CHAPTER IV
JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL
31 May.—This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a surprise, again a shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new scheme of villainy…
Plants tend to have so many names, it’s confusing. Pissenlit is a bit gross, but more informative than dent-de-lion, I guess. It seems that they’re sometimes called pissabed or piss-the-bed in English, but I suspect that most English speakers wouldn’t understand if I used that word? If I ever end up visiting London again, I’ll try to place it in a sentence as a challenge. 😈
Trévoux’s dictionary says:
… I’ve just looked at many pictures of lions’ dentitions, and I really can’t see a likeness. The author doesn’t seem really convinced either, ha ha.
:-)