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Chapter 3
When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and
down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find, but after
a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look
back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as
a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless
I sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and began to think
over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite
conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to
the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and has
doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the
facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to
myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own
fears, or else I am in desperate straits, and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all
my brains to get through.
I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew
that the Count had returned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went
cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only
confirmed what I had all along thought, that there are no servants in the house. When
later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining
room, I was assured of it. For if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof
that there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the
driver of the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought, for if so, what does it
mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for
silence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible
fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the
mountain ash?
Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For it is a comfort
and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught
to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be
of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a
medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time,
if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the
meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula,as it may help me to understand.
Tonight he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful,
however, not to awake his suspicion.
Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on
Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speaking of
things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them
all. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a Boyar the pride of his house and
name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he