In which Phileas Fogg does not
have to repeat his orders to
Passepartout twice
The dwellers in Saville Row
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 with
his habitual tranquillity. Ruined!
And by the blundering of the
detective! After having steadily
traversed that long journey,
overcome a hundred obstacles,
braved 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 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 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 some serious project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed
by a fixed idea sometimes resort
to the desperate expedient of
suicide, Passepartout kept a
narrow watch upon his master,
though he carefully concealed
the appearance of so doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow
had gone up to his room, and
had extinguished 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.
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