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Page 46
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted
by those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium,
to the amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--
thousands devoted to one of the most despicable vices
which afflict humanity! The Chinese government has in vain
attempted to deal with the evil by stringent laws. It passed
gradually from the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved,
to the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested.
Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women,
in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the victims
cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily contortions
and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day;
but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens that Fix
and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found themselves.
Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's invitation
in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample justice,
whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted about the journey,
and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea that Fix was going to
continue it with them. When the bottles were empty, however,
he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the time
of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk
about it to-morrow; I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.
Fix's face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and,
lowering his voice, said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good.
But go on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those
gentlemen have put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that
you don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--
fifty-five thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason
for not losing an instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed:
"Fifty-five thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.
If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied
with following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must
try to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might
as well waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
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