Most probably the lad had touched the clapper as he passed it.
Meantime Andres was steadily mounting a step-ladder placed on the roof by which the final stage was to be reached, and from the steps was engaged in arranging the support that was to receive the ball.
The workmen below were drawing the pulleys, and the ornament had nearly reached the summit; as it rose, Andres had to mount two steps more. He raised his foot, but his courage failed.
“My son is lost, for he hesitates!” cried the terror-stricken father, in a hoarse voice.
The multitude took up the cry; but, simultaneously with its utterance, the luckless boy was precipitated to the ground, dashing against one of the buttresses as he fell.
Juan de Herrera, adds the tradition, was never seen to smile again.
One day he went up to the top of the lantern of St. Lorenzo of the Escorial, and gazed over towards Coveña. It seemed to him that he saw two fiery eyes glaring upon him from the steeple which had once been his pride.
Eight days after he was found a corpse. It was the anniversary of the death of his son.