Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold, and weighted him down.

Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly 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 enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, 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 had a moist sensation about the eyes; his masters 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 if you will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.'

`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 nine p.m. Good-bye, 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. Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.

Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, 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.'

福克先生这次打牌赢了二十来个基尼。七点二十五分，他辞别了那些高贵的会友，离开了改良俱乐部。七点五十分，他推开了自家的大门，回到家里。

路路通已经很仔细地研究过自己的工作日程。现在看见福克先生破例提前回家，感到非常奇怪，因为按照那张注意事项表，这位住在赛微乐街的绅士应该晚上十二点回家。

福克先生首先上楼回到自己房里，然后呼唤：“路路通！”

路路通没回答，现在本来就不该叫他，因为还没到时候。

“路路通，”福克先生又叫了一声，可是这一声并不比刚才高。

路路通进来了。

“我叫你叫了两声了。”福克先生说。

“可是现在还没到晚上十二点。”路路通一面看着手里拿着的表，一面回答说。

“我知道，”福克先生说，“我并不是责备你。十分钟以后，我们就要动身到杜伏勒和加来去。”

这个法国人圆圆的面孔上露出一副窘相。显然他以为自己听错了，于是问道：

“先生，您要出远门吗？”

“是的，”福克先生回答说，“我们要去环游地球。”

路路通眼睛睁得大大的，眉毛眼皮直往上翻，两臂下垂，整个身子都软瘫了，由于吃惊而产生的各种怪象都在他身上表现出来了。

“环——游——地——球？！”他嘴里咕哝着。

“对，八十天，环游地球，”福克先生回答说，“所以，我们现在一分钟也不能耽搁了。”

“可是，咱们的行李呢？”路路通说着，不由地把脑袋左右直摇晃。

“用不着什么行李，带个旅行袋就成了。里面放两件羊毛衫、三双袜子，等我们出发以后，在路上再给你照样买一套，你去把我的雨衣和旅行毯拿来。你应该带一双结实的鞋子，其实，我们步行的时候很少，也许根本用不着步行。得了，去吧！”

路路通本想说点什么，但说不出来。他离开福克的房间回到自己屋里，一屁股就坐在椅子上，自言自语地说了一句巴黎人常说的俗话：

“好啊，这一下可真够呛，我还打算过安稳日子呢！”

他机械地做着动身前的准备工作。要八十天绕地球一周！我这是跟疯子打交道吗？不会是真的……他大概是在开玩笑？要上杜伏勒去，好吧，还要去加来，行啊，总而言之，出门旅行，这位棒小伙子也并不十分反对。

上一页  [1] [2] [3] 下一页