ornamented with false pearls.
At eight o’clock the train stopped in the midst of a glade – fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows, and workmen’s cabins. The conductor shouted,
“Passengers will get out here!”
Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but the general did not tell what that meant. Passepartout rushed out and speedily returned. He cried,
“Monsieur, no more railway!”
“What do you mean?” asked Sir Francis.
“I mean to say that the train isn’t going on.”
The general stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed him. They proceeded together to the conductor.
“Where are we?” asked Sir Francis.
“At the hamlet of Kholby[64].”
“Do we stop here?”
“Certainly. The railway isn’t finished.”
“What! not finished?”
“No. There’s still fifty miles from here to Allahabad, where the line begins again.”
“But the papers announced the railway.”
“So what, officer? The papers were mistaken.”
“Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta,” retorted Sir Francis.
“No doubt[65],” replied the conductor; “but the passengers know that they must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to Allahabad.”
Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout did not dare to look at his master.
“Sir Francis,” said Mr. Fogg quietly, “we will, if you please, look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad.”
“Mr. Fogg, what a delay!”
“No, Sir Francis; it’s nothing.”
“What! You knew that the way…”
“Not at all; but I know that some obstacle or other will sooner or later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in time.”
Many travelers were aware of this interruption, and they began to engage wagons, carriages, palanquins, ponies, and so on. Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty did not find anything.
“I shall walk,” said Phileas Fogg.
Passepartout said,
“Monsieur, I think I found something.”
“What?”
“An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives a hundred steps from here.”
“Let’s go and see the elephant,” replied Mr. Fogg.
They soon reached a small hut. An Indian came out of the hut. His elephant was half domesticated. Kiouni[66]-this was the name of the beast-could travel rapidly for a long time. Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are not cheap in India. When Mr. Fogg proposed to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused. Mr. Fogg persisted. Ten pounds an hour for the loan of the beast to Allahabad? Refused. Twenty pounds? Refused also. Forty pounds? Still refused.
Phileas Fogg then proposed to purchase the animal, and at first offered a thousand pounds for him. The Indian still refused. His small, sharp eyes were glistening with avarice. Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
“What a price, good heavens!” cried Passepartout, “for an elephant.”
It only remained now to find a guide, which was easy. A young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr. Fogg accepted. The Parsee, a good elephant driver, covered the elephant’s back with a saddle-cloth, and attached to each of his flanks some uncomfortable howdahs. Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some banknotes which he extracted from the famous carpet-bag.
They purchased provisions at Kholby. The Parsee perched himself on the elephant’s neck, and at nine o’clock they left the village. The animal marched through the dense forest of palms.
Chapter XII
At eleven o’clock the guide stopped the elephant, and gave it an hour for rest. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay.
At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The travelers several times saw bands of ferocious Indians. The Parsee avoided them as much as possible. But what will Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he gets to Allahabad? Will he carry it on with him? Impossible! The cost will be very expensive. Will he sell it, or set it free?
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few dry branches. The warmth was very grateful. The travelers ate their supper ravenously.
At six o’clock in the morning they woke up. The guide hoped to reach Allahabad by evening. The guide avoided inhabited places. Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stopped under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which was as healthy as bread and as succulent as cream.
At two o’clock the guide entered a thick forest. The elephant suddenly stopped. It was then four o’clock.
“What’s the matter?” asked Sir Francis.
“I don’t know, officer,” replied the Parsee.
He listened attentively to a murmur which came through the thick branches. The murmur soon became more distinct. It now seemed like a distant concert of human voices with brass instruments. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree. He soon returned:
“A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must go aside, if possible.”
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into the wood. The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and the songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals. The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred paces away. The strange figures who performed the religious ceremony were among the branches. First came the priests, in long robes, with mitres on their heads. Men, women, and children surrounded them. They sang a lugubrious psalm and played tambourines and cymbals. Behind them there was a car[67] with large wheels. The spokes of the car represented serpents. Upon the car, stood a hideous statue with four arms, red body, haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, and protruding tongue.
Sir Francis recognised the statue and whispered,
“The goddess Kali; the goddess of love and death.”
“Of death, perhaps,” muttered Passepartout, “but of love-that ugly old hag? Never!”
A
hamlet of Kholby – посёлок Кольби
No doubt – Без сомнения
Kiouni – Киуни
car – колесница
