It was much too terrible to think about.

He rushed to the fire, and thrust both of his hands right into the middle of the heap of flaming roses, and his arms halfway up to the elbows.

And it did hurt! But he did not draw them back.

He held the pain as if it were a thing that would kill him if he let it go--as indeed it would have done.

He was in terrible fear lest it should conquer him.
But when it had risen to the pitch that he thought he could bear it no longer, it began to fall again, and went on growing less and less until by contrast with its former severity it had become rather pleasant.