Spoke to my soul and it melted and flowed like iron in the foundry!
Still it resounds! That fervent hope warms us again like coffee!
O glowing geranium! O clot of sunlight! It throbs! It bleeds like a fragment of living flesh!
For there is a force and a spirit in me
Like the bellows blowing on iron in the fire.
I beg of you, do not ask me anything more!
Cébès: Yet it must be.
—Mother, my brother! O nurse with sides caparisoned in steel!
Tête-d'or: Well?
Cébès: O brother, so at the last you have found no word to tell me! Ah well,