The Bad Beginning

``Here you are, Olaf,'' said one of the white-faced women. ``What in the world are you doing?''

``I'm just disciplining these orphans,'' Count Olaf said. ``I asked them to make di

``You can't go easy on children,'' the man with the hook-hands said. ``They must be taught to obey their elders.''

The tall, bald man peered at the youngsters. ``Are these,'' he said to Count Olaf, ``those wealthy children you were telling me about?''

``Yes,'' Count Olaf said. ``They are so awful I can scarcely stand to touch them.'' With that, he lowered Su

``I don't blame you,'' said someone in the doorway.

Count Olaf rubbed his hands together as if he had been holding something revolting instead of an infant. ``Well, enough talk,'' he said. ``I suppose we will eat their di

``Hurrah!'' cried several members of the troupe, and they marched through the kitchen, following Count Olaf into the dining room. Nobody paid a bit of attention to the children, except for the bald man, who stopped and stared Violet in the eye.

``You're a pretty one,'' he said, taking her face in his rough hands. ``If I were you I would try not to anger Count Olaf, or he might wreck that pretty little face of yours.'' Violet shuddered, and the bald man gave a high-pitched giggle and left the room.

The Baudelaire children, alone in the kitchen, found themselves breathing heavily, as if they had just run a long distance. Su

``This is terrible, terrible,'' Klaus said finally. ``Violet, what can we do?''

``I don't know,'' she said. ``I'm afraid.''

``Me too,'' Klaus said.

``Hux!'' Su

``Let's have some di

``We'd better serve the puttanesca,'' Klaus said, ``or who knows what Count Olaf will do to us.''

Violet thought of what the bald man had said, about wrecking her face, and nodded. The two of them looked at the pot of bubbling sauce, which had seemed so cozy while they were making it and now looked like a vat of blood. Then, leaving Su

``Because you haven't cleaned up yet,'' he said to the orphans, ``I suppose you can be excused from attending tonight's performance. But after cleaning up, you are to go straight to your beds.''

Klaus had been glaring at the floor, trying to hide how upset he was. But at this he could not remain silent. ``You mean our bed!'' he shouted. ``You have only provided us with one bed!''

Members of the theater troupe stopped in their tracks at this outburst, and glanced from Klaus to Count Olaf to see what would happen next. Count Olaf raised his one eyebrow, and his eyes shone bright, but he spoke calmly.

``If you would like another bed,'' he said, ``tomorrow you may go into town and purchase one.''

``You know perfectly well we haven't any money,'' Klaus said.

``Of course you do,'' Count Olaf said, and his voice began to get a little louder. ``You are the inheritors of an enormous fortune.''

``That money,'' Klaus said, remembering what Mr. Poe said, ``is not to be used until Violet is of age.''

Count Olaf's face grew very red. For a moment he said nothing. Then, in one sudden movement, he reached down and struck Klaus across the face. Klaus fell to the floor, his face inches from the eye tattooed on Olaf's ankle. His glasses leaped from his face and skittered into a corner. His left cheek, where Olaf had struck him, felt as if it were on fire. The theater troupe laughed, and a few of them applauded as if Count Olaf had done something very brave instead of something despicable.

``Come on, friends,'' Count Olaf said to his comrades. ``We'll be late for our own performance.''

``If I know you, Olaf,'' said the man with the hook-hands, ``you'll figure out a way to get at that Baudelaire money.''

``We'll see,'' Count Olaf said, but his eyes were shining bright as if he already had an idea. There was another loud boom as the front door shut behind Count Olaf and his terrible friends, and the Baudelaire children were alone in the kitchen. Violet knelt at Klaus's side, giving him a hug to try to make him feel better. Su