A Series of Unfortunate Events Book 1 | Page 8

had an image of an eye tattooed on his ankle, matching
the eye on his front door. They wondered how many other eyes
were in Count Olaf's house, and whether, for the rest of their lives,
they would always feel as though Count Olaf were watching them even
when he wasn't nearby.

Chapter
Three I
don't know if you've ever noticed this, but first impressions are often entirely
wrong. You can look at a painting for the first time, for example,
and not like it at all, but after looking at it a little longer you may
find it very pleasing. The first time you try Gorgonzola cheese you
may find it too strong, but when you are older you may want to eat
nothing but Gorgonzola cheese. Klaus, when Sunny was born, did not
like her at all, but by the time she was six weeks old the two of them
were thick as thieves. Your initial opinion on just about anything may
change over time. I
wish I could tell you that the Baudelaires' first impressions of Count Olaf
and his house were incorrect, as first impressions so often are. But these
impressions-that Count Olaf was a horrible person, and his house a
depressing pigsty-were absolutely correct. During the first few days after
the orphans arrival at Count Olaf's, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny attempted
to make themselves feel at home, but it was really no use. Even
though Count Olaf's house was quite large, the three children were
placed together in one filthy bedroom that had only one small bed
in it. Violet and Klaus took turns sleeping in it, so that every other night
one of them was in the bed and the other was sleeping on the hard
wooden floor, and the bed's mattress was so lumpy it was difficult to
say who was more uncomfortable. To make a bed for Sunny, Violet removed
the dusty curtains from the curtain rod that hung over the bedroom's
one window and bunched them together to form a sort of cushion,
just big enough for her sister. However, without curtains over the
cracked glass, the sun streamed through the window every morning,
so the children woke up early and sore each day. Instead of a
closet, there was a large cardboard box that had once held a refrigerator
and would now hold the three children's clothes, all piled in
a heap. Instead of toys, books, or other things to amuse the youngsters,
Count Olaf had provided a small pile of rocks. And the only decoration
on the peeling walls was a large and ugly painting of an eye,
matching the one on Count Olaf's ankle and all over the house. But
the children knew, as I'm sure you know, that the worst

surroundings
in the world can be tolerated if the people in them are interesting
and kind. Count Olaf was neither interesting nor kind; he was
demanding, short-tempered, and bad-smelling. The only good thing
to be said for Count Olaf is that he wasn't around very often. When
the children woke up and chose their clothing out of the refrigerator
box, they would walk into the kitchen and find a list of instructions
left for them by Count