Chapter 13 - In Which Phileas Fogg Descends The Whole Length Of The Beautiful Valleyof The Ganges Without Ever Thinking Of Seeing It
The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartoutlaughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow'shand, and his master said, "Well done!" which, from him, was highcommendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of theaffair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck witha "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouseof a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the youngIndian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing,and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of thehowdahs.
The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, wasadvancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour afterleaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt atseven o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of completeprostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, butthe drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. SirFrancis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication producedby the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But hewas more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told PhileasFogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fallagain into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics werescattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police,recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only besafe by quitting India for ever.
Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and, theinterrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reachCalcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus beable to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the nextday, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station,whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her variousarticles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his mastergave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, andfound 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 thetwo sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attractpilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according tothe legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma'sagency, it descends to the earth.
Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a goodlook at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which hassince become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, andPassepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used tofrequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crustyJew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dressof Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, forwhich he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returnedtriumphantly to the station.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda begangradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyesresumed all their soft Indian expression.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen ofAhmehnagara, he speaks thus:
"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmoniouscontour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow andfreshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama,the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purestreflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes ofHimalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth,fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdropsin a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formedears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as thelotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls ofCeylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supplewaist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of herrounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flowerdisplays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds ofher tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlikehand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda,that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of thephrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had notexaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by herbringing up.
The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded topay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthingmore; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his masterowed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in theadventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by theIndians, 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 alreadydetermined this question.
"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted.I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would youlike to have this elephant? He is yours."
The guide's eyes glistened.
"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be yourdebtor."
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout. "Take him, friend. Kiouni is a braveand faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave himseveral lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartoutaround the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, whichreplaced him gently on the ground.
Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, werewhirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles,and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young womanfully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herselfin this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, andwith travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions firstset about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francisnarrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with whichPhileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, andrecounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result ofPassepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout,abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't worth telling."
Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears thanwords; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, andrecalled the dangers which still menaced 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 mightremain safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which sheeagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly anEnglish city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legendsassert 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 ofIndia, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartoutcaught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect ofdesolation to the place, as the train entered it.
Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he wasrejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He badeadieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hopethat he would come that way again in a less original but moreprofitable fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. Theparting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis,betrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a heartyshake of the hand from the gallant general.
The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley ofthe Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers hadglimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountainsclothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its junglespeopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its stillthickly-leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of thesacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season andchilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These werefervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities beingVishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of naturalforces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. Whatwould these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, withsteamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gullswhich float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, andthe faithful dwelling upon its borders?
The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steamconcealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcelydiscern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares,the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and itsfamous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising onthe left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, alarge manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principalopium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it isas English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries,edgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smokeheavenward.
Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of theroaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before thelocomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour,Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French townof Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see hiscountry's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.
Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left forHong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th ofOctober, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He wastherefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time. The two days gainedbetween London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in thejourney across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Foggregretted them.