Phileas Fogg Crosses the Beautiful Ganges Valley Without Looking at It

The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow’s hand, and his master said, “Well done!” which, from him, was high commendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with a “queer” idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he, Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing, and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the howdahs.

The daring plan had succeeded, and Passepartout laughed happily over his success for an hour. Sir Francis shook the good fellow’s hand, and his master said, “Well done!” Coming from him, that was high praise. Passepartout replied that Mr. Fogg deserved all the credit. He himself had simply been struck by a “strange” idea. He laughed at the thought that, for a few moments, he, Passepartout, a former gymnast and fire brigade sergeant, had been a charming woman’s husband, a venerable, embalmed rajah! The young Indian woman had been unconscious throughout the whole affair. Now she was resting in one of the howdahs, wrapped in a travel blanket.

The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at seven o’clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. Sir Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But he was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas Fogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were scattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police, recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only be safe by quitting India for ever.

Thanks to the Parsee’s skillful guidance, the elephant moved quickly through the still dark forest. An hour after leaving the pagoda, they had crossed a vast plain. They stopped at seven o’clock, and the young woman was still completely exhausted. The guide gave her a little brandy and water to drink, but she could not yet shake off her drugged drowsiness. Sir Francis knew the effects of breathing hemp fumes and reassured his companions about her condition. But he was more worried about what would become of her. He told Phileas Fogg that if Aouda stayed in India, she would inevitably fall into her executioners’ hands again. These fanatics were scattered throughout the country. Despite the English police, they would recapture their victim in Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would be safe only if she left India forever.

Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.

Phileas Fogg replied that he would think about the matter.

The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o’clock, and, the interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next day, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.

They reached Allahabad station at about ten o’clock. The railway resumed there, so they could reach Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would therefore arrive in time to take the steamer to Hong Kong. It left Calcutta at noon the next day, October 25th.

The young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station, whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, and found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the City of God, one of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the two sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according to the legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma’s agency, it descends to the earth.

The young woman was settled in one of the station’s waiting rooms. Passepartout was sent to buy her toiletries, a dress, a shawl, and some furs. His master gave him unlimited credit for these purchases. Passepartout set off at once and found himself in the streets of Allahabad, the City of God. Allahabad is one of the most revered cities in India because it stands where two sacred rivers meet, the Ganges and the Jumna. Their waters attract pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. According to the legends of the Ramayana, the Ganges rises in heaven and descends to earth through Brahma’s agency.

Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a good look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty Jew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dress of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returned triumphantly to the station.

As he made his purchases, Passepartout made sure to take a good look at the city. It had once been defended by a splendid fort, which had since become a state prison. The city’s trade had declined, and Passepartout searched in vain for a bazaar like those he used to visit in Regent Street. At last, he found a grumpy elderly Jewish man who sold secondhand goods. From him, Passepartout bought a dress made of Scottish fabric, a large cloak, and a fine otter-skin coat. He did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds for them. He then returned triumphantly to the station.

The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes resumed all their soft Indian expression.

The influence the priests of Pillaji had over Aouda gradually began to fade, and she became more herself. Her beautiful eyes regained all their gentle Indian expression.

When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen of Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:

When the poet-king Ucaf Uddaul praises the charms of the queen of Ahmehnagara, he says:

“Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion-flower’s half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor.”

“Her shining hair is parted in two and frames the graceful contours of her pale, delicate cheeks, glowing with freshness. Her ebony eyebrows have the shape and beauty of the bow of Kama, the god of love. Beneath her long, silky lashes, pure reflections and a heavenly light shimmer in her dark pupils. They shimmer like light in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, within her large, clear eyes. Her fine, even, white teeth sparkle between her smiling lips like dewdrops inside a half-closed passion flower. Her delicate ears, red hands, and small feet shine with the loveliest pearls of Ceylon and the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her feet are curved and delicate as lotus buds. Her slender, supple waist can be encircled by one hand. It sets off her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, displaying all the richness of youth in bloom. Beneath the silky folds of her tunic, she seems to have been shaped from pure silver by Vicvarcarma. He is the immortal sculptor with a godlike hand.”

It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda, that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of the phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her bringing up.

Without applying this poetic rhapsody to Aouda, it is enough to say that she was charming in every European sense of the word. She spoke English flawlessly, and the guide had not exaggerated when he said that her upbringing had transformed the young Parsee woman.

The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded to pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master owed to the guide’s devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in the adventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by the Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni, also, must be disposed of. What should be done with the elephant, which had been so dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg had already determined this question.

The train was about to leave Allahabad. Mr. Fogg paid the guide the agreed price for his service, and not a penny more. This astonished Passepartout, who remembered how much his master owed the guide for his devotion. The guide had risked his life in the adventure at Pillaji. If the Indians caught him afterward, he would have difficulty escaping their vengeance. Kiouni, too, had to be dealt with. What should be done with the elephant, which had cost so much? Phileas Fogg had already decided.

“Parsee,” said he to the guide, “you have been serviceable and devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you like to have this elephant? He is yours.”

“Parsee,” he said to the guide, “you have been helpful and devoted. I have paid you for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you like this elephant? He is yours.”

The guide’s eyes glistened.

The guide’s eyes shone.

“Your honour is giving me a fortune!” cried he.

“You’re giving me a fortune!” he cried.

“Take him, guide,” returned Mr. Fogg, “and I shall still be your debtor.”

“Take him, guide,” replied Mr. Fogg, “and I will still owe you.”

“Good!” exclaimed Passepartout. “Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave and faithful beast.” And, going up to the elephant, he gave him several lumps of sugar, saying, “Here, Kiouni, here, here.”

“Good!” exclaimed Passepartout. “Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave and loyal animal.” He went up to the elephant and gave him several lumps of sugar. “Here, Kiouni, here, here,” he said.

The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head. Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which replaced him gently on the ground.

The elephant grunted with satisfaction and wrapped his trunk around Passepartout’s waist. He lifted him as high as his head. Passepartout was not at all afraid and stroked the elephant, who gently set him back on the ground.

Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout, installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles, and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and with travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions first set about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis narrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and recounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of Passepartout’s rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout, abashed, kept repeating that “it wasn’t worth telling.”

Soon afterward, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout were speeding toward Benares in a railway carriage with Aouda. She had the best seat. The eighty-mile journey took two hours. During the trip, the young woman fully regained her senses. She was astonished to find herself in a railway carriage, dressed in European clothes and surrounded by complete strangers. Her companions first gave her a little liquor to revive her fully. Then Sir Francis told her what had happened. He spoke at length about Phileas Fogg’s courage in risking his life without hesitation to save her. He also described how the rescue had succeeded thanks to Passepartout’s rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing, while Passepartout, embarrassed, kept repeating that “it wasn’t worth telling.”

Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips. Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.

Aouda thanked her rescuers, more with tears than words. Her beautiful eyes showed her gratitude better than her lips could. Then her thoughts returned to the scene of the sacrifice and the dangers that still threatened her. She shuddered with terror.

Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda’s mind, and offered, in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might remain safely until the affair was hushed up—an offer which she eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation, who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.

Phileas Fogg understood what Aouda was thinking. To reassure her, he offered to escort her to Hong Kong. She could stay there safely until the affair was forgotten. She eagerly and gratefully accepted. It seemed she had a Parsee relative who was one of Hong Kong’s leading merchants. Hong Kong is entirely an English city, though it is on an island off the Chinese coast.

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends assert that this city is built on the site of the ancient Casi, which, like Mahomet’s tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth; though the Benares of to-day, which the Orientalists call the Athens of India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartout caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of desolation to the place, as the train entered it.

At half past twelve, the train stopped at Benares. Brahmin legends say the city is built on the site of ancient Casi. Like Mahomet’s tomb, Casi was once suspended between heaven and earth, according to the legends. Orientalists call present-day Benares the Athens of India, though it stands quite unpoetically on solid ground. As the train entered the city, Passepartout caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, which gave it a desolate appearance.

Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty’s destination, the troops he was rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade adieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hope that he would come that way again in a less original but more profitable fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The parting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis, betrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty shake of the hand from the gallant general.

Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty’s destination. The troops he was rejoining were camped a few miles north of the city. He said goodbye to Phileas Fogg and wished him every success. He hoped Fogg would come that way again in a less unusual but more profitable manner. Mr. Fogg gave his hand a light squeeze. Aouda said goodbye more warmly, for she had not forgotten what she owed Sir Francis. Passepartout, for his part, received a hearty handshake from the brave general.

The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still thickly-leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the sacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and chilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being Vishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. What would these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, with steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls which float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and the faithful dwelling upon its borders?

After leaving Benares, the railway followed the Ganges valley for a while. Through the carriage windows, the travellers glimpsed the varied landscape of Behar. They saw green mountains, fields of barley, wheat, and corn, and jungles inhabited by green alligators. They also saw neat villages and forests still thick with leaves. Elephants were bathing in the sacred river. Despite the late season and chilly air, groups of Indians were solemnly performing their religious washes. These were devout Brahmins, the bitterest enemies of Buddhism. Their gods were Vishnu, the sun god, Shiva, the divine embodiment of natural forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and lawmakers. What would these gods think of India today, so influenced by England? Steamers whistle and speed along the Ganges, frightening the gulls floating on its surface, the turtles crowding its banks, and the faithful living along its shores.

The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares, the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its famous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a large manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principal opium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries, edgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke heavenward.

The scenery flashed past, except when bursts of steam hid it from view. The travelers could barely make out the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles southwest of Benares. It was the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar. They could scarcely see Ghazipur and its famous rose-water factories, or Lord Cornwallis’s tomb on the left bank of the Ganges. They could barely discern the fortified town of Buxar or Patna, a major manufacturing and trading center. Patna was home to India’s principal opium market. Nor could they see much of Monghir, a town that was more than European. It was as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with iron foundries, cutting tool factories, and tall chimneys puffing black smoke skyward.

Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before the locomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour, Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town of Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his country’s flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.

Night fell, and the train raced on at full speed. Tigers, bears, and wolves roared as they fled from the locomotive. The darkness hid the wonders of Bengal from view: Golconda, ruined Gour, Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town of Chandernagor. Passepartout would have been proud to see his country’s flag flying in Chandernagor.

Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.

They reached Calcutta at seven in the morning, and the ship for Hong Kong left at noon. So Phileas Fogg had five hours to spare.

According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was therefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time. The two days gained between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg regretted them.

According to his journal, he was due to arrive in Calcutta on October 25. He arrived on exactly that date, so he was neither late nor ahead of schedule. As we have seen, the two days he had gained between London and Bombay were lost during the journey across India. But there is no reason to suppose that Phileas Fogg regretted losing those two days.