There is no denying some natural effects of the notorious tower. The reasons that lead man to install himself in it vary from experience to reasoning; but, without a doubt, the true tower only shelters voluntary residents. Once installed, man changes with time, which seems, above all, to harden him. Isolated from agitation, the spirit cools down, the body stabilizes, and the mind seems to compensate it with doubled activity. Soon, an abyss opens up between such a posture and the so-called normality, which is analyzed in growing repulsion. This is why an uncontrollable intolerance grows in the spirit, a violent aversion to that which reasoning repeatedly condemns in endless hours of meditation: the world is seen in its most perverse face. It is true, then, that the tower can greatly stimulate bitterness—and it often does. In this way, a hardness of unusual character is materialized; a hardness that inevitably ends up committing an injustice at one time or another. Here something very curious happens: when the recluse is faced with the injustice committed, or rather, when he is faced with a nature that contradicts his judgments, there is a shock so violent that it seems to be the work of a superior entity. Then the remains of a dead humanity resurface, and in a mixture of amazement and remorse, the inhabitant of the tower seems to soften.