Phileas Fogg and His Companions Cross the Indian Forests and What Happened Next

In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of the line where the railway was still in process of being built. This line, owing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia Mountains, did not pursue a straight course. The Parsee, who was quite familiar with the roads and paths in the district, declared that they would gain twenty miles by striking directly through the forest.

To shorten the journey, the guide traveled to the left of the railway line, which was still under construction. The line did not run straight because it had to follow the unpredictable curves of the Vindhia Mountains. The Parsee knew the roads and paths in the district well. He said they would save twenty miles by going straight through the forest.

Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in the peculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swift trotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee; but they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talking little, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As for Passepartout, who was mounted on the beast’s back, and received the direct force of each concussion as he trod along, he was very careful, in accordance with his master’s advice, to keep his tongue from between his teeth, as it would otherwise have been bitten off short. The worthy fellow bounced from the elephant’s neck to his rump, and vaulted like a clown on a spring-board; yet he laughed in the midst of his bouncing, and from time to time took a piece of sugar out of his pocket, and inserted it in Kiouni’s trunk, who received it without in the least slackening his regular trot.

Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty were sunk up to their necks in the unusual howdahs provided for them. The skilled Parsee urged the elephant into a fast trot, which jolted them terribly. But they endured the discomfort with true British composure. They spoke little and could barely catch a glimpse of each other. Passepartout rode on the elephant’s back and felt the full force of every jolt as the animal moved along. Following his master’s advice, he was very careful to keep his tongue away from his teeth. Otherwise, he would have bitten it clean off. The good fellow bounced from the elephant’s neck to its rump and leaped like a clown on a springboard. Yet he laughed as he bounced. From time to time, he took a piece of sugar from his pocket and put it in Kiouni’s trunk. Kiouni accepted the sugar without slowing his steady trot in the slightest.

After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hour for rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at a neighbouring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs round about him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and both descended with a feeling of relief. “Why, he’s made of iron!” exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on Kiouni.

After two hours, the guide stopped the elephant and let him rest for an hour. Kiouni drank from a nearby spring, then began eating the branches and shrubs around him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg minded the delay, and both were relieved to climb down. “Why, he’s made of iron!” exclaimed the general, gazing at Kiouni with admiration.

“Of forged iron,” replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing a hasty breakfast.

“Of forged iron,” Passepartout replied as he began preparing a quick breakfast.

At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soon presented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf-palms succeeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty shrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite. All this portion of Bundelcund, which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by a fanatical population, hardened in the most horrible practices of the Hindoo faith. The English have not been able to secure complete dominion over this territory, which is subjected to the influence of rajahs, whom it is almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible mountain fastnesses. The travellers several times saw bands of ferocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant striding across-country, made angry and threatening motions. The Parsee avoided them as much as possible. Few animals were observed on the route; even the monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces which convulsed Passepartout with laughter.

At noon, the Parsee gave the signal to leave. The country soon became very wild. Groves of date palms and dwarf palms replaced the dense forests. Then came vast, dry plains dotted with sparse shrubs and scattered with great blocks of syenite. Few travelers visit this part of Bundelcund. All of it is inhabited by a fanatical population hardened in the most horrible practices of the Hindoo faith. The English have not been able to gain complete control of the territory. It remains under the influence of rajahs, who are almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible mountain strongholds. Several times, the travelers saw bands of fierce Indians. When they spotted the elephant striding across the countryside, they made angry and threatening gestures. The Parsee avoided them as much as possible. The travelers saw few animals along the way. Even the monkeys hurried out of their path, twisting and making faces that sent Passepartout into fits of laughter.

In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got to Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a present of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these thoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.

Despite his good spirits, one thought troubled the worthy servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he reached Allahabad? Would he take him along? Impossible! The cost of transporting the elephant would be ruinous. Would he sell him or set him free? The admirable animal certainly deserved some consideration. If Mr. Fogg chose to give Kiouni to Passepartout, Passepartout would be very much at a loss. These thoughts continued to worry him for a long time.

The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an equal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.

By eight that evening, they had crossed the main chain of the Vindhias. They stopped again in a ruined bungalow on the northern slope. They had traveled nearly twenty-five miles that day, and the station at Allahabad was still nearly twenty-five miles away.

The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few dry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased at Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave place to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept standing, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree. Nothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, although occasional growls from panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the silence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostile demonstration against the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept heavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout was wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serene mansion in Saville Row.

The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few dry branches, and the warmth was very welcome. The provisions bought at Kholby were enough for supper, and the travelers ate ravenously. Their conversation began with a few disconnected phrases, but soon gave way to loud, steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept standing up, leaning against the trunk of a large tree. Nothing disturbed the sleepers during the night, though occasional panther growls and monkey chatter broke the silence. The more fearsome animals made no cries or hostile gestures toward the people in the bungalow. Sir Francis slept deeply, like an honest soldier overcome by fatigue. Passepartout had uneasy dreams about the previous day’s bouncing ride. As for Mr. Fogg, he slept as peacefully as if he were in his tranquil mansion on Saville Row.

The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reach Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part of the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni, resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the Vindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on the Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoided inhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which lies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river. Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stopped under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread and as succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.

They resumed their journey at six in the morning. The guide hoped to reach Allahabad by evening. If they did, Mr. Fogg would lose only part of the forty-eight hours he had saved since the journey began. Kiouni set off at a rapid pace again and soon descended the lower slopes of the Vindhias. Around noon, they passed the village of Kallenger, on the Cani, a branch of the Ganges. The guide avoided inhabited places. He thought it safer to stay in the open country along the first low-lying parts of the great river’s basin. Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the northeast. They stopped under a clump of banana plants. The fruit was as healthy as bread and as rich as cream, and they ate plenty of it with pleasure.

At two o’clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended several miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had not as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming restless, suddenly stopped.

At two o’clock, the guide entered a thick forest that stretched for several miles. He preferred to travel under the cover of the woods. So far, they had encountered no trouble. Their journey seemed almost complete when the elephant grew restless and suddenly stopped.

It was then four o’clock.

It was four o’clock.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sir Francis, sticking his head out.

“I don’t know, officer,” replied the Parsee, listening attentively to a confused murmur which came through the thick branches.

“I don’t know, officer,” the Parsee replied, listening closely to an indistinct murmur coming through the thick branches.

The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:

The murmur soon grew clearer. It sounded like a distant concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout watched and listened intently. Mr. Fogg waited patiently without a word. The Parsee jumped to the ground, tied the elephant to a tree, and plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:

“A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent their seeing us, if possible.”

“A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must try to keep them from seeing us.”

The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the same time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready to bestride the animal at a moment’s notice, should flight become necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful would pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which they were wholly concealed.

The guide untied the elephant and led him into a thicket, asking the travelers not to move. He was ready to mount the elephant at a moment’s notice if they needed to flee. But he evidently thought the procession of the faithful would pass without noticing them. The thick foliage hid them completely.

The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and now droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals. The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred paces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious ceremony were easily distinguished through the branches. First came the priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace robes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a kind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the tambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with large wheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with each other. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus, stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red, with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tinted with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate and headless giant.

The clashing sounds of voices and instruments drew closer. Now droning songs mingled with the sound of tambourines and cymbals. Soon the front of the procession appeared beneath the trees, a hundred paces away. The strange figures performing the religious ceremony were easy to see through the branches. First came the priests, wearing mitres and long lace robes. Men, women, and children surrounded them, singing a kind of mournful psalm. At regular intervals, tambourines and cymbals interrupted the song. Behind them came a cart with large wheels, whose spokes were shaped like intertwined serpents. Four richly adorned zebus pulled the cart. On it stood a hideous statue with four arms and a dull red body. The statue had hollow eyes, tangled hair, a protruding tongue, and lips stained with betel. It stood upright on the figure of a giant lying face down, with his head cut off.

Sir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, “The goddess Kali; the goddess of love and death.”

Sir Francis recognized the statue and whispered, “The goddess Kali, the goddess of love and death.”

“Of death, perhaps,” muttered back Passepartout, “but of love—that ugly old hag? Never!”

“Perhaps of death,” Passepartout muttered in reply. “But of love? That ugly old hag? Never!”

The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.

The Parsee motioned for silence.

A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round the statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence their blood issued drop by drop—stupid fanatics, who, in the great Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed. This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck, shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and gems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her form.

A group of old fakirs danced wildly around the statue, making a great commotion. They were streaked with ochre and covered in cuts, from which blood dripped. These were stupid fanatics who still throw themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut during great Indian ceremonies. Some Brahmins followed, dressed in all the splendor of Oriental clothing. They led a woman who faltered at every step. She was young and as fair as a European. Her head, neck, shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were weighed down with jewels, bracelets, earrings, and rings. She wore a gold-trimmed tunic under a light muslin robe, which revealed the outline of her figure.

The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and long damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.

The guards who followed the young woman were a striking contrast to her. They carried unsheathed sabers at their waists and long pistols decorated with intricate patterns. They also carried a corpse on a palanquin. It was the body of an old man, richly dressed in the clothing of a rajah. As in life, he wore a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of silk and gold, and a cashmere scarf sewn with diamonds. He also wore the magnificent weapons of a Hindu prince. Next came the musicians, followed by a rear guard of dancing fakirs. Their cries sometimes drowned out the instruments. They brought the procession to a close.

Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning to the guide, said, “A suttee.”

Sir Francis watched the procession sadly. He turned to the guide and said, “A suttee.”

The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.

The Parsee nodded and put his finger to his lips. The procession slowly wound through the trees. Soon the last people in it disappeared deep into the woods. The songs gradually faded. Occasional cries could be heard in the distance, until at last everything was silent again.

Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the procession had disappeared, asked: “What is a suttee?”

Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said. As soon as the procession disappeared, he asked, “What is a suttee?”

“A suttee,” returned the general, “is a human sacrifice, but a voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow at the dawn of day.”

“A suttee is a human sacrifice, but a voluntary one,” replied the general. “The woman you just saw will be burned tomorrow at dawn.”

“Oh, the scoundrels!” cried Passepartout, who could not repress his indignation.

“Oh, the villains!” cried Passepartout, unable to contain his outrage.

“And the corpse?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“And the body?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“Is that of the prince, her husband,” said the guide; “an independent rajah of Bundelcund.”

“That belongs to the prince, her husband,” said the guide. “He was an independent rajah of Bundelcund.”

“Is it possible,” resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the least emotion, “that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?”

“Can these barbaric customs still exist in India?” Phileas Fogg asked, his voice showing no emotion. “And have the English been unable to stop them?”

“These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India,” replied Sir Francis; “but we have no power over these savage territories, and especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage.”

“These sacrifices do not happen in most of India,” replied Sir Francis. “But we have no power over these savage territories, especially here in Bundelcund. The entire district north of the Vindhias is plagued by constant murder and looting.”

“The poor wretch!” exclaimed Passepartout, “to be burned alive!”

“The poor woman!” exclaimed Passepartout. “To be burned alive!”

“Yes,” returned Sir Francis, “burned alive. And, if she were not, you cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty allowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as an unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog. The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures to the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism. Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires the active interference of the Government to prevent it. Several years ago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the governor to be burned along with her husband’s body; but, as you may imagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took refuge with an independent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose.”

“Yes,” replied Sir Francis, “burned alive. And if she were not, you cannot imagine how her relatives would treat her. They would shave her head, give her barely enough rice to eat, and treat her with contempt. She would be seen as unclean and would die in some corner like a mangy dog. The prospect of such a terrible life drives these poor women to sacrifice themselves far more than love or religious fanaticism does. Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is truly voluntary, and the Government must intervene to prevent it. Several years ago, when I was living in Bombay, a young widow asked the governor for permission to be burned with her husband’s body. But, as you can imagine, he refused. The woman left town and took refuge with an independent rajah. There she carried out her plan to sacrifice herself.”

While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times, and now said: “The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn is not a voluntary one.”

While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times. Now he said: “The sacrifice tomorrow at dawn will not be voluntary.”

“How do you know?”

“How do you know?”

“Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund.”

“Everybody knows about this incident in Bundelcund.”

“But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,” observed Sir Francis.

“But the poor creature didn’t seem to be resisting,” Sir Francis said.

“That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and opium.”

“That was because they had drugged her with hemp and opium fumes.”

“But where are they taking her?”

“But where are they taking her?”

“To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night there.”

“To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here. She will spend the night there.”

“And the sacrifice will take place—”

“And the sacrifice will take place...”

“To-morrow, at the first light of dawn.”

“Tomorrow, at first light.”

The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon his neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir Francis Cromarty, said, “Suppose we save this woman.”

The guide led the elephant out of the thicket and climbed onto his neck. Just as he was about to urge Kiouni forward with a special whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him. Turning to Sir Francis Cromarty, he said, “Suppose we save this woman.”

“Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!”

“Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!”

“I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that.”

“I still have twelve hours to spare. I can use them for that.”

“Why, you are a man of heart!”

“Why, you have a kind heart!”

“Sometimes,” replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; “when I have the time.”

“Sometimes,” Phileas Fogg replied quietly, “when I have the time.”