i set up my writing desk , at which i sit now , put away the candles , and then betook myself to the public rooms below , where a little fire was going against the damp and dark in this stony place , about which several local philosophers were warming themselves , or drying out their besotted flesh , one or the other , and seating myself at a comfortable table and ordering supper , i tried to banish from my mind the curious obsession i have with all comfortable hearth fires , that the condemned feel this cozy warmth before it turns to agony and their bodies are consumed .