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Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter 4. IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT
Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.
Passepartout had carefully studied the programme of his duties.
He was therefore more than surprised to see his master guilty of not being on time and appearing at this new hour.
By the rules, his master wasn't due in Saville Row until exactly midnight.
Mr. Fogg went to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
Passepartout didn't answer, it couldn't be he who was called, it wasn't the right hour.
"Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
Passepartout came into the room at once, closing the door behind him.
"I've called you twice," said his master.
"But it isn't midnight," answered the other, showing his watch.
"I know it. I don't blame you. We're leaving for Dover and Calais in ten minutes."
A puzzled grin spread over Passepartout's round face.
Clearly he hadn't understood his master.
"Monsieur is going to leave home?" he said.
"Yes," replied Phileas Fogg.
"We're going round the world."
Passepartout opened his eyes wide, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands, and seemed about to fall, so overcome was he with great surprise.
"Round the world!" he said.
"In eighty days," replied Mr. Fogg.
"So we haven't a moment to lose."
"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, moving his head from right to left without meaning to.
"We'll have no trunks, only a carpet-bag with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me and the same for you."
"We'll buy our clothes on the way, so bring my mackintosh and travelling cloak and some strong shoes, though we'll do little walking, make haste"!
Passepartout tried to speak, but couldn't.
He went out, climbed to his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered, "That's good, that's! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!"
He began to make the preparations for leaving in a mechanical way.
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!
After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years, wouldn't be sorry to set foot on his native soil again.
Perhaps they'd go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more.
But surely a gentleman so careful with his steps would stop there, no doubt.
Yet it was no less true that he was leaving, this so domestic person until now!
By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag with the clothes of his master and himself.
Still troubled, he carefully shut his room door, and went down to Mr. Fogg.
Mr. Fogg was quite ready, wearing his coat and holding his travel guide calmly.
Under his arm was a red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide, showing times of steamers and railways.
He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and put a large roll of Bank of England notes inside, accepted wherever he went.
"You have forgotten nothing?" he asked.
"Nothing, monsieur."
"My mackintosh and cloak?"
"Here they're."
"Good! Take this carpet-bag," he said, giving it to Passepartout.
"Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
Passepartout almost dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold and weighed him down.
Master and man went down, the street-door was double-locked, at the end of Saville Row they took a cab to Charing Cross.
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 go into the station.
A poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, came and sadly asked for help.
Her feet were muddy, her head had a bonnet with a torn feather, and her shoulders were wrapped in a ragged shawl.
Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and gave them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman."
"I'm glad that I met you." Then he went on.
Passepartout felt wetness near his eyes, his master's action touched his soft heart.
They quickly bought two first-class tickets to Paris, and Mr. Fogg, crossing the station, saw his five Reform friends.
Well, gentlemen," he said, "I'm off. If you check my passport when I return, you can judge whether I have finished the journey.
"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph politely.
"We'll trust your word, as a gentleman of honour."
"You don't forget when you're due in London again?" asked Stuart.
"In eighty days, on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."
Phileas Fogg and his servant sat in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine.
Five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly left the station.
The night was dark, and a fine steady rain was falling.
Phileas Fogg, safely settled in his corner, didn't open his lips.
Passepartout, not yet over his surprise, held tightly to the carpet-bag with its great treasure.
Just as the train was passing through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly gave a cry of despair.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Alas! In my hurry I. I forgot." said Passepartout.
"What?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"To turn off the gas in my room!" said the other.
"Very well, young man," replied Mr. Fogg coolly.
"It'll burn at your expense."