When I found that I was a prisoner it gave me a sort of wild feeling. I ran up and down the stairs, trying to open every door and sticking my head out of every window I could find. But after a little while I could feel nothing but completely sure that I was helpless. Thinking about it now, a few hours later, I think I must have been mad for a while. I behaved like a rat in a trap.

However, when I finally understood that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life. I began to think what was the best thing to do. I am still thinking, and so far I have not decided about anything. I am only certain of one thing. It is useless telling the Count what I think. He knows very well that I am a prisoner, because he is the one who has made me one. No doubt he has his own motives for it, and he would only lie to me if I trusted him with what I think.

As far as I can see, my only plan is to keep to myself what I know and what I fear. I must also keep my eyes open. I know that either I am being like a baby, and my fears are making me stupid, or else I am in very serious danger. If it is danger, I will need all my brains to stay alive.