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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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