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 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 east-ward, 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!'

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.

`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

上一页  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] 下一页