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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.