Kitobni o'qish: «Вокруг света за 80 дней / Around the World in Eighty Days»
© Матвеев С. А., адаптация текста, комментарии, словарь
© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2021
Jules Verne
Around the world in eighty days
Chapter I
Mr. Phileas Fogg1 was an Englishman and lived in London. He was a noticeable member of the Reform Club2. He did not go to the Change3, nor to the Bank, nor to the “City”. He did not have ships at London docks; he had no public employment; his voice did not resound in the Court of Chancery4. He certainly was not a manufacturer; he wasn’t a merchant or a farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies. He did not belong to the numerous societies in the English capital. Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him could not imagine how he made his fortune5. Mr. Fogg was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious. If money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He talked very little. His daily habits were quite open to observation.
Did he travel? It was likely, for no one knew the world more familiarly. He liked to read the papers and play whist. He often won at this game, which harmonised with his nature. But his winnings never went into his purse. They were reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but to play. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty.
Phileas Fogg had no wife or children. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at fixed hours, in the same room, at the same table. He never took his meals with6 other members. He went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row. The mansion in Saville Row was exceedingly comfortable. Phileas Fogg required his servant to be very prompt and regular. On the 2nd of October he dismissed James Forster7, because that luckless youth brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit8 instead of eighty-six9. He was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and half-past.
Phileas Fogg sat squarely in his armchair, his feet close together, his hands on his knees, his body straight, his head erect. He was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. A rap sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where Phileas Fogg sat. James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man advanced and bowed10. He was about thirty years old.
“You are a Frenchman, I think,” asked Phileas Fogg, “and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases,” replied the newcomer, “Jean Passepartout11. I had several trades. I was an itinerant singer12, a circus-rider13, when I danced on a rope. Then I was a professor of gymnastics; and then I was a sergeant fireman14 at Paris. But I quitted France five years ago, and took service as a valet here in England.”
“Passepartout,” responded Mr. Fogg, “I heard a good report of you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned Passepartout. He drew an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
“Your watch is too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible.”
“Four minutes slow. No matter; it’s enough to mention the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
Chapter II
“Oh,” muttered Passepartout, “I saw people at Madame Tussaud’s15 as lively as my new master!” (Madame Tussaud’s “people” are of wax).
Mr. Fogg was a perfect Englishman. He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical. He always went to his destination by the short cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world. He lived alone, and outside of every social relation.
As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris16. He abandoned17 his own country for England, took service as a valet. Passepartout was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises.
Passepartout heard that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant. He was sure that this was the place for him. He presented himself, and was accepted.
At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone18 in the house in Saville Row. He began its inspection19 without delay. The clean, well-arranged, solemn mansion pleased him. It seemed to him like a snail’s shell, lighted and warmed by gas. He suddenly observed a card – a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning: exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club – all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated.
“This is just what I wanted! – said Passepartout – Mr. Fogg is a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine!”
Chapter III
Phileas Fogg shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and reached the Reform Club, and took his place at the habitual table20. He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace. They were Mr. Fogg’s usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart21, an engineer; John Sullivan22 and Samuel Fallentin23, bankers; Thomas Flanagan24, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph25, one of the Directors of the Bank of England-all rich and highly respectable personages.
“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”
“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will lose the money.”
“No,” broke in Ralph, “I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives are in all principal ports of America and the Continent. The criminal will be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.”
“Do you have the robber’s description?” asked Stuart.
“First, he is no robber at all,” returned Ralph, positively.
“What! a fellow who makes off26 fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?”
“No.”
“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”
“The Daily Telegraph27 says that he is a gentleman.”
Phileas Fogg bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation. The affair occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, disappeared from the principal cashier’s28 table, who was registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he can’t notice everything. And the Bank of England has no guards to protect its treasures.
When the robbery was discovered, many detectives ran to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York29, and other ports. The reward was two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the sum! Detectives were watching those who arrived at or left London.
As the Daily Telegraph said, the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners30 was in the paying room. His description was sent to the detectives. Everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit. The Reform Club was especially agitated.
“I think,” said Stuart, “that the chances are in favour of31 the thief. He must be a shrewd32 fellow.”
“Well, but where will he go?” asked Ralph. “No country is safe for him.”
“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”
“It was once,” said Phileas Fogg.
“What do you mean by `once`? Is the world small now?”
“Certainly,” returned Ralph. “I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world is small now. A man can now go round it ten times more quickly than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief will succeed.”
“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”
Stuart said eagerly:
“Is the world small indeed? Because you can go round it in three months…”
“In eighty days,” interrupted Phileas Fogg.
“That is true, gentlemen,” added John Sullivan. “Only eighty days. Here is the estimate made by the Daily Telegraph:
From London to Suez via Mont Cenis and Brindisi33, by rail and steamboats – 7 days
From Suez to Bombay34, by steamer – 13”
From Bombay to Calcutta35, by rail – 3”
From Calcutta to Hong Kong36, by steamer – 13”
From Hong Kong to Yokohama37 (Japan), by steamer – 6”
From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer – 22”
From San Francisco to New York, by rail – 7”
From New York to London, by steamer and rail – 9”
Total – 80 days.”
“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart. “But think about bad weather, contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on. The Hindoos or Indians can stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans38, and scalp the passengers.”
“All included39,” returned Phileas Fogg.
“You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically-”
“Practically also, Mr. Stuart. Shall we go?”
“No! But I will wager four thousand pounds that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”
“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.
“Well, make it, then!”
“The journey round the world in eighty days?”
“Yes. When?”
“At once. Only I warn you that you pay for it.”
“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was annoyed at the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s play. Mr. Fogg, I will wager the four thousand on it.”
“My dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”
“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.”
“All right,” said Mr. Fogg; and continued: “I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s40 which I will willingly risk upon it.”
“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds, which you will lose by a single accidental delay!”
“No,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
“But, Mr. Fogg, in order not to exceed it, you must jump from the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again – very fast.”
“I will jump.”
“You are joking.”
“A true Englishman doesn’t joke when he is talking about serious things,” replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly. “I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone who wants me to make the tour of the world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?”
“We accept,” replied Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph.
“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover41 at a quarter before nine. I will take it.”
“Tonight?” asked Stuart.
“Tonight,” returned Phileas Fogg.
He took out and consulted a pocket calender, and added,
“As today is Wednesday, the 2nd of October, I shall be in London in this very room of the Reform Club, on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine p.m.; or else the twenty thousand pounds will belong to you, gentlemen. Here is a cheque.”
Chapter IV
Phileas Fogg won twenty guineas at whist and left the Reform Club at twenty-five minutes past seven. Mr. Fogg entered his bedroom, and called out, “Passepartout!”
Passepartout did not reply.
“Passepartout!” repeated Mr. Fogg.
Passepartout appeared.
“I called you twice,” observed his master.
“But it is not midnight,” responded the other.
“I know it; I don’t blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten minutes.”
A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face. He did not comprehend his master.
“Monsieur will leave home?”
“Yes,” returned Phileas Fogg. “We will go round the world.”
Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands. He was stupefied.
“Round the world!” he murmured.
“In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg. “So no time to lose.”
“But the baggage?” gasped Passepartout.
“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag42, with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We’ll buy our clothes on the way.”
Passepartout tried to reply, but was silent. He went out, mounted to his own room, and fell into a chair. Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then?
Eight o’clock. Passepartout packed the carpet-bag, carefully shut the door of his room, and descended to Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was quite ready. He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a roll of Bank of England notes.
“Didn’t you forget anything?” asked he.
“Nothing, monsieur.”
“Good! Take this carpet-bag. There are twenty thousand pounds in it.”
They then descended, and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross43. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout followed his master, who was ready to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, approached, and mournfully asked for alms.
Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas and handed them to the beggar,
“Here, my good woman. I’m glad that I met you.”
Passepartout saw it; his master’s action touched his susceptible heart. Mr. Fogg bought two first-class tickets for Paris, and then perceived his five friends of the Reform.
“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I go, you see; and you will be able to examine my passport when I get back.”
“Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,” said Ralph politely. “We will trust your word.”
“You do not forget when you are in London again?” asked Stuart.
“In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.”
Phileas Fogg and his servant sat in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine. Five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.
Chapter V
Phileas Fogg did not suspect that his departure from London created a lively sensation at the West End44. The news of the bet soon got into the papers throughout England. They talked, disputed, argued about his “tour of the world”. Many people shook their heads and declared against him. It was absurd, impossible – in this minimum of time! People in general thought him a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for this wager.
A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared to say, “Why not, after all? Stranger things happened.” Everybody knows that to bet is in the English temperament. Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made wagers for or against Phileas Fogg. He became a race-horse. But everybody was against Fogg, and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one.
A week after his departure an incident occurred. The commissioner of police was in his office at nine o’clock one evening, when the following telegraphic dispatch arrived:
“Suez to London.
Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard45:
I found the bank robber, Phileas Fogg. Send with out delay warrant of arrest46 to Bombay.
Fix, Detective”.
The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman disappeared to give place to the bank robber. The mysterious habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden departure.
Chapter VI
The circumstances were as follows. The steamer Mongolia47 plied regularly between Brindisi and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers.
Two men walked up and down the wharves, among the crowd of natives and strangers. One was the British consul at Suez. The other was a small personage, with a nervous, intelligent face and bright eyes. He was nervously paced up and down, and was unable to stand still for a moment. This was Fix, one of the detectives. Fix came from to catch the bank robber. It was his task to watch every passenger who arrived at Suez, and to follow up all suspicious characters. The detective hoped to obtain the splendid reward, and awaited with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the steamer Mongolia.
“So you say, consul,” said he, “that this steamer comes directly from Brindisi?”
“Directly from Brindisi. Have patience, Mr. Fix; it will not be late. But really, I don’t see how, from the description you have, you will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the Mongolia.”
“A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than recognises them. You must have a scent for them – hearing, seeing, and smelling. If my thief is on board, he’ll not slip through my fingers.”
“I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery.”
“A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds!”
“Mr. Fix,” said the consul, “I hope you’ll succeed; but what about your description?”
“Consul,” remarked the detective, dogmatically, “great robbers always resemble honest folks. To unmask honest countenances, it’s a difficult task, I admit.”
Soon Mongolia appeared. It brought many passengers, some of whom remained on deck. Fix carefully examined each face. Presently one of the passengers came up to him and politely asked about the English consulate. Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance read the description of its bearer. An involuntary motion of surprise nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical with that of the bank robber from Scotland Yard.
“Is this your passport?” asked he.
“No, it’s my master’s.”
“And your master is…”
“He stayed on board.”
“But he must go to the consul’s in person.”
“Oh, is that necessary?”
“Quite indispensable.”
“And where is the consulate?”
“There, on the corner of the square,” said Fix.
“I’ll go and fetch my master.”
The passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.
Chapter VII
The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly came to the consul’s office.
“Consul,” said he, without preamble48, “I think that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia.”
“Well, Mr. Fix,” replied the consul, “I want to see the rascal’s face; but perhaps he won’t come here. A robber doesn’t like to leave traces.”
“If he is shrewd, consul, he will come.”
“To have his passport visaed49?”
“Yes. And I hope you will not visa the passport.”
“Why not? If the passport is genuine50 I have no right to refuse.”
“Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest him from London.”
“Ah, that’s your business. But I cannot…”
The consul did not finish his sentence. They heard a knock at the door, and two strangers entered. One of whom was the servant. The other was his master, and held out his passport. The consul took the document and carefully read it.
“You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?” said the consul.
“I am.”
“And this man is your servant?”
“He is: a Frenchman, named Passepartout.”
“You are from London?”
“Yes.”
“And you are going…”
“To Bombay.”
“Very good, sir. You know that a visa is useless, and that no passport is required?”
“I know it, sir,” replied Phileas Fogg; “but I wish to prove, by your visa, that I came by Suez.”
“Very well, sir.”
The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he added his official seal. Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee and went out. His servant followed him.
“Well?” queried51 the detective.
“Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man,” replied the consul.
“Possibly. Do you think, consul, that this phlegmatic gentleman resembles the robber?”
“I concede that; but then, you know…”
“I’ll see,” interrupted Fix. “The servant is less mysterious than the master. Besides, he’s a Frenchman, and likes to talk. Excuse me, consul.”
Chapter VIII
Fix soon rejoined Passepartout on the quay.
“Well, my friend,” said the detective, “is your passport visaed?”
“Ah, it’s you, monsieur?” responded Passepartout. “Thanks, yes, the passport is all right. We travel so fast! So this is Suez?”
“Yes.”
“In Egypt?”
“Certainly, in Egypt.”
“And in Africa?”
“In Africa.”
“In Africa!” repeated Passepartout.
“You are in a great hurry, then?”
“I am not, but my master is. I must buy some shoes and shirts. We came away only with a carpet-bag.”
“I will show you an excellent shop.”
“Really, monsieur, you are very kind.”
And they walked off together. After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed:
“You left London hastily, then?”
“I think so! Last Friday at eight o’clock in the evening, Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour afterwards we were off.”
“But where will your master go?”
“Always straight ahead, round the world.”
“Round the world?” cried Fix.
“Yes, and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager; but I don’t believe it. There’s something else.”
“Ah! Is Mr. Fogg rich?”
“No doubt. He carries new banknotes with him. And he offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to Bombay very fast.”
“Do you know your master well?”
“No; I entered his service the very day we left London.”
The hasty departure from London soon after the robbery; the large sum that Mr. Fogg had; his eagerness52 to reach distant countries-all confirmed Fix in his theory. He continued to ask poor Passepartout, and learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who lived in London, was rich, and was mysterious. Phileas Fogg won’t land at Suez, but will go to Bombay.
“Is Bombay far from here?” asked Passepartout.
“Yes. Ten days’ voyage by sea.”
“And in what country is Bombay?”
“India.”
“In Asia?”
“Certainly.”
Fix and Passepartout reached the shop, where Fix left his companion and hurried back to the consulate. Now he was fully convinced.
“Consul,” said he, “I have no doubt. That man wants to go round the world in eighty days.”
“Then he’s a smart fellow,” returned the consul.
Fix reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation with Passepartout.
“So,” said the consul, “what will you do?”
“I’ll send a dispatch to London, follow my rogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him.”
Bepul matn qismi tugad.
