by Jules Verne
Chapter 12
In Which Phileas Fogg and His Companions Ventureacross the Indian Forests, and What Follows
In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left ofthe line where the railway was still in process of being built.This line, owing to the capricious turnings of the VindhiaMountains, did not pursue a straight course. The Parsee, who wasquite familiar with the roads and paths in the district, declaredthat they would gain twenty miles by striking directly throughthe forest.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in thepeculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by theswift trotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by theskillful Parsee. But they endured the discomfort with trueBritish phlegm, talking little, and scarcely able to catch aglimpse of each other.
As for Passepartout, who was mounted on the beast's back, andreceived the direct force of each concussion as he walked along,he was very careful, in accordance with his master's advice, tokeep his tongue from between his teeth, as it would otherwisehave been bitten off short. The worthy fellow bounced from theelephant's neck to his rump, and vaulted like a clown on aspring-board; yet he laughed in the midst of his bouncing, andfrom time to time took a piece of sugar out of his pocket, andinserted it in Kiouni's trunk, who received it without in theleast slackening his regular trot.
After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him anhour for rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst ata neighboring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubsround about him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted thedelay, and both descended with a feeling of relief. "Why, he'smade of iron!" exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly onKiouni.
"Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparinga hasty breakfast.
At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soonpresented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf-palmssucceeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted withscanty shrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite. All thisportion of Bundelcund, which is little frequented by travelers,is inhabited by a fanatical population, hardened in the mosthorrible practices of the Hindoo faith. The English have not beenable to secure complete dominion over this territory, which issubjected to the influence of rajahs, whom it is almostimpossible to reach in their inaccessible mountain retreats. Thetravelers several times saw bands of ferocious Indians, who, whenthey perceived the elephant striding across-country, made angryand threatening motions. The Parsee avoided them as much aspossible. Few animals were observed on the route. Even themonkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaceswhich convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled theworthy servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when hegot to Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! Thecost of transporting him would make him ruinously expensive.Would he sell him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainlydeserved some consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him,Passepartout, a present of Kiouni, he would be very muchembarrassed. These thoughts did not cease worrying him for a longtime.
The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in theevening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in aruined bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day,and an equal distance still separated them from the station ofAllahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with afew dry branches, and the warmth was much appreciated. Provisionspurchased at Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travelers ateravenously. The conversation, beginning with a few disconnectedphrases, soon gave place to loud and steady snores. The guidewatched Kiouni, who slept standing, bolstering himself againstthe trunk of a large tree. Nothing occurred during the night todisturb the slumberers, although occasional growls from panthersand chatterings of monkeys broke the silence; the more formidablebeasts made no cries or hostile demonstration against theoccupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept heavily, like anhonest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout was wrapped inuneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for Mr. Fogg,he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serenemansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning. The guide hoped toreach Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would onlylose a part of the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning ofthe tour. Kiouni, resuming his rapid gait, soon descended thelower spurs of the Vindhias, and towards noon they passed by thevillage of Kallenger, on the Cani, one of the branches of theGanges. The guide avoided inhabited places, thinking it safer tokeep the open country, which lies along the first depressions ofthe basin of the great river. Allahabad was now only twelve milesto the northeast They stopped under a clump of bananas, the fruitof which, as healthy as bread and as succulent as cream, waseaten and appreciated.
At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extendedseveral miles. He preferred to travel under cover of the woods.They had not as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and thejourney seemed on the point of being successfully accomplished,when the elephant, becoming restless, suddenly stopped.
It was then four o'clock.
"What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
"I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listeningattentively to a confused murmur which came through the thickbranches.
The murmur soon became more distinct. It now seemed like adistant concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments.Passepartout was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waitedwithout a word. The Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened theelephant to a tree, and plunged into the thicket. He soonreturned, saying: "A procession of Brahmins is coming this way.We must prevent their seeing us, if possible."
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, atthe same time asking the travelers not to stir. He held himselfready to bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flightbecome necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession ofthe faithful would pass without perceiving them amid the thickfoliage, in which they were wholly concealed.
The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer,and now droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourinesand cymbals. The head of the procession soon appeared beneath thetrees, a hundred paces away; and the strange figures whoperformed the religious ceremony were easily distinguishedthrough the branches. First came the priests, with mitres ontheir heads, and clothed in long lace robes. They were surroundedby men, women and children, who sang a kind of lugubrious psalm,interrupted at regular intervals by the tambourines and cymbals;while behind them was drawn a car with large wheels, the spokesof which represented serpents entwined with each other. Upon thecar, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus, stood ahideous statue with four arms, the body colored a dull red, withhaggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lipstinted with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of aprostrate and headless giant.
Sir Francis, recognizing the statue, whispered, "The goddessKali. The goddess of love and death."
"Of death, perhaps," muttered Passepartout, "but of love--thatugly old hag? Never!"
The Parsee made a motion to keep silent.
A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado roundthe statue. They were striped with ochre, and covered with cutswhence their blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, inthe great Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under thewheels of Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all thesumptuousness of Oriental apparel, and leading a woman whofaltered at every step, followed. This woman was young, and asfair as an European. Her head and neck, shoulders, ears, arms,hands and toes were loaded down with jewels and gems--withbracelets, earrings and rings; while a tunic bordered with gold,and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of herform.
The guards who followed the young woman presented a violentcontrast to her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung attheir waists, and long damascened pistols, an
d bearing a corpseon a palanquin. It was the body of an old man, gorgeouslyarrayed in the dress of a rajah, wearing, as in life, a turbanembroidered with pearls, a robe of tissue of silk and gold, ascarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds and the magnificent weaponsof a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians and a rearguard ofcapering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the noise of theinstruments. These closed the procession.
Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and,turning to the guide, said, "A suttee."
The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The processionslowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappearedin the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away.Occasionally cries were heard in the distance, until at last allwas silence again.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as theprocession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but avoluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burnedtomorrow at the dawn of day."
"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not represshis indignation.
"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide. "Anindependent rajah of Bundelcund."
"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying notthe least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist inIndia, and that the English have been unable to put a stop tothem?"
"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India,"replied Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savageterritories, and especially here in Bundelcund. The wholedistrict north of the Vindhias is the theatre of incessantmurders and pillage."
"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout. "To be burned alive!"
"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not,you cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submitto from her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her ona scanty allowance of rice, treat her with contempt. She would belooked upon as an unclean creature, and would die in some corner,like a scurvy dog. The prospect of so frightful an existencedrives these poor creatures to the sacrifice much more than loveor religious fanaticism. Sometimes, however, the sacrifice isreally voluntary, and it requires the active interference of theGovernment to prevent it. Several years ago, when I was living atBombay, a young widow asked permission of the governor to beburned along with her husband's body; but, as you may imagine, herefused. The woman left the town, took refuge with an independentrajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."
While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head severaltimes, and now said: "The sacrifice which will take placetomorrow at dawn is not a voluntary one."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making anyresistance," observed Sir Francis.
"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp andopium."
"But where are they taking her?"
"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here. She will pass thenight there."
"And the sacrifice will take place--"
"Tomorrow, at the first light of dawn."
The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leapedupon his neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urgeKiouni forward with a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him,and, turning to Sir Francis Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save thiswoman."
"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
"I have yet twelve hours to spare. I can devote them to that."
"Why, you are a man of heart!"
"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly, "when I have thetime."
