Adventure stories; Voyages around the world -- Fiction
The dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised the next day, if
they had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home. His doors and
windows were still closed, no appearance of change was visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout instructions to
purchase some provisions, and quietly went to his domicile.
He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity. Ruined! And by
the blundering of the detective! After having steadily traversed that
long journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, and
still found time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by a
sudden event which he could not have foreseen, and against which he was
unarmed; it was terrible! But a few pounds were left of the large sum
he had carried with him. There only remained of his fortune the twenty
thousand pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to his
friends of the Reform Club. So great had been the expense of his tour
that, even had he won, it would not have enriched him; and it is
probable that he had not sought to enrich himself, being a man who
rather laid wagers for honour’s sake than for the stake proposed. But
this wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg’s course, however, was fully decided upon; he knew what
remained for him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, who was
overwhelmed with grief at her protector’s misfortune. From the words
which Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditating some serious
project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resort to
the desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watch
upon his master, though he carefully concealed the appearance of so
doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and had
extinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eighty days. He
had found in the letter-box a bill from the gas company, and he thought
it more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he had been
doomed to bear.
The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep? Aouda did not
once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, like a faithful
dog, at his master’s door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda’s
breakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself. He desired Aouda to
excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time would be absorbed all
day in putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would ask
permission to have a few moment’s conversation with the young lady.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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