Your forehead is cool, and your speech collected.

Do you know where you are?
_Boy_.

I know where I am, and I see things just as they are; you are beside me, and upon the table there is a book which was written by a Florentine; all this I see, and that there is no ground for being afraid.
I am, moreover, quite cool, and feel no pain--but, but-- And then there was a burst of 'gemiti, sospiri ed alti guai.' Alas, alas, poor child of clay! as the sparks fly upward, so wast thou born to sorrow--Onward!.