|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 22
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity
drew him unconsciously farther off than he intended to go.
At last, having seen the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance,
he was turning his steps towards the station, when he happened
to espy the splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill, and was seized with
an irresistible desire to see its interior. He was quite ignorant
that it is forbidden to Christians to enter certain Indian temples,
and that even the faithful must not go in without first leaving their
shoes outside the door. It may be said here that the wise policy
of the British Government severely punishes a disregard of the practices
of the native religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,
and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation
which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself sprawling
on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enraged priests,
who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to beat him
with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soon upon his feet
again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his long-gowned
adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of his toes;
then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could carry him,
he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd in the streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless,
and having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes,
rushed breathlessly into the station.
Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he
was really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform.
He had resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta,
and farther, if necessary. Passepartout did not observe the
detective, who stood in an obscure corner; but Fix heard him
relate his adventures in a few words to Mr. Fogg.
"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly,
as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen,
followed his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering
another carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
"No, I'll stay," muttered he. "An offence has been committed on Indian soil.
I've got my man."
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out
into the darkness of the night.
Chapter XI
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS OF CONVEYANCE
AT A FABULOUS PRICE
The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were
a number of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo
merchants, whose business called them to the eastern coast.
Passepartout rode in the same carriage with his master, and a
third passenger occupied a seat opposite to them. This was
Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's whist partners
on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps at Benares.
Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatly
distinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt. He made India
his home, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals;
and was almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history,
and character of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg, who was
not travelling, but only describing a circumference, took no pains
to inquire into these subjects; he was a solid body, traversing
an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the laws
of rational mechanics. He was at this moment calculating in his mind
the number of hours spent since his departure from London, and,
had it been in his nature to make a useless demonstration,
would have rubbed his hands for satisfaction. Sir Francis Cromarty
had observed the oddity of his travelling companion--although the
only opportunity he had for studying him had been while he was
dealing the cards, and between two rubbers--and questioned himself
whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold exterior,
and whether Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of nature.
The brigadier-general was free to mentally confess that,
of all the eccentric persons he had ever met, none was comparable
to this product of the exact sciences.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|