Читать книгу Вокруг света за 80 дней / Around the World in 80 Days - Жюль Верн, Жуль Верн - Страница 5

Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.

When he got to his mansion, Mr. Fogg called out, “Passepartout!”

Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was 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[47] in ten minutes.”

A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face; clearly he had 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 up his hands; he was stupefied.

“Round the world!” he murmured.

“In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg. “So we haven’t a moment to lose.”

“But the baggage?” gasped Passepartout, swaying his head from right to left.

“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag[48], with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We’ll buy our clothes on the way. Make haste!”

Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: “That’s good, that is! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!”

Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then? They were going to Dover; good! To Calais; good again!

By eight o’clock Passepartout had packed the carpet-bag; then he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended to Mr. Fogg.

Mr. Fogg was quite ready. He took the carpetbag, opened it, and slipped into it a roll of Bank of England notes.

“You have forgotten nothing?” asked he.

“Nothing, monsieur.”

“Good! Take this carpet-bag,” handing it to Passepartout. “Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.”

Passepartout nearly dropped the bag.

They then descended, and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross[49]. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, approached, and mournfully 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’m glad that I met you;” and passed on.

Passepartout saw it; his master’s action 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 perceived his five friends of the Reform.

“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I’m off, you see; and you will be able to examine my passport when I get back.”

“Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,” said Ralph politely. “We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour.”

“You do not forget when you are due in London again?” asked Stuart.

“In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before 9 p.m. Goodbye, gentlemen.”

Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.

The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Passepartout suddenly 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.”