I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had
not dreamt, the Count must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on
the subject, but could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there
were certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid by
in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and I am rigorously
accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and many such details.
But these things are no proof, for they may have been evidences that my mind was
not as usual, and, for some cause or another, I had certainly been much upset.
I must watch for proof. Of one thing I am glad. If it was that the Count carried
me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets
are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would
not have brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room,
although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for
nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were, who are, waiting
to suck my blood.