IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT
IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET
OFF WITH THE LOSS OF HIS
SHOES
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of
land, with its base in the north and its apex in the south,
which is called India, embraces fourteen hundred thousand
square miles, upon which is spread unequally a population
of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The British
Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the
larger portion of this vast country, and has a governor-
general stationed at Calcutta, governors at Madras,
Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor at
Agra.
But British India, properly so called, only embraces
seven hundred thousand square miles, and a population of
from one hundred to one hundred and ten millions of
inhabitants. A considerable portion of India is still free
from British authority; and there are certain ferocious
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rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. The
celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from
1756, when the English first gained a foothold on the spot
where now stands the city of Madras, down to the time of
the great Sepoy insurrection. It gradually annexed
province after province, purchasing them of the native
chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-
general and his subordinates, civil and military. But the
East India Company has now passed away, leaving the
British possessions in India directly under the control of
the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well as the
manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old
cumbrous methods of going on foot or on horseback, in
palanquins or unwieldly coaches; now fast steamboats ply
on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great railway, with
branch lines joining the main line at many points on its
route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in
three days. This railway does not run in a direct line across
India. The distance between Bombay and Calcutta, as the
bird flies, is only from one thousand to eleven hundred
miles; but the deflections of the road increase this distance
by more than a third.
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The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula
Railway is as follows: Leaving Bombay, it passes through
Salcette, crossing to the continent opposite Tannah, goes
over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence north-
east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent
territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns
thence eastwardly, meeting the Ganges at Benares, then
departs from the river a little, and, descending south-
eastward by Burdivan and the French town of
Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.
The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-
past four p.m.; at exactly eight the train would start for
Calcutta.
Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners,
left the steamer, gave his servant several errands to do,
urged it upon him to be at the station promptly at eight,
and, with his regular step, which beat to the second, like
an astronomical clock, directed his steps to the passport
office. As for the wonders of Bombay its famous city hall,
its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,
synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda
on Malabar Hill, with its two polygonal towers— he cared
not a straw to see them. He would not deign to examine
even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or the mysterious
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hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those
fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian
grottoes of the island of Salcette.
Having transacted his business at the passport office,
Phileas Fogg repaired quietly to the railway station, where
he ordered dinner. Among the dishes served up to him,
the landlord especially recommended a certain giblet of
'native rabbit,' on which he prided himself.
Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its
spiced sauce, found it far from palatable. He rang for the
landlord, and, on his appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes
upon him, 'Is this rabbit, sir?'
'Yes, my lord,' the rogue boldly replied, 'rabbit from
the jungles.'
'And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?'
'Mew, my lord! What, a rabbit mew! I swear to you—'
'Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember
this: cats were formerly considered, in India, as sacred
animals. That was a good time.'
'For the cats, my lord?'
'Perhaps for the travellers as well!'
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix
had gone on shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first
destination was the headquarters of the Bombay police.
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He made himself known as a London detective, told his
business at Bombay, and the position of affairs relative to
the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had
arrived from London. It had not reached the office;
indeed, there had not yet been time for it to arrive. Fix
was sorely disappointed, and tried to obtain an order of
arrest from the director of the Bombay police. This the
director refused, as the matter concerned the London
office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant. Fix
did not insist, and was fain to resign himself to await the
arrival of the important document; but he was determined
not to lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he
stayed in Bombay. He did not doubt for a moment, any
more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain
there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his
master's orders on leaving the Mongolia than he saw at
once that they were to leave Bombay as they had done
Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended at
least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He
began to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about
was not really in good earnest, and whether his fate was
not in truth forcing him, despite his love of repose, around
the world in eighty days!
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Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes,
he took a leisurely promenade about the streets, where
crowds of people of many nationalities—Europeans,
Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round turbans,
Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and
long-robed Armenians—were collected. It happened to be
the day of a Parsee festival. These descendants of the sect
of Zoroaster—the most thrifty, civilised, intelligent, and
austere of the East Indians, among whom are counted the
richest native merchants of Bombay—were celebrating a
sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows, in
the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-
coloured gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced
airily, but with perfect modesty, to the sound of viols and
the clanging of tambourines. It is needless to say that
Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with
staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance
was that of the greenest booby imaginable.
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his
curiosity drew him unconsciously farther off than he
intended to go. At last, having seen the Parsee carnival
wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps
towards the station, when he happened to espy the
splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill, and was seized with an
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irresistible desire to see its interior. 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. It may be said
here that the wise policy of the British Government
severely punishes a disregard of the practices of the native
religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like
a simple tourist, and was soon lost in admiration of the
splendid Brahmin ornamentation which everywhere met
his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself sprawling on
the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enraged
priests, who forthwith fell upon him; 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 knocking down two of his long-gowned
adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of his
toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs
could carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by
mingling with the crowd in the streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless,
shoeless, and having in the squabble lost his package of
shirts and shoes, rushed breathlessly into the station.
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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,
quite crestfallen, followed his master without a word. Fix
was on the point of entering another carriage, when an
idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
'No, I'll stay,' muttered he. 'An offence has been
committed on Indian soil. I've got my man.'
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the
train passed out into the darkness of the night.
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Chapter XI
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS
OF CONVEYANCE AT A
FABULOUS PRICE
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, one of
Mr. Fogg's whist partners on the Mongolia, now on his
way to join his corps at Benares. Sir Francis was a tall, fair
man of fifty, who had greatly distinguished himself in the
last Sepoy revolt. 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, took no
pains to inquire into these subjects; he was a solid body,
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traversing an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according
to the laws of rational mechanics. He was at this moment
calculating in his mind the number of hours spent since his
departure from London, and, had it been in his nature to
make a useless demonstration, would have rubbed his
hands for satisfaction. Sir Francis Cromarty had observed
the oddity of his travelling companion—although the only
opportunity he had for studying him had been while he
was dealing the cards, and between two rubbers—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. The brigadier-general
was free to mentally confess that, of all the eccentric
persons he had ever met, none was comparable to this
product of the exact sciences.
Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his
design 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 sound common
sense. In the way this strange gentleman was going on, he
would leave the world without having done any good to
himself or anybody else.
An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the
viaducts and the Island of Salcette, and had got into the
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open country. At Callyan they reached the junction of the
branch line which descends towards south-eastern India by
Kandallah and Pounah; and, passing Pauwell, they entered
the defiles of the mountains, with their basalt bases, and
their summits crowned with thick and verdant forests.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty exchanged a few
words from time to time, and now Sir Francis, reviving
the conversation, observed, 'Some years ago, Mr. Fogg,
you would have met with a delay at this point which
would probably have lost you your wager.'
'How so, Sir Francis?'
'Because the railway stopped at the base of these
mountains, which the passengers were obliged to cross in
palanquins or on ponies to Kandallah, on the other side.'
'Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the
least,' said Mr. Fogg. 'I have constantly foreseen the
likelihood of certain obstacles.'
'But, Mr. Fogg,' pursued Sir Francis, 'you run the risk
of having some difficulty about this worthy fellow's
adventure at the pagoda.' Passepartout, his feet
comfortably wrapped in his travelling-blanket, was sound
asleep and did not dream that anybody was talking about
him. 'The Government is very severe upon that kind of
offence. It takes particular care that the religious customs
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of the Indians should be respected, and if your servant
were caught—'
'Very well, Sir Francis,' replied Mr. Fogg; 'if he had
been caught he would have been condemned and
punished, and then would have quietly returned to
Europe. I don't see how this affair could have delayed his
master.'
The conversation fell again. During the night the train
left the mountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next
day proceeded over the flat, well-cultivated country of the
Khandeish, with its straggling villages, above which rose
the minarets of the pagodas. This fertile territory is
watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams,
mostly tributaries of the Godavery.
Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not
realise that he was actually crossing India in a railway train.
The locomotive, guided by an English engineer and fed
with English coal, threw out its smoke upon cotton,
coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations, while the
steam curled in spirals around groups of palm-trees, in the
midst of which were seen picturesque bungalows, viharis
(sort of abandoned monasteries), and marvellous temples
enriched by the exhaustless ornamentation of Indian
architecture. Then they came upon vast tracts extending
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to the horizon, with jungles inhabited by snakes and tigers,
which fled at the noise of the train; succeeded by forests
penetrated by the railway, and still haunted by elephants
which, with pensive eyes, gazed at the train as it passed.
The travellers crossed, beyond Milligaum, the fatal country
so often stained with blood by the sectaries of the goddess
Kali. Not far off rose Ellora, with its graceful pagodas, and
the famous Aurungabad, capital of the ferocious Aureng-
Zeb, now the chief town of one of the detached provinces
of the kingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts that
Feringhea, the Thuggee chief, king of the stranglers, held
his sway. These ruffians, united by a secret bond, strangled
victims of every age in honour of the goddess Death,
without ever shedding blood; there was a period when this
part of the country could scarcely be travelled over
without corpses being found in every direction. The
English Government has succeeded in greatly diminishing
these murders, though the Thuggees still exist, and pursue
the exercise of their horrible rites.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor
where Passepartout was able to purchase some Indian
slippers, ornamented with false pearls, in which, with
evident vanity, he proceeded to encase his feet. The
travellers made a hasty breakfast and started off for
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Assurghur, after skirting for a little the banks of the small
river Tapty, which empties into the Gulf of Cambray,
near Surat.
Passepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie.
Up to his arrival at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that
their journey would end there; but, now that they were
plainly whirling across India at full speed, a sudden change
had come over the spirit of his dreams. His old vagabond
nature returned to him; the fantastic ideas of his youth
once more took possession of him. He came to regard his
master's project as intended in good earnest, believed in
the reality of the bet, and therefore in the tour of the
world and the necessity of making it without fail within
the designated period. Already he began to worry about
possible delays, and accidents which might happen on the
way. He recognised himself as being personally interested
in the wager, and trembled at the thought that he might
have been the means of losing it by his unpardonable folly
of the night before. Being much less cool-headed than Mr.
Fogg, he was much more restless, counting and recounting
the days passed over, uttering maledictions when the train
stopped, and accusing it of sluggishness, and mentally
blaming Mr. Fogg for not having bribed the engineer. The
worthy fellow was ignorant that, while it was possible by
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such means to hasten the rate of a steamer, it could not be
done on the railway.
The train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains,
which separate the Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards
evening. The next day Sir Francis Cromarty asked
Passepartout what time it was; to which, on consulting his
watch, he replied that it was three in the morning. This
famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich
meridian, which was now some seventy-seven degrees
westward, was at least four hours slow. Sir Francis
corrected Passepartout's time, whereupon the latter made
the same remark that he had done to Fix; and upon the
general insisting that the watch should be regulated in each
new meridian, since he was constantly going eastward,
that is in the face of the sun, and therefore the days were
shorter by four minutes for each degree gone over,
Passepartout obstinately refused to alter his watch, which
he kept at London time. It was an innocent delusion
which could harm no one.
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!'
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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 on.'
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.'
'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.
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'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 would willingly
have knocked the conductor down, and 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, which I have already
gained, 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.'
There was nothing to say to so confident a response.
It was but too true that the railway came to a
termination at this point. The papers were like some
watches, which have a way of getting too fast, and had
been premature in their announcement of the completion
of the line. The greater part of the travellers were aware of
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this interruption, and, leaving the train, they began to
engage such vehicles as the village could provide four-
wheeled palkigharis, waggons drawn by zebus, carriages
that looked like perambulating 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, who had now rejoined his master, made a
wry grimace, as he thought of his magnificent, but too
frail Indian shoes. Happily he too had been looking about
him, and, 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, near which, enclosed
within some high palings, was the animal in question. An
Indian came out of the hut, and, at their request,
conducted them within the enclosure. The elephant,
which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but
for warlike purposes, was half domesticated. The Indian
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had begun already, by often irritating him, and feeding
him every three months on sugar and butter, to impart to
him a ferocity not in his nature, this method being often
employed by those who train the Indian elephants for
battle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal's
instruction in this direction had not gone far, and the
elephant still preserved his natural gentleness. Kiouni—this
was the name of the beast—could doubtless travel rapidly
for a long time, and, in default of any other means of
conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants
are far from cheap in India, where they are becoming
scarce, the males, which alone are suitable for circus
shows, are much sought, especially as but few of them are
domesticated. When therefore Mr. Fogg proposed to the
Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank. Mr. Fogg
persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour
for the loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty
pounds? Refused also. Forty pounds? Still refused.
Passepartout jumped at each advance; but the Indian
declined to be tempted. Yet the offer was an alluring one,
for, supposing it took the elephant fifteen hours to reach
Allahabad, his owner would receive no less than six
hundred pounds sterling.
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Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then
proposed to purchase the animal outright, and at first
offered a thousand pounds for him. The Indian, perhaps
thinking he was going to make a great bargain, still
refused.
Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged
him to reflect before he went any further; to which that
gentleman replied that he was not in the habit of acting
rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds was at stake,
that the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and that
he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his
value. Returning to the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes,
glistening with avarice, betrayed that with him it was only
a question of how great a price he could obtain. Mr. Fogg
offered first twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred,
eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. Passepartout,
usually so rubicund, was fairly white with suspense.
At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
'What a price, good heavens!' cried Passepartout, 'for
an elephant.
It only remained now to find a guide, which was
comparatively easy. A young Parsee, with an intelligent
face, offered his services, which Mr. Fogg accepted,
promising so generous a reward as to materially stimulate
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his zeal. The elephant was led out and equipped. The
Parsee, who was an accomplished elephant driver, covered
his back with a sort of saddle-cloth, and attached to each
of his flanks some curiously uncomfortable howdahs.
Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some banknotes which
he extracted from the famous carpet-bag, a proceeding
that seemed to deprive poor Passepartout of his vitals.
Then he offered to carry Sir Francis to Allahabad, which
the brigadier gratefully accepted, as one traveller the more
would not be likely to fatigue the gigantic beast.
Provisions were purchased at Kholby, and, while Sir
Francis and Mr. Fogg took the howdahs on either side,
Passepartout got astride the saddle-cloth between them.
The Parsee perched himself on the elephant's neck, and at
nine o'clock they set out from the village, the animal
marching off through the dense forest of palms by the
shortest cut.
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Chapter XII
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
AND HIS COMPANIONS
VENTURE ACROSS THE
INDIAN FORESTS, AND
WHAT ENSUED
In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the
left of the line where the railway was still in process of
being built. This line, owing to the capricious turnings of
the Vindhia Mountains, did not pursue a straight course.
The Parsee, who was quite familiar with the roads and
paths in the district, declared that they would gain twenty
miles by striking directly through the forest.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the
neck in the peculiar howdahs provided for them, were
horribly jostled by the swift trotting of the elephant,
spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee; but they
endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talking
little, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As
for Passepartout, who was mounted on the beast's back,
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and received the direct force of each concussion as he trod
along, he was very careful, in accordance with his master's
advice, to keep his tongue from between his teeth, as it
would otherwise have been bitten off short. The worthy
fellow bounced from the elephant's neck to his rump, and
vaulted like a clown on a spring-board; yet he laughed in
the midst of his bouncing, and from time to time took a
piece of sugar out of his pocket, and inserted it in Kiouni's
trunk, who received it without in the least slackening his
regular trot.
After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and
gave him an hour for rest, during which Kiouni, after
quenching his thirst at a neighbouring spring, set to
devouring the branches and shrubs round about him.
Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and
both descended with a feeling of relief. 'Why, he's made
of iron!' exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on
Kiouni.
'Of forged iron,' replied Passepartout, as he set about
preparing a hasty breakfast.
At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The
country soon presented a very savage aspect. Copses of
dates and dwarf-palms succeeded the dense forests; then
vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty shrubs, and sown with
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great blocks of syenite. All this portion of Bundelcund,
which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by a
fanatical population, hardened in the most horrible
practices of the Hindoo faith. The English have not been
able to secure complete dominion over this territory,
which is subjected to the influence of rajahs, whom it is
almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible mountain
fastnesses. The travellers several times saw bands of
ferocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant
striding across-country, made angry arid threatening
motions. The Parsee avoided them as much as possible.
Few animals were observed on the route; even the
monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and
grimaces which convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought
troubled the worthy servant. What would Mr. Fogg do
with the elephant when he got to Allahabad? Would he
carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive.
Would he sell him, or set him free? The estimable beast
certainly deserved some consideration. Should Mr. Fogg
choose to make him, Passepartout, a present of Kiouni, he
would be very much embarrassed; and these thoughts did
not cease worrying him for a long time.
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The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by
eight in the evening, and another halt was made on the
northern slope, in a ruined bungalow. They had gone
nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an equal distance
still separated them from the station of Allahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the
bungalow with a few dry branches, and the warmth was
very grateful, provisions purchased at Kholby sufficed for
supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The
conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases,
soon gave place to loud and steady snores. The guide
watched Kiouni, who slept standing, bolstering himself
against the trunk of a large tree. Nothing occurred during
the night to disturb the slumberers, although occasional
growls front panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke
the silence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or
hostile demonstration against the occupants of the
bungalow. Sir Francis slept heavily, like an honest soldier
overcome with fatigue. Passepartout was wrapped in
uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for
Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in
his serene mansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the
guide hoped to reach Allahabad by evening. In that case,
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