My blood is frozen in my veins.

I have no use of my limbs.
I shall never recover it; never!" And then very slowly a huge bundle of cloaks and rags and furs, nearly circular in form and about five feet in diameter, began to move towards the door of the carriage, and gradually, by the help of Signor Leandro and Signora Marta, to struggle through it and get itself down on the pavement.
"And this I do and suffer for thee, Ravenna!" said the bundle in the same shrill tenor, making an attempt, as it spoke, to raise two little projecting fins towards the cold, unsympathising stars.
"But have you succeeded, Signor Ercole ?" asked the other again, anxiously.
"I have succeeded in sacrificing myself for my country," replied the shrill voice with chattering teeth; "for I know I shall never get over it.

I am frozen.

It is a very painful form of martyrdom." "But you can at least say one word, Signor Ercole?
You can say yes or no to the question, whether you have succeeded in our object ?" urged the Conte Leandro.
Signor Ercole Stadione, however, who was, as the reader is aware, no less important a personage than the impresario of the principal theatre of Ravenna, knew too well all the importance that belonged to the news he had to tell to part with his secret so easily.

"Signor Conte," he quavered out, "I tell you I am frozen! A man cannot speak on any subject in such a condition.