The Bad Beginning: Chapters 7–10

Books about the law are notorious for being very long, very dull, and very difficult to read. This is one reason many lawyers make heaps of money. The money is an incentive—the word “incentive” here means “an offered reward to persuade you to do something you don’t want to do”—to read long, dull, and difficult books.

Books about the law are notorious for being very long, very dull, and very difficult to read. This is one reason many lawyers make heaps of money. The money is an incentive—the word “incentive” here means “an offered reward to persuade you to do something you don’t want to do”—to read long, dull, and difficult books.

Klaus turned and saw one of the members of Count Olaf’s theater troupe, the one with hooks for hands, standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in this musty old room, anyway?” he asked in his croak of a voice, walking over to where Klaus was sitting.

Narrowing his beady eyes, he read the title of one of the books. “Inheritance Law and Its Implications?' he said sharply. “Why are you reading that?”

Narrowing his beady eyes, he read the title of one of the books. “Inheritance Law and Its Implications?' he said sharply. “Why are you reading that?”

Violet was sleeping fitfully—a word which here means “with much tossing and turning”—on the lumpy bed, and Sunny had wormed her way into the pile of curtains so that she just looked like a small heap of cloth.

Klaus had not told his siblings about the book, because he didn’t want to give them false hope. He wasn’t sure the book would help them out of their dilemma.

Klaus’s heart was beating fast, but he felt calm on the outside, as if he had on a layer of invisible armor. “I’ve been up all night,” he said, “reading this book.” He put the book out on the table so Olaf could see it. “It’s called Nuptial Law,” Klaus said, “and I learned many interesting things while reading it.”

This play you’re putting on shouldn’t be called The Marvelous Marriage. It should be called The Menacing Marriage.

Then her eyes traveled up Count Olaf’s lean, shabbily dressed body, and she saw that he was pointing up with one scrawny hand. She followed his gesture and found herself looking at the forbidden tower. It was made of dirty stone, with only one lone window, and just barely visible in the window was what looked like a birdcage.

Then her eyes traveled up Count Olaf’s lean, shabbily dressed body, and she saw that he was pointing up with one scrawny hand. She followed his gesture and found herself looking at the forbidden tower. It was made of dirty stone, with only one lone window, and just barely visible in the window was what looked like a birdcage.

The really frightening thing about Olaf, she realized, was that he was very smart after all. He wasn’t merely an unsavory drunken brute, but an unsavory, clever drunken brute.

“While you were busy reading books and making accusations,” Count Olaf said, “I had one of my quietest, sneakiest assistants skulk into your bedroom and steal little Sunny away. She is perfectly safe, for now. But I consider her to be a stick behind a stubborn mule.”

“Come now,” Count Olaf said, his voice faking—a word which here means “feigning”—kindness. He reached out a hand and stroked Violet’s hair. “Would it be so terrible to be my bride, to live in my house for the rest of your life? You’re such a lovely girl, after the marriage I wouldn’t dispose of you like your brother and sister.”

“I may be a terrible man,” Count Olaf said, “but I have been able to concoct a foolproof way of getting your fortune, which is more than you’ve been able to do.”

“I may be a terrible man,” Count Olaf said, “but I have been able to concoct a foolproof way of getting your fortune, which is more than you’ve been able to do.”

Klaus sighed, and relinquished—a word which here means “gave to Count Olaf even though he didn’t want to”—the book on nuptial law.

All day, the two siblings had wandered around the house, doing the assigned chores and scarcely speaking to each other. Klaus was too tired and despondent to speak, and Violet was holed up in the inventing area of her mind, too busy planning to talk.

“Casing the joint” means observing a particular location in order to formulate a plan.

The particular knot she was using was called the Devil’s Tongue. A group of female Finnish pirates invented it back in the fifteenth century, and named it the Devil’s Tongue because it twisted this way and that, in a most complicated and eerie way.

What she had made was called a grappling hook, which is something used for climbing up the sides of buildings, usually for a nefarious purpose.

Her heart pounding, Violet stood stock-still, wondering if Count Olaf or one of his accomplices would come and investigate.

Never daring to look around, she pulled herself up the tower, hand over hand, all the time keeping in mind her promise to her parents and the horrible things Count Olaf would do if his villainous plan worked.

She was certain that at any moment the cloth would tear, or the hook would slip, and Violet would be sent tumbling to her death. But thanks to her adroit inventing skills—the word “adroit” here means “skillful”—everything worked the way it was supposed to work, and suddenly Violet found herself feeling a piece of metal instead of a cloth rope.

The eldest Baudelaire orphan was about to grab her sister’s cage and begin her descent when she saw something that made her stop.