Around the World In Eighty Days

Chapter XXXIV (In which Phileas Fogg at last reaches London)

           Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House, and he was to be transferred (taken away) to London the next day.

        Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon (attack) Fix, had he not been held back (caught) by some policemen. Aouda (औडा) was thunderstruck (astonished / हक्का-बक्का हुआ) at the suddenness  of  an  event  which she  could  not  understand.  Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honest and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber.  The young woman’s heart revolted (disgusted) against so heinous (evil/ bad) a charge, and when she saw that she could attempt to do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly(extremely/फूट फूट कर).

          As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whether Mr. Fogg was guilty or not. 

          The thought then struck (felt) Passepartout, that   he   was   the cause of this new misfortune (calamity)! Had he not concealed (kept secret) Fix’s errand (intention) from his master? When Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr. Fogg? If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix proof of his  innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of his master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains out.

          Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious (eager) to see Mr. Fogg again.

        That  gentleman  was  really  ruined, and  that  at  the  moment  when  he  was about  to  attain (achieve)  his  end.  This arrest was fatal.  Having  arrived  at  Liverpool  at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he had till a quarter before nine  that  evening  to  reach  the  Reform Club,  that  is,  nine  hours  and  a  quarter; the  journey  from  Liverpool  to  London was six hours.

         If   anyone,   at   this   moment,   had entered   the   Custom   House,   he   would have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger, upon a wooden bench.  He  was  not,  it  is  true, resigned; but this last blow failed to force him  into  an  outward (express) betrayal  of  any emotion. Was he being devoured by one of those secret rages (violent anger), all the more terrible because contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting—for what?  Did he still cherish (kept)  hope?  Did  he  still  believe,  now that  the  door  of  this  prison  was  closed upon him, that he would succeed?

       However  that  may  have  been,  Mr. Fogg  carefully  put  his  watch  upon  the table, and observed its advancing hands (of the watch). Not  a  word  escaped  his  lips,  but  his look  was  singularly  set  and  stern.  The situation, in any event, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg was honest  he  was  ruined;  if  he  was  a knave (rascal), he was caught.

        Did escape occur to  him?  Did he examine to see if there was any practicable outlet from his prison?  Did he think of escaping from  it?  Possibly; for once  he walked slowly around the room. But the door was locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again, and drew his journal (diary) from his pocket. On the line where these words were written, “21st December, Saturday, Liverpool,” he  added,  “80th  day,  11.40  a.m.,”  and waited. 

         The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg observed that his watch  was two hours too fast (ahead).

          Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment taking an  express  train,  he could reach London and the Reform Club by (8.45) a quarter before nine p.m. his forehead slightly wrinkled (folds).

         At  thirty-three  minutes  past  two (2.33)  he heard  a  singular (strange) noise  outside,  then  a hasty  opening  of  doors.  Passepartout’s voice was audible, and immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg’s eyes brightened for an instant.

        The door swung  open,  and  he  saw Passepartout,   Aouda,    and  Fix,  who hurried towards him.

         Fix was out  of  breath,  and  his  hair was in disorder. He could not speak. “Sir,” he   stammered,   “Sir-forgive   me-most- unfortunate resemblance-robber arrested three days ago-you are free!”       

     Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked him steadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision of a machine, knocked Fix down.

“Well hit!” cried Passepartout, “Parbleu! (French expression, great) that’s  what  you  might  call  a good application (use) of English fists!”(मुट्ठी)

          Fix,   who   found   himself   on   the floor, did not utter a word. He had only received his desserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout left the Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments descended at the station.

          Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for London. It was forty minutes past two. (2.40) The express train had left thirty-five minutes before. Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.

          There were several rapid locomotives (rail engine) on hand; but  the  railway  arrangements (officers) did not permit the  special  train  to  leave until three o’clock.

         At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated (motivate) the engineer by the offer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London   with   Aouda   and   his   faithful servant.

        It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; (5 and 30) and this would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were forced delays and when Mr.  Fogg  stepped  from  the  train  at  the terminus (station), all  the  clocks  in  London  were striking ten minutes before nine.(8.50)

      Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-hand (late by) five minutes. He had lost the wager!

Chapter XXXV   [In which Phileas Fogg does not have to repeat his orders to  Passepartout twice]

THE dwellers (people who live) 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 (home).

          He   bore (accepted)   his   misfortune (bad luck)   with   his habitual tranquility (calmness). Ruined! And by the blundering (mistake) of the detective! After having steadily   traversed (travel across)   that   long   journey, overcome  a  hundred  obstacles (difficulties),  braved (bravely faced) 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 (aware of future) , and against which he was unarmed (unable to do); 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 (make rich) 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 (way), however, was fully decided upon; he knew what remained for him to do.

      A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart (left/give)   for Aouda, who was overwhelmed (disturb) with grief (sorrow) at her protector’s misfortune.  From the words which Mr. Fogg   dropped, (expressed/said)   she   saw   that   he   was meditating (thinking) some serious project.

      Knowing that Englishmen governed (run) by a fixed idea   sometimes   resort (make use of/ सहारा लेना) to the    desperate (bad/hopeless)    expedient (thing)    of    suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watch upon his master, though he carefully concealed (secretly) the appearance (showing) of so doing.

    He had found a bill from the gas company.

     First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and had extinguished (put out) 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 (unable to) 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 (busy) all day in putting (completing) his affairs to  rights.  In the evening he would ask permission to have a few moment’s conversation with the young lady.

         Passepartout, having   received   his orders, had nothing to do but obey them. He looked at his imperturbable (relax/cool) master, and could scarcely (not ready) bring his mind to leave him.  His  heart  was  full,  and  his conscience  tortured  by  remorse (repentance/पश्चाताप);  for  he accused (blamed)  himself  more  bitterly  than  ever of  being  the  cause  of  the  irretrievable (that cannot be put right) disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg, and  had  betrayed (opened)  Fix’s  projects (purpose)  to  him, his master would certainly not have given the  detective  passage (chance) to  Liverpool, and then— Passepartout could hold (stop long time) in no longer.

     “Why do you not curse (blame) me?  It was my fault that—”

      “I blame no one,” returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness. “Go!”

      Passepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom he delivered his master’s message.

     “Madam,” he added, “I can do nothing myself—nothing!   I   have no influence (impact) over my master; but you, perhaps—”

      “What influence could I have?” replied Aouda. “Mr. Fogg is influenced by no one.  Has he ever understood that my gratitude (thanks) to him is overflowing (more)? Has he ever read my heart? My friend, he must not be left alone an instant! You say he is going to speak with me this evening?”

     “Yes, madam probably to arrange for your protection and comfort (relief) in England.”

      “We shall see,” replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.

(Thoughtful) Throughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville   Row was as if uninhabited (no people living there),   and   Phileas   Fogg, for the  first  time  since  he  had  lived  in  that house, did not set out for his club when Westminster clock struck half-past eleven.

Why should he present himself at the Reform (go there)?  His friends no longer expected him there. As Phileas Fogg had not appeared in the  saloon (hall of the club)  on  the  evening before  (Saturday,  the  21st  of  December, at a quarter before nine), he had lost his wager. It was not even necessary that he should go to  his  bankers  for  the  twenty thousand   pounds;   for   his   antagonists already had his cheque in their hands, and they had only to fill it out and send it to the Barings (bank) to have the amount transferred to their credit (account).

        Mr. Fogg,  therefore,  had  no  reason for  going  out,  and  so  he  remained  at home. He shut himself up in his room, and busied himself putting his affairs in order. Passepartout continually ascended and descended (up and down) the stairs. The hours were long for him. He listened at his master’s door, and looked through the keyhole, as if he had a perfect right so to do, and as if he feared that something terrible might happen at any moment. Sometimes he thought of Fix, but no longer in anger. Fix, like all the world, had been mistaken in Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty in tracking and arresting him; while he, Passepartout. . . . . .  This thought haunted him, and  he  never  ceased  cursing  his miserable folly (foolishness).

        Finding   himself   too   wretched (sad/miserable) to remain  alone,  he  knocked  at  Aouda’s door, went into her room, seated himself, without speaking, in a corner, and looked ruefully (अफसोस के साथ) at the young woman. Aouda was still pensive (thinking) .

            About half-past seven in the evening Mr. Fogg sent (a message) to know if Aouda would receive (meet) him,  and  in  a  few  moments he found himself alone with her.

          Phileas Fogg took a chair, and  sat down near the fireplace, opposite Aouda. No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg returned was exactly  the  Fogg  who  had gone away; there was the same calm, the same impassibility(without movement).

         He sat several minutes without speaking;   then,   bending   his   eyes   on Aouda, “Madam,” said he,  “will  you pardon (forgive) me for bringing you to England?”

         “I, Mr. Fogg!” replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart.

      “Please let me finish,” returned  Mr. Fogg. “When I decided to bring you far away  from  the  country  which  was  so unsafe  for  you,  I  was  rich,  and  counted (thought) on  putting (giving)  a  portion  of  my fortune  at your disposal(handover) ; then your existence would have been free and happy. But now I am ruined.”

           “I know it, Mr. Fogg,” replied Aouda; “and I ask you in my turn, will you forgive me  for  having  followed  you,  and—who knows?—for  having,  perhaps,  delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?”

            “Madam, you  could  not  remain  in India,  and  your  safety  could  only  be assured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors (a person who harasses/ अत्याचारी) could not take you.”

        “So, Mr. Fogg,” resumed (restart) Aouda, “not content (satisfied) with rescuing me from a terrible death, you thought  yourself  bound (responsible)  to secure my comfort in a foreign land?”

        “Yes, madam; but circumstances have been against me. Still, I beg to place (give) the little I have left at your service.”

    “But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?”

      “As   for   me,   madam,”   replied   the gentleman,   coldly,   “I   have   need   of nothing.”

      “But how do you look upon the fate, sir, which awaits you?”

      “As I am in the habit of doing.”

     “At least,” said Aouda, “want (need/ bad condition)  should not overtake a man   like  you. Your friends—”

    “I have no friends, madam.” “Your relatives—”

     “I have no longer any relatives.”

      “I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude (loneliness) is a sad thing, with no heart to which to confide (share) your griefs (pain/sorrow). They say, though, that misery itself, shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne (bear) with patience.”

      “They say so, madam.”

       “Mr. Fogg,” said Aouda, rising and seizing (holding) his hand, “do you wish at once a kinswoman (relative/wife) and friend? Will you have (accept) me for your wife?”

      Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in  his  turn. There  was  an  unwonted (Unusual/strange)  light  in  his eyes,  and  a slight  trembling (shaking) of  his lips. Aouda looked into his face. The sincerity (honesty/सच्चाई), rectitude (goodness), firmness (courage), and sweetness of this soft glance (look) of a noble woman, who could dare all to save him to whom she owed all,  at  first  astonished,  then  penetrated (touched to the heart) him. He shut his eyes for an instant, as if to avoid her look. When he opened them again, “I love you!” he said, simply. “Yes, by all that is holiest (पवित्रतम/ by heart), I love you, and I am entirely yours!”

      “Ah!” cried Aouda, pressing his hand to her heart.

   Passepartout was summoned (call for) and appeared immediately. Mr. Fogg still held Aouda’s hand in  his own;  Passepartout understood,  and   his   big,   round   face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith (top).

     Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone parish (church/area), that evening.

      Passepartout smiled his most genial (happy) smile, and said, “Never too late.”

  It was five minutes past eight. (8.05)

“Will it be for to-morrow, Monday?”

 “For to-morrow, Monday,” said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.

“Yes; for to-morrow, Monday,” she replied.

Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Chapter XXXVI (In which Phileas Fogg’s name is once more at a premium on ‘change’. /receive a value)

     It is time to relate (tell) what a change took place in English public opinion when it transpired (come to know) that the real  bank robber, a certain James Strand, had been arrested, on the 17th day of December, at Edinburgh. Three days before, Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being desperately followed up by the police; now he was an honourable gentleman,   mathematically pursuing his eccentric (uncommon) journey round the world.

       The  papers  resumed (started)  their  discussion about the wager; all those who had laid bets,  for  or  against  him,  revived  their interest,  as  if  by  magic;  the  “Phileas Fogg  bonds”  again  became  negotiable (debatable), and   many   new   wagers   were   made. Phileas Fogg’s name was once more at a premium on ‘Change. (Receive a value/importance)

         His five friends  of  the  Reform  Club passed  these  three  days in a state of feverish suspense (nervousness / बेचैनी). Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten, reappear before their  eyes!  Where was he at this moment? The 17th of December, the day of James Strand’s arrest, was the seventy- sixth since Phileas Fogg’s departure, and no news of him had been received. Was he dead? Had he abandoned (left) the effort, or was he continuing his journey along the route agreed upon? And would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine in the evening, on the threshold of the Reform Club saloon?

The anxiety (worry) , in which, for three days, London society existed (found/appear) cannot be described. Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Phileas Fogg. Messengers were dispatched (sent) to the house in Saville Row morning and evening. No news. The police were ignorant what had become of the detective, Fix, who had so unfortunately followed up a false scent. Bets increased, nevertheless, in number and value. Phileas Fogg, like a racehorse, was drawing near his last turning-point. The  bonds  were  quoted (repeated),  no  longer  at a  hundred  below  par,  but  at  twenty, at ten,  and at five; and paralytic old Lord Albemarle bet even in his favour.

  A great crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighbouring streets on  Saturday evening;   it   seemed   like a   multitude (crowd) of brokers permanently established around the Reform Club. Circulation (work) was impeded (delay), and everywhere disputes, discussions, and financial transactions were going  on.  The police had great difficulty in  keeping  back  the crowd, and as the hour when Phileas Fogg was due approached, the excitement rose to its highest pitch.

           The five antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon of the club. John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers,  Andrew   Stuart,   the   engineer, Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of  England,  and  Thomas  Flanagan,  the brewer (a person or company that manufactures beer.), one and all waited anxiously.

           When   the   clock   indicated   twenty minutes past eight (8.20), Andrew Stuart got up, saying, “Gentlemen,  in  twenty  minutes the time agreed upon between Mr. Fogg and ourselves will have expired (finished).”

        “What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?”      asked Thomas Flanagan.

         “At twenty-three minutes past seven (7.23),”replied Gauthier Ralph; “and the next does not arrive till ten minutes after twelve.(12.10)”

       “Well, gentlemen,” resumed Andrew Stuart, “if Phileas Fogg had come in the 7:23 train, he would have got here by this time. We can, therefore, regard (consider) the bet as won.”

        “Wait; don’t let us be too hasty (hurry),” replied Samuel Fallentin. “You know that Mr. Fogg is very eccentric. His punctuality is well known; he never arrives too soon, or too late; and I should not be surprised if he appeared before us at the last minute.”

      “Why,” said Andrew Stuart nervously, “if I should see him, I should not believe it was he.”

       “The fact is,” resumed Thomas Flanagan, “Mr. Fogg’s    project was absurdly foolish.  Whatever his punctuality, he   could   not   prevent   the delays which were certain to occur; and a delay of only two or three days would be fatal to his tour.”

       “Observe, too,” added John Sullivan, “that  we  have  received no intelligence (information) from  him,  though  there  are  telegraphic lines all along is route (way).”

       “He has lost, gentleman,” said Andrew Stuart, “he has a hundred times lost!  You  know,  besides,  that  the  China the  only  steamer (boat/ship)  he  could  have  taken from   New   York   to   get   here   in   time arrived yesterday. I have seen a list of the passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg is not among them. Even if we admit that fortune has favoured him, he can scarcely have reached America. I think he will be at least twenty  days  behind-hand,  and that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool five thousand.”

     “It is clear,” replied Gauthier Ralph; “and we have nothing to do but to present Mr. Fogg’s cheque at Barings to-morrow.”

        At this moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty minutes to nine.

        “Five minutes more,” said Andrew Stuart.

The five gentlemen looked at each other. Their    anxiety    was becoming intense; but, not wishing to betray (open)  it, they  readily assented (agreed)to  Mr.  Fallentin’s proposal of a rubber.

     “I wouldn’t give up my four thousand of the bet,” said Andrew Stuart, as he took his seat, “for three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.”

The clock indicated eighteen minutes to nine.(18 min. remain )

      The  players  took  up  their  cards,  but could  not  keep  their  eyes  off  the  clock. Certainly, however secure they felt, minutes had  never  seemed  so  long  to them!

“Seventeen   minutes   to   nine,” said Thomas  Flanagan,  as  he  cut  the  cards which Ralph handed to him.

      Then there was a moment of silence. The great saloon was perfectly quiet; but the murmurs (noise) of the crowd  outside  were heard, with now and then a shrill (high) cry. The pendulum  beat  the  seconds,  which  each player  eagerly  counted,  as  he  listened, with mathematical regularity.

     “Sixteen minutes to nine!” said John Sullivan, in a voice  which  betrayed (show) his emotion.

    One   minute   more,   and   the   wager would be won.  Andrew Stuart and  his partners suspended (stop) their game. They left their cards, and counted the seconds.

    At the fortieth second, nothing. At the fiftieth, still nothing.

     At the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed by applause (clapping), hurrahs, and some fierce (high) growls.(sound)

    The players rose from their seats. “Here I am, gentlemen!”

     At  the  fifty-seventh second  the  door of the saloon opened; and the pendulum had  not  beat  the  sixtieth  second  when Phileas  Fogg  appeared, followed  by  an excited crowd who had forced their way through  the  club doors,  and  in  his  calm voice, said, “Here I am, gentlemen!”

Chapter XXXVII [In which it is shown that  Phileas Fogg gained nothing by his tour around the world, unless it were happiness Yes; Phileas Fogg in person.]

       The reader will remember that at five minutes past eight (8.05) in the evening—about five and twenty hours (25) after the arrival of the  travellers  in  London—Passepartout had been sent by his master to engage the services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in  a  certain  marriage  ceremony,  which was to take place the next day.

With his hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran…

Passepartout went on his errand (task) enchanted (charmed).     He soon reached the clergyman’s house, but found him not at home. Passepartout waited a good twenty minutes, and when  he  left  the reverend gentleman, it was thirty-five minutes past eight. (8.35)

          But in what a state he was! With his hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never man was seen to  run  before,  overturning  passers- by,   rushing   over   the   sidewalk   like   a waterspout. In  three  minutes  he  was  in  Saville Row again, and staggered back into Mr. Fogg’s room.

He could not speak.

“What is the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“My master!” gasped Passepartout—

“marriage—impossible—” “Impossible?” “Impossible—for

to-morrow.” “Why so?”

“Because to-morrow—is Sunday!”

“Monday,” replied Mr. Fogg.

“No—to-day is Saturday.”

“Saturday? Impossible!”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” cried Passepartout. “You have made a mistake of one day! We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time;  but  there  are  only  ten minutes left!”

       Passepartout had seized (caught) his master by the collar,  and  was  dragging  him  along with irresistible force. (Uncontrollable)

      Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without  having  time  to  think,  left  his house,  jumped  into  a  cab,  promised  a hundred   pounds to the cabman, and, having run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached the Reform Club.

   The clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the great saloon. Phileas Fogg had accomplished  the journey round the world in eighty days!

Phileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!

How was it that a man so exact and fastidious (very concerned/ careful) could have made this  error of a day? How came he to think that he had  arrived  in  London  on  Saturday,  the twenty-first day of December, when it was really Friday, the twentieth (20 De.) , the seventy- ninth (79) day only from his departure?

The cause of the error (mistake) is very simple.

Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting (doubt)it,  gained  one  day  on  his  journey,  and this   merely   because   he   had   travelled constantly  eastward;  he  would,  on  the contrary, have lost a day had he gone in the opposite direction, that is, westward.

In  journeying  eastward  he  had  gone towards  the  sun,  and  the  days  therefore diminished  for  him  as  many  times  four minutes  as  he  crossed  degrees  in  this direction.  There are  three  hundred  and sixty degrees on the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty degrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four hours—that is, the day unconsciously gained.

 In other words, while Phileas Fogg, going eastward, saw the  sun  pass  the  meridian  eighty  times, his friends in London only saw it pass the meridian seventy-nine times. This is why they awaited him at the Reform Club on Saturday, and  not  Sunday,  as  Mr.  Fogg thought.

And Passepartout’s famous   family watch, which  had  always  kept  London time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well as the hours and the minutes!

       Phileas Fogg, then, had  won   the twenty  thousand  pounds;  but,  as  he  had spent  nearly nineteen  thousand  on  the way, the pecuniary (financial/ money) gain was small. His object was,  however,  to  be  victorious, and not to win money. He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between Passepartout   and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished (kept) no grudge (complaint). He deducted,  however,  from  Passepartout’s share the cost of the gas which had burned in  his  room  for  nineteen  hundred  and twenty hours, for the sake of regularity.

        That evening, Mr.  Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic (calm)  as  ever, said  to Aouda: “Is our marriage still agreeable to you?”

“Mr. Fogg,” replied she, “it is for me to ask that question. You were ruined, but now you are rich again.”

        “Pardon me,   madam;   my   fortune belongs to you. If you had not suggested our marriage, my servant would not have gone  to  the  Reverend  Samuel  Wilson’s, I  should  not  have  been  apprised (told) of  my error, and—”

     “Dear Mr.  Fogg!” said the young woman.

“Dear Aouda!” replied Phileas Fogg.

     It need not be said that the marriage took place forty-eight hours after, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride away. Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled (special right/ हकदार) to this honour?

          The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout   rapped (knocked)   vigorously   at   his master’s door.  Mr.  Fogg  opened  it,  and asked, “What’s the matter, Passepartout?”

“What is it,  sir?  Why, I’ve just  this instant found out—”

“What?”

“That we might  have  made  the  tour of the world in only seventy-eight days.”

“No doubt,” returned  Mr.  Fogg,  “by not crossing India. But if I had not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have been my wife, and—”

Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.

Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the world in eighty days. To do this he had employed every means of conveyance (transportation)—steamers, railways,    carriages,    yachts (small boat),    trading- vessels (large business boat), sledges,  elephants. The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed  all his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude (exactness). But what then? What had he really gained by all  this  trouble?  What had he brought back from this long and weary journey?

Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!

Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world? “काहीच नाही, असं म्हणता? कदाचित! पण फक्त एक मोहक स्त्री, जिने, जरी ते विचित्र वाटू शकतं, त्याला जगातील सर्वांत सुखी माणूस बनवलं!
खरंच, तुम्ही त्याहून कमी गोष्टीसाठी जगाचा फेरफटका मारणार नाही का?”