by Jules Verne
Chapter 35
In Which Phileas Fogg Does Not Have toRepeat His Orders to Passepartout Twice
The dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised the nextday, if they had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home.His doors and windows were still closed. No appearance of changewas visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartoutinstructions to purchase some provisions, and quietly went to hishome.
He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity. Ruined!And by the blundering of the detective! After having steadilytraveled that long journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, bravedmany dangers, and still found time to do some good on his way, tofail near the goal by a sudden event which he could not haveforeseen, and against which he was unarmed; it was terrible! Buta few pounds were left of the large sum he had carried with him.There only remained of his fortune the twenty thousand poundsdeposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to his friends ofthe Reform Club. So great had been the expense of his tour that,even had he won, it would not have enriched him; and it isprobable that he had not sought to enrich himself, being a manwho rather laid wagers for honor's sake than for the stakeproposed. But this wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon. He knew whatremained for him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, whowas overwhelmed with grief at her protector's misfortune. Fromthe words which Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditatingsome serious project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resortto the desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrowwatch upon his master, though he carefully concealed theappearance of so doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and hadextinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eightydays. 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? Aoudadid not once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, likea faithful dog, at his master's door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda'sbreakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself. He desiredAouda to excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time wouldbe absorbed all day in putting his affairs to rights. In theevening he would ask permission to have a few moment'sconversation with the young lady.
Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to do butobey them. He looked at his imperturbable master, and couldscarcely bring his mind to leave him. His heart was full, and hisconscience tortured by remorse; for he accused himself morebitterly than ever of being the cause of theirretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg, and hadbetrayed Fix's projects to him, his master would certainly nothave 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 wasmy fault that--"
"I blame no one," returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness."Go!"
Passepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom hedelivered his master's message.
"Madam," he added, "I can do nothing myself--nothing! I have noinfluence over my master; but you, perhaps--"
"What influence could I have?" replied Aouda. "Mr. Fogg isinfluenced by no one. Has he ever understood that my gratitude tohim is overflowing? Has he ever read my heart? My friend, he mustnot be left alone an instant! You say he is going to speak withme this evening?"
"Yes, madam, probably to arrange for your protection and comfortin England."
"We shall see," replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.
Throughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville Row was as ifuninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for the first time since he hadlived in that house, did not set out for his club whenWestminster clock struck half-past eleven.
Why should he present himself at the Reform? His friends nolonger expected him there. As Phileas Fogg had not appeared inthe saloon on the evening before (Saturday, the 21st of December,at a quarter before nine), he had lost his wager. It was not evennecessary that he should go to his bankers for the twentythousand pounds; for his antagonists already had his check intheir hands, and they had only to fill it out and send it to theBarings to have the amount transferred to their credit.
Mr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason for going out, and so heremained at home. He shut himself up in his room, and busiedhimself putting his affairs in order. Passepartout continuallyascended 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 to do so, and as if he feared thatsomething terrible might happen at any moment. Sometimes hethought of Fix, but no longer in anger. Fix, like all the world,had been mistaken in Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty intracking and arresting him; while he, Passepartout--This thoughthaunted him, and he never ceased cursing his miserable folly.
Finding himself too wretched to remain alone, he knocked atAouda's door, went into her room, seated himself, withoutspeaking, 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 ifAouda would receive him, and in a few moments he found himselfalone with her.
Phileas Fogg took a chair, and sat down near the fireplaceopposite Aouda. No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg returnedwas exactly the Fogg who had gone away. There was the same calm,the same impassibility.
He sat several minutes without speaking, then, bending his eyeson Aouda, "Madam," he said, "will you pardon me for bringing youto England?"
"I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of herheart.
"Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg. "When I decided tobring you far away from the country which was so unsafe for you,I was rich, and counted on putting a portion of my fortune atyour disposal. Then your existence would have been free andhappy. 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?--forhaving, perhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to yourruin?"
"Madam, you could not remain in India, and your safety could onlybe assured by bringing you to such a distance that yourpersecutors could not take you."
"So, Mr. Fogg," resumed Aouda, "not content with rescuing me froma terrible death, you thought yourself bound to secure my comfortin a foreign land?"
"Yes, madam, but circumstances have been against me. Still, I begto 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 needof 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 noheart to which to confide your griefs. They say, though, thatmisery itself, shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne withpatience."
"They say so, madam."
"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and seizing his hand, "do you wishat once a kinswoman and friend? Will you have me for your wife?"
Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn. There was an unwonted lightin his eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips. Aouda lookedinto his face. The sincerity, rectitude, firmness and sweetnessof this soft glance of a noble woman, who could dare all to savehim to whom she owed all, at first astonished, then penetratedhim. 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, pr
essing his hand to her heart.
Passepartout was summoned and appeared immediately. Mr. Foggstill held Aouda's hand in his own. Passepartout understood, andhis big, round face became as radiant as the tropical sun at itszenith.
Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the ReverendSamuel Wilson, of Marylebone parish, that evening.
Passepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never toolate."
It was five minutes past eight.
"Will it be for tomorrow, Monday?"
"For tomorrow, Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.
"Yes, for tomorrow, Monday," she replied.
Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
