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Round the World in Eighty Days

Жюль Верн
Round the World in Eighty Days

CHAPTER XXXIV

In which Passe-partout uses Strong Language.

Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House, pending his removal to London.

Passe-partout would have attacked Fix when he arrested his master, had not some policemen prevented him. Mrs. Aouda was quite upset by the occurrence, which was quite unintelligible to her. Passe-partout explained to her how it had come to pass, and the young lady, who was of course powerless, wept bitterly.

Fix had merely done his duty, whether Mr. Fogg was guilty or not guilty. The judge would decide that.

It then occurred to Passe-partout that this was all his fault. Why had he not communicated the facts to Mr. Fogg? He should have told him who Fix was and his errand. Thus forewarned he could have given proofs of his innocence, and at any rate the detective would not in that case have travelled at Mr. Fogg's expense, and arrested him the moment he landed. As he thought of all this Passe-partout was ready to shoot himself. Neither he nor Aouda left the Custom House, notwithstanding the cold weather. They were anxious to see Mr. Fogg once more.

As for that gentleman he was completely ruined, and at the very moment he had succeeded in his attempt. The arrest was fatal. He had just eight hours and forty-five minutes to reach the Reform Club, and six hours would have sufficed to get to London.

Could anyone have seen Mr. Fogg they would have found him seated calmly on a form in the Custom House, as cool as ever. Resigned is scarcely the word to apply to him, but to all appearance he was as unmoved as ever. If he was raging within he did not betray any symptoms of anger. Was it possible that he still hoped to succeed?

At any rate he had carefully placed his watch on the table before him, and was watching it intently. Not a word escaped him, but his eyes wore a curious fixed expression. Honest or not, he was caught and ruined.

Was he thinking of escape, did he think of looking for an outlet? It was not unlikely, for every now and then he got up and walked round the room. But the door and window were both firmly closed and barred. He sat down, and drawing his journal from his pocket, read:

"21st December, Saturday, Liverpool."

To this he added —

"Eightieth day, 11.40 a.m."

Then he waited. The clock of the Custom House struck one. Mr. Fogg perceived that his watch was two minutes fast.

Two o'clock came! Admitting that he could at that moment get into an express train, he might yet arrive in London and reach the Reform Club in time.

At 2.33 he heard a noise outside of opening doors. He could distinguish Passe-partout and Fix's voices. Mr. Fogg's eyes glittered. The door was flung open and Mrs. Aouda, Fix, and Passe-partout rushed in.

"Ah sir!" exclaimed Fix, hurrying up to the prisoner, "a thousand pardons – an unfortunate resemblance! The true thief is arrested. You are free, free!"

Phileas Fogg was free. He walked quietly up to the detective, looked him steadily in the face for a second, and with a movement of his arm knocked him down!

"Well hit!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "By jingo, that's a proper application of the art of self-defence!"

Fix lay flat on the ground, and did not say a word. He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passe-partout immediately quitted the Custom House, jumped into a cab, and drove to the railway-station.

Mr. Fogg inquired when there would be a train for London. It was 2.40; the train had left five-and-thirty minutes before. Mr. Fogg ordered a "special."

There were plenty of engines capable of running at a high speed, but the train could not be got in readiness before three. At that hour Mr. Fogg having said a few words to the engine-driver respecting a certain "tip," was rushing up to London, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda and his faithful Passe-partout.

The distance was accomplished in five hours and a half, a very easy thing when the line is clear, but there were some unavoidable delays, and when the special arrived in London the clock pointed to ten minutes to nine.

Thus Phileas Fogg, having accomplished his journey round the world, had returned five minutes too late!

He had lost his wager.

CHAPTER XXXV

Passe-partout obeys Orders quickly.

The inhabitants of Saville Row would have been astonished, next day, if they had been told that Mr. Fogg had returned, for the doors and windows of his house were still shut, and there was no change visible exteriorly.

When he left the railway-station, Mr. Fogg had told Passe-partout to purchase some provisions, and then he quietly went home.

Mr. Fogg preserved his usual impassibility under the trying circumstances; he was ruined, and all through the fault of that blundering detective. After having achieved his long journey, overcome a thousand obstacles, braved a thousand dangers, and even found time to do some good on the way, to fail at the very moment that success was certain was indeed terrible. A very small portion remained to him of the large sum he had taken away with him; his whole fortune was comprised in the twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring's, and that sum he owed to his colleagues at the club. After having paid all expenses, even had he won he would have been none the richer, and it is not likely he wished to be richer, for he was one of those men who bet for reputation; but this wager would ruin his altogether. However, he had fully made up his mind what to do.

A room had been set aside for Aouda, who felt Mr. Fogg's ruin very deeply. From certain words she had heard she understood he was meditating some serious measures. Knowing that Englishmen of an eccentric turn of mind sometimes commit suicide, Passe-partout kept watch on his master unobserved; but the first thing the lad did was to extinguish the gas in his room, which had been burning for eighty days. In the letter-box he had found the gas company's bill, and thought it was quite time to put a stop to such an expense.

The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but it is doubtful whether he slept. Aouda was quite unable to rest, and Passe-partout kept watch like a dog at his master's door.

Next day, Mr. Fogg told him, shortly, to attend to Mrs. Aouda's breakfast, while he would have a cup of tea and a chop. He excused himself from joining Aouda at meals on the plea of putting his affairs in order, and it was not till evening that he asked for an interview with the young lady.

Passe-partout having received his orders had only to obey them, but he found it impossible to leave his master's room. His heart was full, his conscience was troubled with remorse, for he could not help blaming himself for the disaster. If he had only warned his master about Fix, Mr. Fogg would not have brought the detective to Liverpool, and then – Passe-partout could hold out no longer.

"Oh, Mr. Fogg!" he exclaimed, "do you not curse me? It is all my fault – "

"I blame no one," replied Phileas Fogg, in his usual calm tone. "Go!"

Passe-partout quitted the room and sought Mrs. Aouda, to whom he delivered his message.

"Madam," he added, "I am powerless. I have no influence over my master's mind; perhaps you may have."

"What influence can I have?" she replied; "Mr. Fogg will submit to no one. Has he really ever understood how grateful I am to him? Has he ever read my heart? He must not be left alone an instant. You say he is going to see me this evening?"

"Yes, madam. No doubt to make arrangements for your sojourn in England."

"Let us wait, then," replied the young lady, becoming suddenly thoughtful.

So, through all that Sunday, the house in Saville Row appeared uninhabited; and for the first time since he had lived in it, Phileas Fogg did not go to his club as Big Ben was striking half-past eleven.

And why should he go to the Reform Club? His friends did not expect him. As he had not appeared in time to win the wager, it was not necessary for him to go to the bank and draw his twenty thousand pounds. His antagonists had his blank cheque; it only remained for them to fill it up and present it for payment.

As Mr. Fogg, then, had no object in going out, he stayed in his room and arranged his business matters. Passe-partout was continually running up and down stairs, and thought the day passed very slowly. He listened at his master's door, and did not think it wrong; he looked through the keyhole, for every instant he feared some catastrophe. Sometimes he thought of Fix, but without any animosity. Fix, like everyone else, had been mistaken, and had only done his duty in following Mr. Fogg, while he (Passe-partout) – The thought haunted him, and he thought himself the most wretched of men.

He was so unhappy that he could not bear to remain alone, so he knocked at Mrs. Aouda's sitting-room, and, permitted to enter, sat down in a corner, without speaking. She, too, was very pensive.

About half-past seven Mr. Fogg asked permission to go in; he took a chair and sat close by the fireplace, opposite to the young lady; he betrayed no emotion – the Fogg who had come back was the same as the Fogg who had gone away. There was the same calmness, the same impassibility.

For five minutes he did not speak, then he said: "Madam, can you forgive me for having brought you to England?"

"I, Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, trying to check the beating of her heart.

"Pray allow me to finish," continued Mr. Fogg. "When I asked you to come to this country I was rich, and had determined to place a portion of my fortune at your disposal. You would have been free and happy. Now I am ruined."

"I know it, Mr. Fogg," she replied; "and I, in my turn, have to ask your pardon for having followed you, and, who knows, retarded you, and thus contributed to your ruin."

 

"You could not have remained in India," replied Mr. Fogg, "and your safety was only assured by taking you quite away from those fanatics who wished to arrest you."

"So, Mr. Fogg," she replied, "not satisfied with having saved me from death, you wished to insure my comfort in a foreign country."

"I did," replied Fogg; "but fate was unpropitious. However, I wish to place at your disposal the little I have left."

"But," she exclaimed, "what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"

"Of me, madam? I am in want of nothing."

"But," she continued, "how can you bear to look upon the fate in store for you?"

"As I always look at everything," replied Mr. Fogg; "in the best way I can."

"At any rate," said Aouda, "your friends will not permit you to want anything."

"I have no friends, madam."

"Your relations, then."

"I have no relations now."

"Oh then indeed I pity you, Mr. Fogg. Solitude is a terrible thing. Not a single person to whom you can confide your sorrow? Though they say that even grief, shared with another, is more easily supported."

"So they say, madam."

"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and extending her hand to him, "do you care to possess at the same time a relative and a friend? Will you take me for your wife?"

Mr. Fogg had risen also. There was an unusual gleam in his eyes, and his lips trembled. Aouda looked at him. In this regard of a noble woman, who had dared everything to save the man to whom she owed her life, her sincerity, firmness, and sweetness were all apparent. He was at first astonished, and then completely overcome. For a moment his eyes closed, as if to avoid her glance, and when he opened them again he said simply:

"I love you. By all I hold sacred, I love you dearly; and I am yours for ever."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, as she pressed her hand upon her bosom.

Passe-partout was immediately summoned. Mr. Fogg was still holding the lady's hand. Passe-partout understood it all, and his face became radiant.

Mr. Fogg asked him if it were too late to notify the Rev. Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone Church, about the wedding.

Passe-partout smiled, as he replied, "It is never too late." It was then five minutes past eight.

"Will the wedding take place to-morrow, Monday?" he said "Shall we say to-morrow?" asked Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.

"If you please," she replied, blushing.

Passe-partout hurried away as fast as he could go.

CHAPTER XXXVI

In which Phileas Fogg's Name is once again at a Premium on the Exchange.

It is now time to say something of the change which English opinion underwent when the true bank robber, one James Strand, was arrested in Edinburgh on the 17th of December.

Three days before Fogg was a criminal, followed by the police; now he was a gentleman, who had only been taking an eccentric journey round the world. There was great discussion in the papers, and those who had laid wagers for or against Mr. Fogg rose once more as if by magic. The "Fogg Bonds" were once more negotiated, and Phileas Fogg's name was at a premium.

The members of the Reform Club passed those three days in great discomfort. Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten, return? Where was he on that 17th of December, which was the seventy-sixth day after his departure, and they had had no news of him? Had he given in, and renounced the struggle, or was he continuing the journey at a more reasonable rate, and would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter to nine in the evening, as agreed upon?

We cannot depict the intense agitation which moved all classes of society during those three days. Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Mr. Fogg, and people were sent, morning and night, to Saville Row; but there was no news. Even the police did not know what had become of Fix. But all these things did not prevent bets being made, even to a greater amount than formerly. Bonds were quoted no longer at a hundred per cent. discount, but went up to ten and five; and even old Lord Albemarle was betting at evens.

So that Saturday night a great crowd was assembled in Pall Mall and the Reform Club. Traffic was impeded; disputes, arguments, and bets were raging in every direction. The police had the greatest difficulty to keep back the crowd, and as the hour when Mr. Fogg was due approached, the excitement rose to fever-heat.

That evening that gentleman's five friends had assembled in the drawing-room of the club. There were the two bankers, John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin; Andrew Stuart, the engineer; Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of England; and Thomas Flanagan, the brewer; all awaiting Mr. Fogg's return with the greatest anxiety.

At twenty minutes past eight Stuart rose and said: "Gentlemen, in twenty-five minutes the time agreed upon will have expired."

"At what time was the last train due from Liverpool?" asked Flanagan.

"At 7.23," replied Ralph; "and the next does not arrive till past midnight."

"Well, then, gentlemen," replied Stuart, "if Mr. Fogg had arrived by the 7.23, he would have been here before now, so we may look upon the bet as won."

"Do not be in too great a hurry," replied Fallentin. "You know that our friend is very eccentric, and his punctuality is proverbial. I, for one, shall be astonished if he does not turn up at the last minute."

"For my part," said Stuart, who was very nervous, "if I should see him I could not believe it was he."

"In fact," replied Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was insane. No matter how punctual he may be, he cannot prevent some delay; and a day or two would throw all his arrangements out of gear."

"And you will remark besides," said Sullivan, "that we have not received any news from him all the time he has been away, although there are telegraphs all along his route."

"He has lost, gentlemen," said Stuart, "a hundred times over. The only ship he could have come by and been in time was the China, and she arrived yesterday. Here is a list of the passengers, and Phileas Fogg's name is not included. On the most favourable computation our friend can scarcely have reached America. I do not expect him for the next twenty days, and my Lord Albemarle will lose his five thousand pounds."

"Then we have nothing to do," replied Ralph, "but to present his cheque at Baring's to-morrow."

The hands of the clock were then pointing to twenty minutes to nine.

"Five minutes more," said Stuart.

The five friends looked at each other. One could almost hear their hearts beating, for it must be confessed that even for such seasoned players the stakes were pretty high, but they did not wish their anxiety to be remarked, and on Fallentin's suggestion they sat down to whist.

"I would not give up my four thousand pounds," said Stuart as he sat down, "if anyone were to offer me three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine."

The clock pointed to eighteen minutes to nine.

The players took up their cards, but kept looking at the clock. No matter how safe they felt, the minutes had never appeared so long.

"8.43," said Flanagan, as he cut the pack Ralph passed to him.

At that moment the silence was profound, but the cries of the crowd outside soon rose again. The clock beat out the seconds with mathematical regularity, and each of the players checked every tick of the pendulum.

"8.44," said Sullivan, in a voice which betrayed his nervousness.

One minute more and they would have won their bet. They laid down their cards and counted the seconds.

At the fortieth second no news; at the fiftieth still nothing. At the fifty-fifth second a loud roar was heard from the street mingled with cheers and oaths.

All the players rose simultaneously.

At the fifty-seventh second the door of the room was thrust open, and before the pendulum had marked the minute Phileas Fogg advanced into the room, followed to the door by an excited crowd who had forced their way in, and he said in his usual calm tone,

"Here I am, gentlemen."

CHAPTER XXXVII

Showing how Phileas Fogg gained only Happiness by his Tour round the World.

Yes, it was Phileas Fogg in person.

Our readers will recollect that at five minutes after eight that evening – about twenty-five hours after our travellers' arrival in London – Passe-partout had been requested to arrange about a certain marriage with the Rev. Samuel Wilson. Passe-partout had gone on his mission rejoicing, but the clergyman was not at home. He naturally waited, but he was kept at least twenty minutes.

It was 8.35 when he left the clergyman's house, but what a state he was in! His hair was disordered, he ran home without his hat, overturning the passers-by as he went rushing along the pathway.

In three minutes he was back in Saville Row, and he rushed breathlessly into Mr. Fogg's room.

He was unable to speak.

"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Oh, sir – the marriage – impossible."

"Impossible?"

"Impossible for to-morrow."

"Why so?"

"Because to-morrow is – Sunday."

"It is Monday," said Mr. Fogg.

"No, to-day is Saturday."

"Saturday? impossible."

"It is, it is!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "You have made a mistake of one day. We arrived twenty-four hours before our time, but we have only ten minutes left now."

As he spoke Passe-partout fairly dragged his master out of his chair.

Phileas Fogg, thus seized, had no choice. He rushed downstairs, jumped into a cab, promised the driver a hundred pounds, ran over two dogs, came into collision with five cabs, and reached the Reform Club at 8.45.

So Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty days, and had won his bet of twenty thousand pounds.

Now how was it that such a methodical man could have made a mistake of a day? How could he imagine that he had got back on Saturday the 21st when it was really Friday the 20th, seventy-nine days after his departure?

The reason is very simple.

Phileas Fogg had unconsciously gained a day, simply because he journeyed always eastward, whereas, had he journeyed westward, he would have lost a day.

In fact, travelling towards the east, he had gone towards the south, and consequently the days got shorter as many times four minutes as he crossed degrees in that direction. There are three hundred and sixty degrees, and these multiplied by four minutes give exactly twenty-four hours; that is the day Fogg gained. In other words, while Phileas Fogg, going east, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty times, his friends in London only saw it seventy-nine times, and that is why on that day, which was Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought, they expected him at the Reform Club.

Passe-partout's wonderful watch, which had always kept London time, would have confirmed this had it only marked the days as well as the hours and minutes.

So Phileas Fogg had won his twenty thousand pounds, but as he had expended nearly nineteen thousand pounds, his gain was small. However, he had not bet for money. He actually divided the thousand pounds that remained between honest Passe-partout and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he bore no malice. But from Passe-partout's share he deducted, on principle, the cost of the gas which had been burning for one thousand nine hundred and twenty hours. That same evening Mr. Fogg, as tranquilly as ever, said to Aouda, "Is the prospect of our marriage still agreeable to you?"

"Mr. Fogg," she replied, "it is I who ought to have asked you that question. You were ruined then, but now you are rich."

"Excuse me, madam," he replied, "this fortune belongs to you. If you had not thought of the wedding, my servant would never have gone to see Mr. Wilson, and I should not have found out my mistake."

"Dear Mr. Fogg," said the young lady.

"My dearest Aouda," replied Phileas Fogg.

The marriage took place forty-eight hours afterwards, and Passe-partout, beaming and resplendent, gave the bride away. Had he not saved her life, and was he not entitled to the honour?

On the wedding morning Passe-partout knocked at his master's door.

"What is the matter, Passe-partout?"

"Well, sir, I have just this moment found out that we might have gone round the world in seventy-eight days only."

"No doubt," replied Mr. Fogg, "if we had not crossed India; but if I had not crossed India we should not have rescued Mrs. Aouda, and she would never have been my wife."

 

And Mr. Fogg shut the door quietly.

So Phileas Fogg won his wager, and made the tour of the world in eighty days. To do this he had made use of every means of transport – steamers, railways, carriages, yacht, trading-ship, sledges, and elephants. That eccentric gentleman had displayed all through his most marvellous qualities of coolness and exactness; and after all what had he really gained? What had he brought back?

"Nothing," do you say? Well, perhaps so, if a charming woman is nothing, who, however extraordinary it may appear, made him the happiest of men.

And in truth, reader, would not you go round the world for less than that?

THE END
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