4.3 Around the World in Eighty Days
This novel is written by Jules Gabriel Verne (1828 to 1905) a French novelist,
poet, and playwright. Verne wrote widely popular series of
adventure novels including Journey to the Center of the Earth
(1864), Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870), and
Around the World in Eighty Days (1873).
Characters
Minor Characters
• Sir Francis Cromarty
• John Bunsby
• The Reform Club Members
• The Parsee Guide
• Colonel Stamp Proctor
• Mr. Camerfield
• Mr. Mandiboy
• Elder William Hitch
• Mudge
• Captain Speedy
Major Characters
• Phileas Fogg
• Passepartout
• Aouda
• Detective Fix
THEME
The novel is full of adventure and the excitement which the readers come across and enjoy from the beginning to the end. Phileas Fogg, the major character in the novel, accepts the challenge to go around the world in eighty days and in accomplishing this feat(पराक्रम) he goes through various lands and meets with diverse (विविध) adventures. Thus the novel proceeds at a fast pace and there is always some excitement resulting from the various encounters. The beauty of the novel is that the writer takes the readers to a journey of many hair-raising (रोमांचक)incidents and exciting, adventurous, thrilling yet beautiful places in the world.
The most important feature of this adventure novel is ‘Time’. It illustrates (स्पष्ट)repeatedly that time is fickle (अस्थिर,), and eitherworks for or against them. In many cases, time foils (उद्ध्वस्त)their plans, when the delays (उशीर)build up and ships and trains leave without them that sometimes land the characters in trouble.
In the end, Fogg wins the bet as he gained a day when crossing the International Date Line. The ultimate message is that no one can control time; time will work the way it wants to work, and humans are at its mercy.
Before his journey around the world, Fogg lived a solitary life. He closed himself off to others and cared little about the way he was perceived by other people. By the end of the trip, though, he recognizes the importance of human connections, both in the form of love, with Aouda, and friendship and loyalty, with Passepartout. Above all, this new understanding and appreciation is the greatest thing he has gained from this trip.
Though he has the opportunity to double his fortune,(संपत्ती) Fogg’s motivation to embark (आरंभ)on such a crazy adventure has little to do with the money. Instead, he wants to preserve his honour(सन्मान) and prove his worth to the men of the Reform Club, to show that he can do what he sets out to do. Fogg spends nearly all of his money along the way, showing that riches are not what he is truly out for. For Phileas Fogg, honour is more important than money.
Throughout the entire trip, Fogg and his group encounter(तोंड देणे) various obstacles standing in their way. These challenges allow them to use their quick thinking to come up with innovative (नावीन्य पूर्ण ) solutions to even the most complicated of problems, relaying the message that no problem is unsolvable. It is not only Fogg who shows his clever wit in coming up with solutions; Passepartout, too, shows his ingenuity (skill) in multiple situations
PLOT
.Around the World in Eighty Days begins at the Reform Club in England with Phileas
Fogg, Thomas Flanagan, Samuel Fallentin, and John Sullivan sitting by a fireplace
reading newspapers. We are introduced to Fogg, a very precise ( अचूक) man who regularly goes
to the Reform Club every evening.
At the Reform Club, Fogg, Flanagan, Fallentin, and Sullivan are talking about
a recent bank robbery. This conversation leads to a wager. Fogg is quite sure he can
travel around the world in eighty days, while Sullivan doesn’t believe it can be done.
Sullivan, Flanagan, and Fallentin think Fogg is not considering the unexpected;
all of the men accept the wager (पैंज) for twenty-thousand pounds.
This is the beginning of the entire plot and from then on we see how Fogg goes
around the world and we witness the amazing adventures that he has with his companions.
The main plot is based on Fogg’s travels, while other such plots merely support the
central theme. Fix, the detective, followsFogg all over. He believes that Fogg is the
bank robber who has robbed a great sum from the bank of England. He puts obstacles
in Fogg’s path just so that he can arrest him whenever he gets the warrant from England.
The suspicion (शंका) that Fogg might be a clever gentleman robber is the sub-theme of the
book and the author makes the reader also suspicious. Passepartout too wonders whether
his master might be a robber though in his heart he has ample trust in Fogg’s integrity (अखंडता).
The plot moves ahead with Fogg striving (प्रयत्नशील)through various obstacles to reach London
in time. He goes through Brindisi, Suez, Bombay (Now Mumbai), Calcutta (Now
Kolkata), Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York and finally Liverpool.
Fix arrests Fogg at Liverpool and this delays Fogg a bit. He thinks that he has missed
the deadline and hasn’t reached London in time when in reality he reached a full day
earlier. Thus Fogg wins the wager and in the course of his travels, finds himself a worthy
charming, beautiful wife too.
SYNOPSIS OF THE EXTRACT
As soon as Fogg, Aouda and
Passepartout arrive in Liverpool, Fix arrests
Fogg. Phileas is thrown in jail. Several
hours later, though, Fix learns that another
man was responsible for the bank robbery,
and he releases Fogg, who orders a special
train. However, he arrives in London late,
making everyone disappointed (नाराज).
Phileas and company are now broke,
the deadline for the bet has passed, and
there’s nothing to do but go home
and pout(नाराज,दुर्मुखणे). Phileas locks
himself in his room and, for
the first time, allows himself to be seriously
depressed. Aouda and Passepartout are so
worried that they too can’t eat or sleep.
The following evening Fogg apologizes
to Aouda for being unable to provide for
her comfort as a result of losing the bet.
She in turn proposes marriage to him, and
he joyfully agrees. Passepartout is sent
to engage a clergyman,(चर्च मधील पाद्री ) he runs
off to get a reverend to marry Fogg and
Aouda the next day (which they all think is Monday).
While running to grab the nearest preacher
(to marry Phileas and Aouda), Passepartout
finds out that it’s actually Sunday, not
Monday, like the group has been thinking.
By travelling eastward around the world,
Phileas Fogg, master calculator and
obsessive organizer, has forgotten the time
he’s gained by journeying (प्रवास करत) through all those
time zones.
He learns that their journey through the
time zones had gained them a day and that
they are not at all late. Passepartout races
home, grabs ( पकडणे)Phileas by the collar,
shoves ( PUSH ,ढकलणे)him into a cab,
and deposits him at the club.
Phileas presents himself with minutes
to spare and effectively wins the bet. He’s
rich once more, but more important (as he
says to himself), he has won the heart of a
“charming” woman.
Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter XXXIV
In which Phileas Fogg at last reaches
London
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had
been shut up in the Custom House, and he
was to be transferred to London the next
day.
Passepartout, when he saw his
master arrested, would have fallen upon
Fix had he not been held back by some
policemen. Aouda was thunderstruck(थक्क)
at the suddenness of an event which
she could not understand. Passepartout
explained to her how it was that the
honest and courageous Fogg was arrested
as a robber. The young woman’s heart
revolted (बंड )against so heinous (दृष्ट) a charge,
and when she saw that she could attempt to
do nothing to save her protector, she wept(रडणे) bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg
because it was his duty, whether Mr. Fogg
was guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout,
that he was the cause of this new
misfortune! Had he not concealed (लपवलेला) Fix’s
errand (प्रवास) from his master? When Fix
revealed his true character and purpose,
why had he not told Mr. Fogg? If the latter
had been warned, he would no doubt have
given Fix proof of his innocence, and
satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix
would not have continued his journey at
the expense (खर्च)and on the heels of his master,
only to arrest him the moment he set foot
on English soil. Passepartout wept till he
was blind, and felt like blowing his brains
out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite
the cold, under the portico(गेट) of the Custom
House. Neither wished to leave the place;
both were anxious to see Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined (उधवस्त ),
and that at the moment when he was
about to attain his end. This arrest was
fatal. (प्राण घातक )Having arrived at Liverpool at
twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st
of December, he had till a quarter before
nine that evening to reach the Reform
Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter;
the journey from Liverpool to London
was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had
entered the Custom House, he would
have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless,
calm, and without apparent(स्पष्ट) anger, upon
a wooden bench. He was not, it is true,
resigned (सहन); but this last blow failed to force
him into an outward betrayal (विश्वास घात) of any
emotion. Was he being devoured (नाश)by one
of those secret rages,(राग) all the more terrible
because contained, and which only burst
forth, with an irresistible force, at the last
moment? No one could tell. There he sat,
calmly waiting—for what? Did he still
cherish (काळजी,प्रेम )hope? Did he still believe, now
that the door of this prison was closed
upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr.
Fogg carefully put his watch upon the
table, and observed its advancing hands.
Not a word escaped his lips, but his
look was singularly set and stern (कडक). The
situation, in any event, was a terrible one,
and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg
was honest he was ruined; if he was a
knave,(आप्रामाणिक) he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he
examine to see if there was any practicable(सुकर)
outlet from his prison? Did he think of
escaping from it? Possibly; for once he
walked slowly around the room. But the
door was locked, and the window heavily
barred with iron rods. He sat down again,
and drew his journal from his pocket. On
the line where these words were written,
“21st December, Saturday, Liverpool,”
he added, “80th day, 11.40 a.m.,” and
waited.
The Custom House clock struck one.
Mr. Fogg observed that his watch was
two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he was at
this moment taking an express train, he
could reach London and the Reform Club
by a quarter before nine p.m. his forehead
slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he
heard a singular noise outside, then a
hasty(घाईने) opening of doors. Passepartout’s
voice was audible, and immediately after
that of Fix. Phileas Fogg’s eyes brightened
for an instant.
The door swung open, and he saw
Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who
hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair
was in disorder. He could not speak. “Sir,”
he stammered, (भडकलेला)“Sir-forgive me-most-
unfortunate resemblance-robber arrested
three days ago-you are free!”
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to
the detective, looked him steadily in the
face, and with the only rapid motion he
had ever made in his life, or which he ever
would make, drew back his arms, and
with the precision (तंतोतंतपणा) of a machine,
knocked Fix down.“Well hit!” cried Passepartout,
“Parbleu! that’s what you might call a
good application of English fists!”
Fix, who found himself on the
floor, did not utter a word. He had only
received his desserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda,
and Passepartout left the Custom House
without delay, got into a cab, and
in a few moments descended (खाली उतरणे) at the station.
Phileas Fogg asked if there was an
express train about to leave for London.
It was forty minutes past two.
The express train had left thirty-five minutes before.
Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives (इंजिन)on hand;
but the railway arrangements did not permit
the special train to leave until three o’clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having
stimulated (उतेजीत)the engineer by the offer of a
generous reward, at last set out towards
London with Aouda and his faithful
servant.
It was necessary to make the journey
in five hours and a half; and this would
have been easy on a clear road throughout.
But there were forced delays, and when Mr. Fogg
stepped from the train at the terminus,
all the clocks in London were striking
ten minutes before nine.
Having made the tour of the world,
he was behind-hand five minutes.
He had lost the wager!
Chapter XXXV(35)
In which Phileas Fogg does not have
to repeat his orders to Passepartout
twice
THE dwellers (रहिवासी) in Saville Row (place)would
have been surprised the next day, if they
had been told that Phileas Fogg had
returned home. His doors and windows
were still closed, no appearance of change
was visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg
gave Passepartout instructions to purchase
some provisions, and quietly went to his
domicile.
He bore his misfortune(दुर्दैव) with his
habitual tranquillity (शांतत).
Ruined! And by the blundering(मूर्ख) of the detective!
After having steadily traversed that long journey,
overcome a hundred obstacles, braved (बहादर)
many dangers, and still found time to do
some good on his way,
to fail near the goal by a sudden event which he could
not have foreseen, and against which he
was unarmed; it was terrible!
But a few pounds were left of the large sum he had
carried with him.
There only remained of his fortune the twenty
thousand pounds deposited at Barings, and
this amount he owed to his friends of the Reform Club.
So great had been the expense of his tour
that, even had he won, it would not have
enriched him; and it is probable that he
had not sought to enrich himself, being a
man who rather laid wagers for honour’s
sake than for the stake (भाग भांडवल) proposed. But this
wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg’s course, however, was fully
decided upon; he knew what remained for
him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row
was set apart(वेगळे) for Aouda, who was
overwhelmed with grief at her protector’s
misfortune. From the words which Mr.
Fogg dropped, she saw that he was
meditating (चिंतन) some serious project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed(कारभार)
by a fixed idea sometimes resort to
the desperate (हताश) expedient (उपाय ) of suicide,
Passepartout kept a narrow watch upon
his master, though he carefully concealed
the appearance of so doing.
He had found a bill from the gas
company.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone
up to his room, and had extinguished (विझवला) the
gas burner, which had been burning for
eighty days. He had found in the letter-
box a bill from the gas company, and he
thought it more than time to put a stop to
this expense, which he had been doomed
to bear.
The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to
bed, but did he sleep?Aouda did not once
close her eyes. Passepartout watched all
night, like a faithful dog, at his master’s
door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning,
and told him to get Aouda’s breakfast,
and a cup of tea and a chop for himself.
He desired Aouda to excuse him from
breakfast and dinner, as his time would
be absorbed all day in putting his affairs
to rights. In the evening he would ask
permission to have a few moment’s
conversation with the young lady.
Passepartout, having received his
orders, had nothing to do but obey them.
He looked at his imperturbable master,
and could scarcely bring his mind to
leave him. His heart was full, and his
conscience tortured by remorse; for he
accused himself more bitterly than ever
of being the cause of the irretrievable
disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg,
and had betrayed Fix’s projects to him,
his master would certainly not have given
the detective passage to Liverpool, and
then—
Passepartout could hold in no longer.
“My master! Mr. Fogg!” he cried,
“why do you not curse me? It was my
fault that—”
“I blame no one,” returned Phileas
Fogg, with perfect calmness. “Go!”
Passepartout left the room, and went
to find Aouda, to whom he delivered his
master’s message.
“Madam,” he added, “I can do nothing
myself—nothing! I have no influence
over my master; but you, perhaps—”
“What influence could I have?”
replied Aouda. “Mr. Fogg is influenced
by no one. Has he ever understood that
my gratitude to him is overflowing? Has
he ever read my heart? My friend, he must
not be left alone an instant! You say he is
going to speak with me this evening?”
“Yes, madam; probably to arrange for
your protection and comfort in England.”
“We shall see,” replied Aouda,
becoming suddenly pensive.
Throughout this day (Sunday)
the house in Saville Row was as if
uninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for
the first time since he had lived in that
house, did not set out for his club when
Westminster clock struck half-past eleven.
Why should he present himself at the
Reform? His friends no longer expected
him there. As Phileas Fogg had not
appeared in the saloon on the evening
before (Saturday, the 21st of December,
at a quarter before nine), he had lost his
wager. It was not even necessary that he
should go to his bankers for the twenty
thousand pounds; for his antagonists
already had his cheque in their hands, and
they had only to fill it out and send it to the
Barings to have the amount transferred to
their credit.Mr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason
for going out, and so he remained at
home. He shut himself up in his room,
and busied himself putting his affairs in
order. Passepartout continually ascended
and descended the stairs. The hours were
long for him. He listened at his master’s
door, and looked through the keyhole, as
if he had a perfect right so to do, and as
if he feared that something terrible might
happen at any moment. Sometimes he
thought of Fix, but no longer in anger. Fix,
like all the world, had been mistaken in
Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty
in tracking and arresting him; while he,
Passepartout. . . . This thought haunted
him, and he never ceased cursing his
miserable folly.
Finding himself too wretched to
remain alone, he knocked at Aouda’s
door, went into her room, seated himself,
without speaking, in a corner, and looked
ruefully at the young woman. Aouda was
still pensive.
About half-past seven in the evening
Mr. Fogg sent to know if Aouda would
receive him, and in a few moments he
found himself alone with her.
Phileas Fogg took a chair, and sat
down near the fireplace, opposite Aouda.
No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg
returned was exactly the Fogg who had
gone away; there was the same calm, the
same impassibility.
He sat several minutes without
speaking; then, bending his eyes on
Aouda, “Madam,” said he, “will you
pardon me for bringing you to England?”
“I, Mr. Fogg!” replied Aouda,
checking the pulsations of her heart.
“Please let me finish,” returned Mr.
Fogg. “When I decided to bring you far
away from the country which was so
unsafe for you, I was rich, and counted
on putting a portion of my fortune at
your disposal; then your existence would
have been free and happy. But now I am
ruined.”
“I know it, Mr. Fogg,” replied Aouda;
“and I ask you in my turn, will you forgive
me for having followed you, and—who
knows?—for having, perhaps, delayed
you, and thus contributed to your ruin?”
“Madam, you could not remain in
India, and your safety could only be
assured by bringing you to such a distance
that your persecutors could not take you.”
“So, Mr. Fogg,” resumed Aouda, “not
content with rescuing me from a terrible
death, you thought yourself bound to
secure my comfort in a foreign land?”
“Yes, madam; but circumstances have
been against me. Still, I beg to place the
little I have left at your service.”
“But what will become of you, Mr.
Fogg?”
“As for me, madam,” replied the
gentleman, coldly, “I have need of
nothing.”
“But how do you look upon the fate,
sir, which awaits you?”
“As I am in the habit of doing.”
“At least,” said Aouda, “want should
not overtake a man like you. Your
friends—”
“I have no friends, madam.”
“Your relatives—”
“I have no longer any relatives.”
“I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude
is a sad thing, with no heart to which to
confide your griefs. They say, though, that
misery itself, shared by two sympathetic
souls, may be borne with patience.”
“They say so, madam.”
“Mr. Fogg,” said Aouda, rising and
seizing his hand, “do you wish at once a
kinswoman and friend? Will you have me
for your wife?”
Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn.
There was an unwonted light in his
eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips.
Aouda looked into his face. The sincerity,
rectitude, firmness, and sweetness of this
soft glance of a noble woman, who could
dare all to save him to whom she owed
all, at first astonished, then penetrated
him. He shut his eyes for an instant, as if
to avoid her look. When he opened them
again, “I love you!” he said, simply. “Yes,
by all that is holiest, I love you, and I am
entirely yours!”
“Ah!” cried Aouda, pressing his hand
to her heart.
Passepartout was summoned and
appeared immediately. Mr. Fogg still held
Aouda’s hand in his own; Passepartout
understood, and his big, round face
became as radiant as the tropical sun at
its zenith.
Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too
late to notify the Reverend Samuel Wilson,
of Marylebone parish, that evening.
Passepartout smiled his most genial
smile, and said, “Never too late.”
It was five minutes past eight.
“Will it be for to-morrow, Monday?”
“For to-morrow, Monday,” said Mr.
Fogg, turning to Aouda.
“Yes; for to-morrow, Monday,” she
replied.
Passepartout hurried off as fast as his
legs could carry him.
Chapter XXXVI
In which Phileas Fogg’s name is
once more at a premium on ‘change’.
It is time to relate what a change took
place in English public opinion when it
transpired that the real bankrobber, a
certain James Strand, had been arrested,
on the 17th day of December, at Edinburgh.
Three days before, Phileas Fogg had been
a criminal, who was being desperately
followed up by the police; now he was an
honourable gentleman, mathematically
pursuing his eccentric journey round the
world.
The papers resumed their discussion
about the wager; all those who had laid
bets, for or against him, revived their
interest, as if by magic; the “Phileas
Fogg bonds” again became negotiable,
and many new wagers were made.
Phileas Fogg’s name was once more at a
premium on ‘Change.
His five friends of the Reform Club
passed these three days in a state of
feverish suspense. Would Phileas Fogg,
whom they had forgotten, reappear
before their eyes! Where was he at this
moment? The 17th of December, the day
of James Strand’s arrest, was the seventy-
sixth since Phileas Fogg’s departure, and
no news of him had been received. Was
he dead? Had he abandoned the effort, or
was he continuing his journey along the
route agreed upon? And would he appear
on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a
quarter before nine in the evening, on the
threshold of the Reform Club saloon?
The anxiety in which, for three
days, London society existed, cannot be
described. Telegrams were sent to America
and Asia for news of Phileas Fogg.
Messengers were dispatched to the house
in Saville Row morning and evening. No
news. The police were ignorant what had
become of the detective, Fix, who had so
unfortunately followed up a false scent.
Bets increased, nevertheless, in number
and value. Phileas Fogg, like a racehorse,
was drawing near his last turning-point.
The bonds were quoted, no longer at
a hundred below par, but at twenty, at
ten, and at five; and paralytic old Lord
Albemarle bet even in his favour.
A great crowd was collected in
Pall Mall and the neighbouring streets
on Saturday evening; it seemed like
a multitude of brokers permanently
established around the Reform Club.
Circulation was impeded, and everywhere
disputes, discussions, and financial
transactions were going on. The police
had great difficulty in keeping back the
crowd, and as the hour when Phileas Fogg
was due approached, the excitement rose
to its highest pitch.
The five antagonists of Phileas Fogg
had met in the great saloon of the club.
John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the
bankers, Andrew Stuart, the engineer,
Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank
of England, and Thomas Flanagan, the
brewer, one and all waited anxiously.
When the clock indicated twenty
minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart got up,
saying, “Gentlemen, in twenty minutes
the time agreed upon between Mr. Fogg
and ourselves will have expired.”
“What time did the last train arrive
from Liverpool?” asked Thomas
Flanagan.
“At twenty-three minutes past seven,”
replied Gauthier Ralph; “and the next does
not arrive till ten minutes after twelve.”
“Well, gentlemen,” resumed Andrew
Stuart, “if Phileas Fogg had come in the
7:23 train, he would have got here by this
time. We can, therefore, regard the bet as
won.”
“Wait; don’t let us be too hasty,”
replied Samuel Fallentin. “You know that
Mr. Fogg is very eccentric. His punctuality
is well known; he never arrives too soon,
or too late; and I should not be surprised if
he appeared before us at the last minute.”
“Why,” said Andrew Stuart nervously,
“if I should see him, I should not believe
it was he.”
“The fact is,” resumed Thomas
Flanagan, “Mr. Fogg’s project was
absurdly foolish. Whatever his
punctuality, he could not prevent the
delays which were certain to occur; and a
delay of only two or three days would be
fatal to his tour.”
“Observe, too,” added John Sullivan,
“that we have received no intelligence
from him, though there are telegraphic
lines all along is route.”
“He has lost, gentleman,” said
Andrew Stuart, “he has a hundred times
lost! You know, besides, that the China
the only steamer he could have taken
from New York to get here in time
arrived yesterday. I have seen a list of the
passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg
is not among them. Even if we admit that
fortune has favoured him, he can scarcely
have reached America. I think he will be
at least twenty days behind-hand, and
that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool five
thousand.”
“It is clear,” replied Gauthier Ralph;
“and we have nothing to do but to present
Mr. Fogg’s cheque at Barings to-morrow.”
At this moment, the hands of the club
clock pointed to twenty minutes to nine.
“Five minutes more,” said Andrew
Stuart.
The five gentlemen looked at each
other. Their anxiety was becoming
intense; but, not wishing to betray it,
they readily assented to Mr. Fallentin’s
proposal of a rubber.
“I wouldn’t give up my four thousand
of the bet,” said Andrew Stuart, as he took
his seat, “for three thousand nine hundred
and ninety-nine.”
The clock indicated eighteen minutes
to nine.
The players took up their cards, but
could not keep their eyes off the clock.
Certainly, however secure they felt,
minutes had never seemed so long to
them!
“Seventeen minutes to nine,” said
Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the cards
which Ralph handed to him.
Then there was a moment of silence.
The great saloon was perfectly quiet; but
the murmurs of the crowd outside were
heard, with now and then a shrill cry. The
pendulum beat the seconds, which each
player eagerly counted, as he listened,
with mathematical regularity.
“Sixteen minutes to nine!” said John
Sullivan, in a voice which betrayed his
emotion.
One minute more, and the wager
would be won. Andrew Stuart and his
partners suspended their game. They left
their cards, and counted the seconds.
At the fortieth second, nothing. At the
fiftieth, still nothing.
At the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was
heard in the street, followed by applause,
hurrahs, and some fierce growls.
The players rose from their seats.
“Here I am, gentlemen!”
At the fifty-seventh second the door
of the saloon opened; and the pendulum
had not beat the sixtieth second when
Phileas Fogg appeared, followed by an
excited crowd who had forced their way
through the club doors, and in his calm
voice, said, “Here I am, gentlemen!”
Chapter XXXVII
In which it is shown that Phileas
Fogg gained nothing by his tour around
the world, unless it were happiness Yes;
Phileas Fogg in person.
The reader will remember that at five
minutes past eight in the evening—about
five and twenty hours after the arrival of
the travellers in London—Passepartout
had been sent by his master to engage the
services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson
in a certain marriage ceremony, which
was to take place the next day.
With his hair in disorder, and without
his hat, he ran...
Passepartout went on his errand
enchanted. He soon reached the
clergyman’s house, but found him not at
home. Passepartout waited a good twenty
minutes, and when he left the reverend
gentleman, it was thirty-five minutes past
eight. But in what a state he was! With
his hair in disorder, and without his hat,
he ran along the street as never man was
seen to run before, overturning passers-
by, rushing over the sidewalk like a
waterspout.
In three minutes he was in Saville
Row again, and staggered back into Mr.
Fogg’s room.
He could not speak.
“What is the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.
“My master!” gasped Passepartout—
“marriage—impossible—”
“Impossible?”
“Impossible—for to-morrow.”
“Why so?”
“Because to-morrow—is Sunday!”
“Monday,” replied Mr. Fogg.
“No—to-day is Saturday.”
“Saturday? Impossible!”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” cried
Passepartout. “You have made a mistake
of one day! We arrived twenty-four hours
ahead of time; but there are only ten
minutes left!”
Passepartout had seized his master by
the collar, and was dragging him along
with irresistible force.
Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped,
without having time to think, left his
house, jumped into a cab, promised a
hundred pounds to the cabman, and,
having run over two dogs and overturned
five carriages, reached the Reform Club.
The clock indicated a quarter before
nine when he appeared in the great saloon.
Phileas Fogg had accomplished the
journey round the world in eighty days!
Phileas Fogg had won his wager of
twenty thousand pounds!
How was it that a man so exact and
fastidious could have made this error
of a day? How came he to think that he
had arrived in London on Saturday, the
twenty-first day of December, when it was
really Friday, the twentieth, the seventy-
ninth day only from his departure?
The cause of the error is very simple.
Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting
it, gained one day on his journey, and
this merely because he had travelled
constantly eastward; he would, on the
contrary, have lost a day had he gone in
the opposite direction, that is, westward.
In journeying eastward he had gone
towards the sun, and the days therefore
diminished for him as many times four
minutes as he crossed degrees in this
direction. There are three hundred and
sixty degrees on the circumference of the
earth; and these three hundred and sixty
degrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives
precisely twenty-four hours—that is, the
day unconsciously gained. In other words,
while Phileas Fogg, going eastward, saw
the sun pass the meridian eighty times,
his friends in London only saw it pass the
meridian seventy-nine times. This is why
they awaited him at the Reform Club on
Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg
thought.
And Passepartout’s famous family
watch, which had always kept London
time, would have betrayed this fact, if it
had marked the days as well as the hours
and the minutes!
Phileas Fogg, then, had won the
twenty thousand pounds; but, as he had
spent nearly nineteen thousand on the
way, the pecuniary gain was small. His
object was, however, to be victorious,
and not to win money. He divided the one
thousand pounds that remained between
Passepartout and the unfortunate Fix,
against whom he cherished no grudge. He
deducted, however, from Passepartout’s
share the cost of the gas which had burned
in his room for nineteen hundred and
twenty hours, for the sake of regularity.
That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil
and phlegmatic as ever, said to Aouda:
“Is our marriage still agreeable to you?”
“Mr. Fogg,” replied she, “it is for me
to ask that question. You were ruined, but
now you are rich again.”
“Pardon me, madam; my fortune
belongs to you. If you had not suggested
our marriage, my servant would not have
gone to the Reverend Samuel Wilson’s,
I should not have been apprised of my
error, and—”
“Dear Mr. Fogg!” said the young
woman.
“Dear Aouda!” replied Phileas Fogg.
It need not be said that the marriage
took place forty-eight hours after, and that
Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave
the bride away. Had he not saved her, and
was he not entitled to this honour?
The next day, as soon as it was light,
Passepartout rapped vigorously at his
master’s door. Mr. Fogg opened it, and
asked, “What’s the matter, Passepartout?”
“What is it, sir? Why, I’ve just this
instant found out—
”“What?”
“That we might have made the tour
of the world in only seventy-eight days.”
“No doubt,” returned Mr. Fogg, “by
not crossing India. But if I had not crossed
India, I should not have saved Aouda; she
would not have been my wife, and—”
Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.
Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and
had made his journey around the world in
eighty days. To do this he had employed
every means of conveyance—steamers,
railways, carriages, yachts, trading-
vessels, sledges, elephants. The eccentric
gentleman had throughout displayed all
his marvellous qualities of coolness and
exactitude. But what then? What had he
really gained by all this trouble? What
had he brought back from this long and
weary journey?
Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing
but a charming woman, who, strange as
it may appear, made him the happiest of
men!
Truly, would you not for less than that
make the tour around the world?
No comments:
Post a Comment