Вокруг света за 80 дней / Around the World in 80 Days. Жюль ВернЧитать онлайн книгу.

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cats, my lord?”

      “Perhaps for the travellers as well!”

      Fix had gone on shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the Bombay police. He told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs, and nervously asked if a warrant had arrived from London. It had not reached the office. Fix was disappointed, and tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay police. The director refused.

      Passepartout, however, having purchased shirts and shoes, took a leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many nationalities were collected. It happened to be the day of a Parsee festival[58]. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster[59] were celebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows. It is needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with staring eyes and gaping mouth.

      Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him farther off than he intended to go. He happened to see the splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in without first leaving their shoes outside the door.

      Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist, and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation, when of a sudden he found himself sprawling on the sacred floor. He looked up to behold three enraged priests, who tore off his shoes, and began to beat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soon upon his feet again, and lost no time in running away.

      At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and having lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed breathlessly into the station. Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He had resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words to Mr. Fogg.

      “I hope that this will not happen again,” said Phileas Fogg coldly, as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout followed his master without a word. Fix wanted to enter another carriage, when an idea struck him.

      “No, I’ll stay,” muttered he.

      Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out into the darkness of the night.

      Chapter XI

      The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo merchants, whose business called them to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode in the same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a seat opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty[60], one of Mr. Fogg’s whist partners on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps at Benares[61]. Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty. He made India his home, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals; and was almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history, and character of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg, who was not travelling, but only describing a circumference, did not inquire into these subjects; he was a solid body, traversing an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the laws of rational mechanics.

      Sir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his travelling companion, and questioned himself whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold exterior, and whether Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of nature.

      Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his plan of going round the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out; and the general only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity and a lack of common sense.

      Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realise that he was actually crossing India in a railway train. The travellers crossed the fatal country so often stained with blood by the sectaries of the goddess Kali[62]. Not far off rose Ellora[63], with its graceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad[64].

      At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor[65], where Passepartout was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with false pearls.

      The train stopped, at eight o’clock, in the midst of a glade some fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows, and workmen’s cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted, “Passengers will get out here!”

      Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but the general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of this forest of dates and acacias.

      Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily returned, crying: “Monsieur, no more railway!”

      “What do you mean?” asked Sir Francis.

      “I mean to say that the train isn’t going.”

      The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed him, and they proceeded together to the conductor.

      “Where are we?” asked Sir Francis.

      “At the hamlet of Kholby[66].”

      “Do we stop here?”

      “Certainly. The railway isn’t finished.”

      “What! Not finished?”

      “No. There’s still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to Allahabad, where the line begins again.”

      “But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout.”

      “What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken.”

      “Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta,” retorted Sir Francis, who was growing warm.

      “No doubt,” replied the conductor; “but the passengers know that they must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to Allahabad.”

      Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout did not dare to look at his master.

      “Sir Francis,” said Mr. Fogg quietly, “we will, if you please, look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad.”

      “Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage.”

      “No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen.”

      “What! You knew that the way—”

      “Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in time.”

      The greater part of the travellers were aware of this interruption, and, leaving the train, they began to engage such vehicles as the village could provide wagons drawn by zebus, carriages that looked like pagodas, palanquins, ponies, and what not.

      Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village from end to end, came back without having found anything.

      “I shall go afoot,” said Phileas Fogg.

      Passepartout, after a moment’s hesitation, said,

      “Monsieur, I think I have found a means of conveyance.”

      “What?”

      “An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but a hundred steps from here.”

      “Let’s go and see the elephant,” replied Mr. Fogg.

      They soon reached a small hut. An Indian came out of the hut, his elephant was half domesticated.

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