish-heap.
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