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He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He remembered that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed his master of that fact, and that he had not done so. It was his fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer.
His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he had five or six days in which to decide upon his future course. He fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and himself. He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert, where nothing to eat was to be looked for. At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama.
Passepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never too late." It was five minutes past eight. "Will it be for tomorrow, Monday?" "For tomorrow, Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda. "Yes, for tomorrow, Monday," she replied. Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him. In Which Phileas Fogg's Name Is Once More at a Premium on the Market
Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout set foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the floating quay upon which they disembarked. These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels.
He had found in the letter-box a bill from the gas company, and he thought it more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he had been doomed to bear. The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep? Aouda did not once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, like a faithful dog, at his master's door. Mr.
He sat several minutes without speaking, then, bending his eyes on Aouda, "Madam," he said, "will you pardon me for bringing you to England?" "I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart. "Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg.
The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the south-west. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew. Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he accepted with secret chagrin.
Passepartout wept till he was blind and felt like blowing his brains out. Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place. Both were anxious to see Mr. Fogg again. That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal.
Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue bruise. "Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of the crowd. "No thanks are necessary," replied Fix, "but let us go." "Where?" "To a tailor's." Such a visit was, indeed, necessary. The clothing of both Mr.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes resumed all their soft Indian expression.
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