aving
won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends, Phileas
Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.
Passepartout,
who had conscientiously studied the programme of his duties, was more than
surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness of appearing at this
unaccustomed hour; for, according to rule, he was not due in Saville Row
until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg
repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
Passepartout
did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was not the right
hour.
"Passepartout!"
repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
Passepartout
made his appearance.
"I've
called you twice," observed his master.
"But it
is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.
"I know
it; I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten minutes."
A puzzled
grin overspread Passepartout's round face; clearly he had not comprehended
his master.
"Monsieur
is going to leave home?"
"Yes,"
returned Phileas Fogg. "We are going round the world."
Passepartout
opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands, and seemed
about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment.
"Round
the world!" he murmured.
"In eighty
days," responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment to lose."
"But the
trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head from right
to left.
"We'll
have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and three pairs of stockings
for me, and the same for you. We'll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down
my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall
do little walking. Make haste!"
Passepartout
tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to his own room, fell
into a chair, and muttered: "That's good, that is! And I, who wanted to
remain quiet!"
He mechanically
set about making the preparations for departure. Around the world in eighty
days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then? They were going
to Dover; good! To Calais; good again! After all, Passepartout, who had
been away from France five years, would not be sorry to set foot on his
native soil again. Perhaps they would go as far as Paris, and it would
do his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a gentleman so chary
of his steps would stop there; no doubt-- but, then, it was none the less
true that he was going away, this so domestic person hitherto!
By eight
o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag, containing the wardrobes
of his master and himself; then, still troubled in mind, he carefully shut
the door of his room, and descended to Mr. Fogg.
Mr. Fogg
was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound copy
of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide, with
its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways.
He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of
Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever he might go.
"You have
forgotten nothing?" asked he.
"Nothing,
monsieur."
"My mackintosh
and cloak?"
"Here
they are."
"Good!
Take this carpet-bag," handing it to Passepartout. "Take good care of it,
for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
Passepartout
nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold,
and weighed him down.
Master
and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and at the end
of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross. The
cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout
jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman,
was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child
in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched
bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded
in a ragged shawl, approached, and mournfully asked for alms.
Mr. Fogg
took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and handed them to
the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman. I'm glad that I met you;" and
passed on.
Passepartout
had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master's action touched his susceptible
heart.
Two first-class
tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr. Fogg was crossing
the station to the train, when he perceived his five friends of the Reform.
"Well,
gentlemen," said he, "I'm off, you see; and, if you will examine my passport
when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished
the journey agreed upon."
"Oh, that
would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph politely. "We will trust
your word, as a gentleman of honour."
"You do
not forget when you are due in London again?" asked Stuart.
"In eighty
days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine
p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."
Phileas
Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty
minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train
slowly glided out of the station.
The night
was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced
in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout, not yet recovered from
his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous
treasure.
Just as
the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly uttered
a cry of despair.
"What's
the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Alas!
In my hurry--I--I forgot--"
"What?"
"To turn
off the gas in my room!"
"Very
well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn-- at your expense." |