I begin to get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me.

Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, my tablets! 'tis meet that I put it down," etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose.

The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.
The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time.

It frightens me more not when I think of it, for in the future he has a fearful hold upon me.

I shall fear to doubt what he may say! When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy.