Passepartout Gets More Proof That Fortune Favors the Brave

The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable. Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.

The plan was bold and full of difficulties. It might even have been impossible. Mr. Fogg was risking his life, or at least his freedom, and therefore the success of his journey. But he did not hesitate, and he found an enthusiastic ally in Sir Francis Cromarty.

As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed. His master’s idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.

As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything anyone might suggest. His master’s idea delighted him. He saw a heart and a soul beneath that icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.

There remained the guide: what course would he adopt? Would he not take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was necessary to be assured of his neutrality.

The guide remained a concern. What would he do? Would he side with the Indians? If he would not help, they needed to be sure he would remain neutral.

Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.

Sir Francis asked him the question directly.

“Officers,” replied the guide, “I am a Parsee, and this woman is a Parsee. Command me as you will.”

“Officers,” the guide replied, “I am a Parsee, and this woman is a Parsee. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Excellent!” said Mr. Fogg.

“Excellent!” said Mr. Fogg.

“However,” resumed the guide, “it is certain, not only that we shall risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken.”

“However,” the guide continued, “if we are caught, we will certainly risk not only our lives but also horrible torture.”

“That is foreseen,” replied Mr. Fogg. “I think we must wait till night before acting.”

“That was expected,” replied Mr. Fogg. “I think we must wait until night before acting.”

“I think so,” said the guide.

“I think so,” said the guide.

The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said, was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the rajah’s relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice from which it seemed she could not escape.

The good Indian then told them about the victim. He said she was a famous Parsee beauty and the daughter of a wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English education in Bombay. From her manners and intelligence, one would have taken her for a European. Her name was Aouda. After she was orphaned, she was married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund. Knowing the fate that awaited her, she escaped but was captured again. The rajah’s relatives, who stood to gain from her death, condemned her to the sacrifice. It seemed she could not escape it.

The Parsee’s narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a copse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs distinctly.

The Parsee’s story only strengthened Mr. Fogg and his companions’ resolve to carry out their generous plan. They decided that the guide should steer the elephant toward the pagoda of Pillaji. The guide approached the pagoda as quickly as possible. Half an hour later, they stopped in a small grove about five hundred feet from the pagoda. They were well hidden there, but they could clearly hear the fakirs’ groans and cries.

They then discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human intervention could save her.

They then discussed how to reach the victim. The guide knew the pagoda of Pillaji, where he said the young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter through one of its doors while the entire party of Indians lay in a drunken sleep? Or would it be safer to make a hole in the walls? They could only decide when they reached the pagoda. But one thing was certain: they had to rescue her that night. If they waited until daybreak, when she was led to her funeral pyre, no human intervention could save her.

As soon as night fell, about six o’clock, they decided to make a reconnaissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be possible to slip between them to the temple itself.

As soon as night fell, around six o’clock, they decided to scout the area around the pagoda. The fakirs’ cries were just dying down. The Indians were becoming intoxicated on liquid opium mixed with hemp. It might be possible to slip between them and reach the temple itself.

The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream, whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above the trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.

The Parsee led the others silently through the woods. Ten minutes later, they reached the bank of a small stream. By the light of the resin torches, they saw a funeral pyre. The rajah’s embalmed body lay on top, ready to be burned with his wife. The pagoda stood a hundred steps away, its minarets looming above the trees in the deepening dusk.

“Come!” whispered the guide.

“Come!” whispered the guide.

He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of the wind among the branches.

He slipped through the brush more cautiously than ever, followed by his companions. Only the soft sound of wind in the branches broke the silence.

Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians, motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.

Soon the Parsee stopped at the edge of the glade, which was lit by torches. Groups of Indians lay motionless on the ground, asleep from drinking. It looked like a battlefield covered with the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.

In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed distinctly. Much to the guide’s disappointment, the guards of the rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching within.

In the background, the pagoda of Pillaji stood out clearly among the trees. To the guide’s great disappointment, the rajah’s guards were watching at the doors. Lit by torches, they marched back and forth with drawn swords. The priests were probably keeping watch inside too.

The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered colloquy.

The Parsee was now convinced that they could not force their way into the temple. He went no farther and led his companions back. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that they could do nothing in that direction. They stopped and spoke in whispers.

“It is only eight now,” said the brigadier, “and these guards may also go to sleep.”

“It’s only eight now,” said the brigadier, “and these guards may also go to sleep.”

“It is not impossible,” returned the Parsee.

“It’s not impossible,” replied the Parsee.

They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.

They lay down at the base of a tree and waited.

The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of the pagoda.

The time seemed to drag. From time to time, the guide left them to look out from the edge of the woods. But the guards kept watch by torchlight, and a dim light shone through the windows of the pagoda.

They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards, and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the priests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as were the soldiers at the door.

They waited until midnight, but nothing changed among the guards. It became clear that they could not count on the guards falling asleep. They had to carry out the other plan and make an opening in the pagoda walls. They still needed to find out whether the priests were watching over their victim as closely as the soldiers were guarding the door.

After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.

After one last discussion, the guide said he was ready to try and moved forward, followed by the others. They took a roundabout route to reach the back of the pagoda. They reached its walls at about half past twelve without meeting anyone. There was no guard there, and no windows or doors.

The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon, and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the darkness.

The night was dark. The waning moon barely rose above the horizon and was hidden by thick clouds. The tall trees made the darkness deeper.

It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood, which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had been taken out, the rest would yield easily.

Reaching the walls was not enough. The party also had to make an opening, and they had only their pocketknives. Fortunately, the temple walls were built of brick and wood, which were not difficult to penetrate. Once they removed one brick, the rest would come out easily.

They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.

They began working silently. The Parsee worked on one side and Passepartout on the other, loosening bricks to make an opening two feet wide. They were making rapid progress when a cry suddenly came from inside the temple. Almost at once, other cries answered from outside. Passepartout and the guide stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being raised? Prudence told them to retreat, so they did, followed by Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They hid in the woods again and waited for the disturbance, whatever it was, to end. They were ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, unfortunately, the guards now appeared at the back of the temple and stationed themselves there to prevent a surprise attack.

It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how, then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.

It would be hard to describe how disappointed the group was when their work was interrupted. They could no longer reach the victim, so how could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout was frantic, and the guide ground his teeth in anger. Fogg waited calmly, showing no emotion.

“We have nothing to do but to go away,” whispered Sir Francis.

“We have no choice but to leave,” whispered Sir Francis.

“Nothing but to go away,” echoed the guide.

“Nothing but to leave,” the guide repeated.

“Stop,” said Fogg. “I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon.”

“Stop,” said Fogg. “I don't have to be in Allahabad until tomorrow before noon.”

“But what can you hope to do?” asked Sir Francis. “In a few hours it will be daylight, and—”

“But what can you hope to do?” asked Sir Francis. “In a few hours it will be daylight, and...”

“The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment.”

“The chance that now seems lost may come again at the last moment.”

Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg’s eyes. What was this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch her from her executioners?

Sir Francis wished he could read Phileas Fogg’s thoughts from his eyes. What was this calm Englishman thinking? Was he planning to rush in at the moment of the sacrifice and boldly snatch the young woman from her executioners?

This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where they were able to observe the sleeping groups.

This would be utter foolishness, and it was hard to believe Fogg was such a fool. Nevertheless, Sir Francis agreed to stay until the end of this terrible drama. The guide led them to the back of the clearing, where they could watch the sleeping groups.

Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches of a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.

Meanwhile, Passepartout sat on a lower branch of a tree, working out an idea. It had struck him in a flash and was now firmly fixed in his mind.

He had commenced by saying to himself, “What folly!” and then he repeated, “Why not, after all? It’s a chance,—perhaps the only one; and with such sots!” Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the ground.

At first, he said to himself, “What a foolish idea!” Then he thought, “Why not, after all? It’s a chance, perhaps the only one, and with such drunks!” As he thought this, he slipped like a snake to the lowest branches. Their tips bent almost to the ground.

The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed, having shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape from her executioner. Sir Francis’s heart throbbed; and, convulsively seizing Mr. Fogg’s hand, found in it an open knife. Just at this moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again fallen into a stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who escorted her with their wild, religious cries.

The hours passed, and the sky grew paler as dawn approached, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The sleeping crowd stirred. Tambourines sounded, and songs and cries rose up. The hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda swung open, and bright light poured out. In the light, Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis saw the victim. She seemed to have shaken off her drugged stupor and was trying to escape from her executioner. Sir Francis's heart pounded. He suddenly seized Mr. Fogg's hand and found an open knife in it. Just then, the crowd began to move. The young woman had fallen back into a stupor from the fumes of hemp. She passed among the fakirs, who escorted her with wild religious cries.

Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the rajah’s corpse. In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite senseless, stretched out beside her husband’s body. Then a torch was brought, and the wood, heavily soaked with oil, instantly took fire.

Phileas Fogg and his companions followed, joining the crowd at the rear. Two minutes later, they reached the bank of the stream and stopped fifty paces from the pyre. The rajah’s body still lay on it. In the dim light, they saw the victim lying unconscious beside her husband’s body. Then someone brought a torch, and the wood, soaked in oil, caught fire at once.

At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed. A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves, terror-stricken, on the ground.

At that moment, Sir Francis and the guide grabbed Phileas Fogg. In a moment of reckless generosity, he was about to rush onto the pyre. But he quickly pushed them aside, and then the whole scene suddenly changed. A cry of terror went up. The entire crowd fell to the ground, terrified.

The old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in the midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly appearance.

The old rajah was not dead after all. He suddenly rose like a ghost, lifted his wife in his arms, and stepped down from the funeral pyre. Clouds of smoke surrounded him, making him look even more ghostly.

Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there, with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and behold such a prodigy.

The fakirs, soldiers, and priests were suddenly terrified. They lay there with their faces to the ground, too afraid to look up at such a wonder.

The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.

Strong arms carried the lifeless victim, who seemed to be no burden at all. Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis stood upright. The Parsee bowed his head, and Passepartout was no doubt nearly as stunned.

The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in an abrupt tone, said, “Let us be off!”

The revived rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg and said abruptly, “Let’s go!”

It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the general terror.

It was Passepartout himself! He had slipped onto the pyre through the smoke and used the lingering darkness to save the young woman from death. Playing his part with daring confidence, Passepartout had passed through the terrified crowd.

A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg’s hat, apprised them that the trick had been discovered.

A moment later, all four members of the party had disappeared into the woods. The elephant was carrying them away quickly. But cries and noise, along with a bullet that whizzed through Phileas Fogg’s hat, told them the trick had been discovered.

The old rajah’s body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.

The old rajah’s body now appeared on the burning pyre. The priests recovered from their fright and realized that someone had been abducted. They rushed into the forest, followed by the soldiers, who fired a volley at the fugitives. But the fugitives quickly pulled farther ahead and soon were out of reach of the bullets and arrows.