With
his hair in
disorder,
and
without
his hat,
he ran... |
es;
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.
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?
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