Works of Jules Verne/Round the World in Eighty Days/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE ENTIRE SPLENDID VALLEY OF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF LOOKING AT IT
The bold abduction had succeeded. An hour after Passepartout was still laughing at his success. Sir Francis Cromarty grasped the hand of the brave fellow. His master said to him, "Good," which in that gentleman's mouth was equivalent to high praise. To which Passepartout replied that all the honor of the affair belonged to his master. As for himself he had only had a "droll" idea, and he laughed in thinking that for a few moments he, Passepartout, the former gymnast, the ex-sergeant of firemen, had been the widower of a charming woman, an old embalmed rajah!
As for the young Indian widow, she had no knowledge of what had passed. Wrapped up in traveling cloaks, she was resting in one of the howdahs.
Meanwhile the elephant, guided with the greatest certainty by the Parsee, moved on rapidly through the still dark forest. One hour after having left the pagoda of Pillaji, he shot across an immense plain. At seven o'clock they halted. The young woman was still in a state of complete prostration. The guide made her drink a few swallows of water and brandy, but the stupefying influence which overwhelmed her continued for some time longer. Sir Francis Cromarty, who knew the effects of intoxication produced by inhalation of the fumes of hemp, had no uneasiness on her account.
But if the restoration of the young woman was not a question in the general's mind, he was not less assured for the future. He did not hesitate to say to Phileas Fogg that if Aouda remained in India, she would inevitably fall again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were scattered throughout the entire peninsula, and notwithstanding the English police, they would certainly be able to recapture their victim, whether at Madras, at Bombay, or at Calcutta. And in support of this remark, Sir Francis quoted a fact of the same nature which had recently transpired. According to his view, the young woman would really not be safe until after leaving India. Phileas Fogg replied that he would note these remarks and think them over.
Towards ten o'clock the guide announced the station of Allahabad. The interrupted line of the railway recommenced there, whence trains traverse, in less than a day and a night, the distance separating Allahabad from Calcutta.
Phileas Fogg ought then to arrive in time to take a steamer which would not leave until the next day, October 25, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in a waiting-room of the station. Passepartout was directed to purchase for her various articles of dress, such as a robe, shawl, furs, etc., whatever he could find. His master opened an unlimited credit for him.
Passepartout went out immediately and ran through the streets of the city. Allahabad, that is, the "City of God," is one of the most venerated of India, on account of its being built at the junction of two sacred rivers, the Ganges and the Jumna, whose waters attract pilgrims from the whole peninsula. It is said also that, according to the legends of the Ramayana, the Ganges takes its source in heaven, whence, thanks to Brahma, it descends upon the earth.
In making his purchases, Passepartout had soon seen the city, at one time defended by a magnificent fort, which has become a State prison. There are no more commerce and no more manufactures in this city, formerly a manufacturing and commercial point. Passepartout, who vainly sought a variety shop, such as there was in Regent street, a few steps off from Farmer & Co., found only at a second-hand dealer's, an old whimsical Jew, the objects which he needed—a dress of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a magnificent otter-skin pelisse, for which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. Then, quite triumphant, he returned to the station.
Aouda commenced to revive. The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected her, disappeared by degrees, and her beautiful eyes resumed all their Indian softness.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul celebrates the charms of the Queen of Ahemhnagara, he thus expresses himself, "Her shining tresses, regularly divided into two parts, encircle the harmonious outlines of her delicate and white cheeks, brilliant with their glow and freshness. Her ebony eyebrows have the form and strength of the bow of Kama, god of love; and under her long silken lashes, in the black pupil of her large limpid eyes, there float, as in the sacred lakes of the Himalaya, the purest reflections of the celestial light. Fine, regular, and white, her teeth shine out between her smiling lips, like dew-drops in the half-closed bosom of the pomegranate blossom. Her ears, types of the symmetric curves, her rosy hands, her little feet, curved and tender as lotus buds, shine with the splendor of the finest pearls of Ceylon, the most beautiful diamonds of Golconda. Her delicate and supple waist, which a hand can clasp, heightens the elegant outline of her rounded figure, and the wealth of her bosom, where youth in its prime displays its most perfect treasures, and under the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modeled in pure silver by the divine hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
But, without all this poetic amplification, it is sufficient to say that Aouda, the widow of the rajah of Bundelcund, was a charming woman in the entire European acceptation of the phrase. She spoke English fluently and with great purity, and the guide had not exaggerated in asserting that this young Parsee woman had been transformed by education.
Meanwhile the train was about to leave Allahabad. The Parsee was waiting. Mr. Fogg paid him the compensation agreed upon, without exceeding it a farthing. This astonished Passepartout a little, who knew everything that his master owed to the devotion of the guide. The Parsee, in fact, had risked his life voluntarily in the affair at Pillaji; and if, later, the Hindoos should learn it, he would hardly escape their vengeance.
The question of Kiouni also remained. What would be done with an elephant bought so dearly?
But Phileas Fogg had already taken a resolution upon this point.
"Parsee," he said to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Do you wish this elephant? It is yours."
The eyes of the guide sparkled.
"Your honor is giving me a fortune!" he cried.
"Accept, guide," replied Mr. Fogg, "and I will be yet your debtor."
"Good!" cried Passepartout. "Take him, friend! Kiouni is a brave and courageous animal." And going to the brave he gave him some lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here!"
The elephant uttered some grunts of satisfaction. Then taking Passepartout by the waist, and encircling him with his trunk, he raised him as high as his head. Passepartout, not at all frightened, caressed the animal, who replaced him gently on the ground, and to the shaking of the honest Kiouni's trunk there answered a vigorous shaking of the good fellow's hand.
A few moments after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout, seated in a comfortable car, the best seat in which Aouda occupied, were running at full speed towards Benares. Eighty miles at the most separate this place from Allahabad, and they were passed over in two hours.
During this passage the young woman completely revived; the drowsy fumes of the "hang" disappeared. What was her astonishment to find herself on this railway, in this compartment clothed in European habiliments, in the midst of travelers entirely unknown to her. At first her companions gave her the greatest care, and revived her with a few drops of liquor; then the brigadier general told the story. He dwelt upon the devotion of Phileas Fogg, who had not hesitated to stake his life to save her, and upon the denouement of the adventure, due to the bold imagination of Passepartout.
Mr. Fogg let him go on without saying a word. Passepartout, quite ashamed, repeated that "it was not worth while."
Aouda thanked her deliverers profusely, by her tears more than by her words. Her beautiful eyes, rather than her lips, were the interpreters of her gratitude. Then, her thoughts carrying her back to the scenes of the suttee, seeing again the Indian country where so many dangers still awaited her, she shuddered with terror.
Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and, to reassure her, offered, very coolly, to take her to Hong Kong, where she might remain until this affair had died out. Aouda accepted the offer gratefully. At Hong Kong there resided one of her relatives, a Parsee like herself, and one of the principal merchants of that city, which is entirely English, though occupying a point on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve, noon, the train stopped at the Benares station. The Brahmin legends assert that this place occupies the site of the ancient Casi, which was formerly suspended in space, between the zenith and the nadir, like Mahomet's tomb. But at this more material period Benares, the Athens of India, was prosaically resting on the earth, and Passepartout could for an instant see its brick houses, its clay huts, which gave it a very desolate appearance, without any local color.
Here was where Sir Francis Cromarty was going to stop. The troops which he was rejoining were camping a few miles to the north of the city. The brigadier general then made his adieus to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all possible success, and expressing the wish that he would recommence the journey in a less original, but more profitable manner. Mr. Fogg pressed lightly his companion's fingers. The parting greetings of Aouda were more demonstrative. She would never forget what she owed Sir Francis Cromarty. As for Passepartout he was honored with a hearty shake of the hand by the general. Quite affected, he asked where and when he could be of service to him. Then they parted.
Leaving Benares, the railway followed in part the valley of the Ganges. Through the windows of the car, the weather being quite clear, appeared the varied country of Behar, mountains covered with verdure, fields of barley, corn, and wheat, jungles full of green alligators, villages well kept, forests yet green. A few elephants, and zebus with large humps, came to bathe in the waters of the sacred river, and also notwithstanding the advanced season and the already cold temperature, bands of Hindoos of both sexes, who were piously performing their holy ablutions.
All this panorama passed like a flash, and frequently a cloud of steam concealed its details from them. The travelers could scarcely see the fort of Chunar, twenty miles to the southeast of Benares, the old stronghold of the rajahs of Behar, Ghazepour, and its large rose-water manufactories; the tomb of Lord Cornwallis rising on the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar; Patna, the great manufacturing and commercial city, where the principal opium market in India is held; Monghir, a more than European town, as English as Manchester or Birmingham, famous for its iron foundries, its manufactories of cutlery, and whose high chimneys cover with a black smoke the heavens of Brahma—a real fist-blow in the country of dreams!
Then night came, and in the midst of the howlings of the tigers, the bears, and the wolves, which fled before the locomotive, the train passed on at full speed, and they saw nothing of the wonders of Bengal, or Golconda, or Gour in ruins, or Mourshedabad, the former capital, or Burdwan, or Hougly, or Chandernagar, that French point in the Indian territory, on which Passepartout would have been proud to see his native flag floating.
Finally, at seven o'clock A. M., Calcutta was reached. The steamer to leave for Hong Kong did not weigh anchor until noon. Phileas Fogg had then five hours before him.
According to his journal, this gentleman should arrive in the capital of India, October 25, twenty-three days after leaving London, and he arrived there on the stipulated day. He was neither behind nor ahead of time. Unfortunately the two days gained by him between London and Bombay had been lost, we know how, in this trip across the Indian peninsula, but it is to be supposed that Phileas Fogg did not regret them.