by Jules Verne
Chapter 4
In Which Phileas Fogg Astounds Passepartout
Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of hisfriends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, leftthe Reform Club.
Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the program of hisduties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of theinexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour. According torule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg went to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called. Itwas 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 inten minutes."
A puzzled grin spread over Passepartout's round face. Clearly hehad 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 uphis hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he withstupefied astonishment.
"Round the world!" he murmured.
"In eighty days?" responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment tolose."
"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying hishead from right to left.
"We'll have no trunks. Only a carpetbag, with two shirts andthree pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We'll buyour clothes on the way. Bring down my mackintosh andtraveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall do littlewalking. Make haste!"
Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mountedto 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. Wasthis a joke, then? They were going to Dover. Good! To Calais.Good again! After all, Passepartout, who had been away fromFrance five years, would not be sorry to set foot on his nativesoil again. Perhaps they would go as far as Paris, and it woulddo his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a gentlemanso chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt--but, then, itwas none the less true that he was going away, this formerhomebody.
By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpetbag,containing the wardrobes of his master and himself. Then, stilltroubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, anddescended to Mr. Fogg.
Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observeda red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transitand General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival anddeparture of steamers and railways. He took the carpetbag, openedit, and slipped into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes,which would pass wherever he might go.
"You have forgotten nothing?" he asked.
"Nothing, monsieur."
"My mackintosh and cloak?"
"Here they are.
"Good! Take this carpetbag," handing it to Passepartout. "Takegood care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousandpounds 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 rapidlyto Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station attwenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box andfollowed his master, who, after paying the cabman, was about toenter the station, when a poor beggar woman, with a child in herarms, approached him. Her naked feet were smeared with mud, herhead covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tatteredfeather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl. Shemournfully 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'mglad that I met you"; and passed on.
Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes. His master'saction 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 perceivedhis five friends of the Reform Club.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "I'm off, you see; and, if you willexamine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judgewhether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon."
"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralphpolitely. "We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honor."
"You do not forget when you are due in London again?" askedStuart. "In eighty days. On Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872,at a quarter before nine P.M. Good-by, gentlemen."
Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-classcarriage at twenty minutes before nine. Five minutes later thewhistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.
The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. PhileasFogg, leaning back in his corner, did not open his lips.Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clungmechanically to the carpetbag, with its enormous treasure.
Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartoutsuddenly 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."
