Latest / Classic Adventure Books Collection / 14 - Around The World in Eighty Days - Jules Verne
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- Chapter fourteen, in which Phileas Fogg descends the whole length of the beautiful valley of the Ganges without ever thinking of seeing it. The rash exploit had been accomplished, and for an hour Passpartout laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow's hand, and his master said, well done, which from him was high commendation, to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the affair belonged to mister Fogg, as for him he had only been struck with a queer idea, and he laughed to think that for a few moments he Passepartout the ex chimnast ex Sergeant Fireman had been the spouse of a charming woman of Venerable embalmd Raja. As for the young Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout what was passing, and now wrapped up in a traveling blanket, was reposing in one of the howda. The elephant, thanks to the skillful guidance of the Parsi, was advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and an hour after leaving the pagoda had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at seven o'clock. The young woman being still in a state of complete prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy in water, but the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. Sir Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account, but he was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas Fogg that should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were scattered throughout the country and would despite the English police recover their victim at Madras, Bombay or Calcutta. She would only be safe by quitting India forever. Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter. The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and the interrupted line of railway being resumed would enable them to reach Calcutta in less than twenty four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next day, October twenty fifth at noon for Hong Kong. The young woman was placed in one of the waiting rooms of the station, whilst pass Partout was charged with purchasing for her various articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs, for which his master gave him unlimited credit. Pass Partout started off forthwith and found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the city of God, one of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the two sacred rivers Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract pilgrims from every part of the peninsula the Ganges, according to the legends of the Ramayana, whence, owing to Brahma's agency, it descends to the earth. Passepartout made it a point as he made his purchases to take a good look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has since become a state prison. Its commerce has dwindled away, and Passepartout in vain, looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty jew who sold second hand articles and from whom he purchased a dress of scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otterskin pelisse, for which he did not hesitate to pay seventy five pounds. He then returned triumphantly to the station. The influence to which the priests of Pelagi had subjected Aouda began gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes resumed all their soft Indian expression. When the poet King ukaf Uddaal celebrates the charms of the Queen of Amanagara, he speaks thus her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircled the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Karna, the god of Love, and beneath her long silken lashes, the purest reflections and a celestial light swim as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes, Her teeth fine equal, and white glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion flower's half enveloped breast, her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet eat curved in slender as the lotus bud, glittered with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure, and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures, and beneath the silken folds of her tunic, she seems to have been modeled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvar Karma, the immortal sculptor. It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsoy to Aouda, that she was a charming woman in all the European acceptation of the phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not exaggerated in saying that the young Parsi had been transformed by her bringing up. The train was about to start from Allahabad, and mister Fogg proceeded to pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing more, which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master owed to the guide's devotion. He had indeed risked his life in the adventure at Pelagi, and if he should be caught afterwards by the Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Chilluni also must be disposed of what should be done with the elephant which had been so dearly purchased. Phileas Fogg had already determined this question, Parsi said he to the guide, you have been serviceable and devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you like to have this elephant? He is yours? The guide's eyes glistened. Your honor is giving me a fortune, cried he. Take him. Guide returned mister Fogg, and I shall still be your debtor. Good, exclaimed Passepartout. Take him, friend, Chiuni is brave and faith beast. And going up to the elephant, he gave him several lumps of sugar, saying here, CuNi, here here. The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and clasping Passepartout around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head. Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which replaced him gently on the ground. Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty and Passepartout, installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself in this carriage on the railway, dressed in European abiliments and with travelers who were quite strangers to her. Her companions first set about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis narrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and the recounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of Passepartout's rash idea. Mister Fogg said nothing, while Passepartout abashed kept repeating that it wasn't worth telling. Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers rather with tears than words. Her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips. Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice and recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror. Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind and offered, in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might remain safely until the affair was hushed up, an offer which she eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsi relation, who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast. At half past twelve, the train stopped at Banars. The Brahmin legends assert that this city is built on the side of the ancient Khasi, which, like Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth. Though the Banars of today, which the Orientalists call the Athens of India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth. Passepartout caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of desolation to the place as the train entered it. Banarus was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination. The troops he was rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade adieu to Vileas Fogg, wishing him all success and expressing the hope that he would come that way again. In a less original, but more profitable fashion. Mister Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The parting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis betrayed more warmth, and as for passepartout, he received a hearty shake of the hand from the gallant general. The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage, the travelers had glimpses of the diversified landscape of Bihar, with its mountains clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat and corn, its jungles peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still thickly leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the Sacred River, and groups of Indians. Despite the advanced season and chilly air were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deity being Vishnu, the solar god Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural forces am Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. What would these divinities think of India, anglicized as it is to day, With steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls which float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and the faithful dwelling upon its borders. The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam concealed it fitfully from the view, the travelers could scarcely discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles southwestward from Benaris, the ancient stronghold of the Rajas of Behar or Ghazipur and its famous rose water factories, or the tomb of Lord cornwallis rising on the left bank of the Ganges. The fortified town of Buksar or Patna, a large manufacturing and trading place where is held the principal opium market of India or Munghir, a more than European town, for it is as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron factories, edged tool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke. Heavenward night came on. The train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the roaring of the tigers, bears and wolves which fled before the locomotive, and the marvels of Bengal Golconda ruined Gower, Mrschetabad, the ancient capital Burdwan Hugli, and the French town of Chandranagore, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his country's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness. Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for Hong Kong at noon, so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him. According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the twenty fifth of October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was therefore neither behindhand nor ahead of time. The two days game between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen in the journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg regretted them end of chapter