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Around the World in Eighty Days

Around the World in Eighty Days

儒勒·凡尔纳

  • science fiction

    Category
  • 1970-01-01Published
  • 126887

    Completed
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Chapter 1 Chapter One: Phileas Fogg and Passepartout Establish a Master-Servant Relationship

In 1872, at No. 7 Severe Street, Bailinton Gardens (the house where Cirdon died in 1816), there lived a Mr. Phileas Fogg, who never seemed to have To do anything conspicuous, and yet he was the most peculiar and conspicuous member of the London Reform Club. Siridon was a great orator, who honored England, but Mr Fogg, who inherited his house, was an elusive figure.As for the details of Mr. Fogg, people only know that he is a bold gentleman, a gentleman in the upper class of England, and nothing else is known at all. Some people say that he looks like Byron—that is, the head is like an elephant, but his feet are not: there is nothing wrong with his feet, but he has a little more beard on his cheeks and mouth than Byron, and he has a gentler temperament than Byron, even if he lives a thousand years. He probably won't change at the age of 20.

Fogg was a true Englishman, but perhaps not a Londoner.You never saw him on the Exchange, you never saw him in a bank, you couldn't find him in any firm in the Business District.In any port in London, or in any wharf in London, the owner's ship named Fokker has never been moored.Nor has this gentleman been present on any of the executive management committees.His name has never been heard in the bar, nor in the middle court, the inner court, the Lincoln court, or the gray court of the four law societies in London.In addition, he has never filed a lawsuit in the Court of the Lord Chancellor, the Queen's Court, the Court of Financial Audit, or the Church Court.He neither runs a factory nor manages or farms; he is neither a broker in negotiations nor a businessman in business.He was neither a member of the Royal Society nor of the London Institution; he was neither a member of the Society of Craftsmen nor of the Russell Institution; he had no place in the Western Literary Society, nor his name in the Law Society; The Federation of Science and Art, which Her Majesty the Benevolent Empress looks directly at, has nothing to do with him.In the British capital, there are many social groups, large and small, from the Armonica Society to the Entomological Society for the purpose of exterminating pests, but Mr. Fogg is not a member of any of them.

Mr. Fogg is just a member of the Improvement Club, see, tell the truth, that's all.If anyone thought it surprising that a man as eccentric as Fogg should belong to such an honorable society as the Reform Club, he would be told that Fogg had been introduced to it by the Baring brothers.He had credit with a deposit at Baring Brothers because he always had money on his books and his checks were always "on demand" as a rule. Is this Mr. Fogg a rich man?No doubt, of course yes.But how did his fortune come about?Even the most well-informed people could not tell the truth about this matter. Only Mr. Fogg knew best, and the best way to inquire about this matter is to ask him himself.Mr. Fogg was never profligate, but he was not stingy either.No matter where there is a lack of funds for public welfare or charity, he always quietly takes out money, even donates money, and does not let people know his name.

All in all, there could never have been a more unsocial gentleman than this gentleman.He spoke as little as possible, and it seemed that because of his reticence, his character became more and more eccentric. However, his life was very regular, and his every move was always precise and regular, always the same.This has aroused people's strange speculations and imaginations about him. Has he ever traveled?This is also very possible.For no one knows as much world geography as he does, and he seems to be familiar with any out-of-the-way place, and sometimes, with a few simple words, he clarifies the rumors circulating in the club about the disappearance or loss of such-and-such a traveler. There are many rumors in the forum.He pointed out the real possibility of these events, and he seemed to have a gift for clairvoyance, and the final results of things generally confirmed the correctness of his views.This man is supposed to be a man who has been everywhere—at least mentally he has been everywhere.

One thing, however, is certain: Mr. Fogg had not left London for many years.Those who knew him a little better than anyone else could attest that no one could claim to have seen him anywhere except the straight road he passed every day on his way from home to the club. His only pastimes were to read the newspaper and play whist, the quiet amusements which suited his nature best.He often wins money, but the money he wins never goes into his own pocket.This sum formed an important part of his charitable budget, and it must be added that this gentleman played cards for fun rather than for money.For him, the game of cards was a kind of jousting, a wrestling against difficulties: but this kind of wrestling required no great movements, no moving steps, and no fatigue.It suits his character perfectly.

Mr. Fogg was known to have no wife or children (which is possible to the overly honest) and no relations or friends (which is, in fact, extremely rare).Mr. Fogg lived alone in his apartment on Savile Street, and never saw anyone visit him.Nothing was ever said about his private life at home.There is only one servant in his house.He ate his lunch and dinner at the club, and he ate at the exact time of clockwork.The place where he eats is always in a fixed restaurant, and he even always sits at a fixed table.He has never invited members of the church, nor has he entertained a foreigner.At exactly twelve o'clock at night he would go home and go to sleep, never having lived in the comfortable bedrooms that the Reform Club provided for its members.Twenty-four hours a day, he stayed at home for ten hours, either sleeping or washing up.When he moved about in the club it was in the parquet-floored hall or in the cloister.The upper part of this corridor is covered with a vault of blue stained glass, and below it is supported by twenty Greek Ionic columns of red cloud porphyry.For dinner and lunch, the club kitchen, larder, food supply, fish supply, and dairy always brought him good, nutritious food; shoes, a dignified waiter, who always brought him a fancy set of vessels on a beautifully patterned tablecloth from Sachs; , Portuguese claret, or rosé wine with cinnamon bark, fern, and cinnamon;

If people who live this way are eccentric, it must be admitted that this eccentricity has its own pleasures. The residences on Savile Street were not grand, but they were comfortable.Because the master's living habits never change, there are not many things that need to be done by the servant.But Mr. Fogg required his only servant to be methodical, precise, and regular in his daily work.On October 2, Mr. Fogg dismissed his servant, James Foster, for the sole reason that he should have brought hot water for his master's shaving at eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit. But what he sent was hot water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit.Now Frost is waiting for a new servant to replace him.The man should come between eleven and half past eleven.

Mr. Fogg sat on the easy chair, with his feet together like a soldier on parade, his hands on his knees, his body straightened up, his head held up, and he watched the hands of the wall clock with all his attention. A complex machine that counts time, minutes, seconds, days, weeks, months, and years.It was his daily custom to leave home for the Reform Club as soon as the clock struck half-past eleven. At that moment Mr. Fogg heard a knock at the door in the little drawing-room. The same James Foster who had been dismissed walked in. "Here comes the new servant," he said. A young man of about thirty came in and saluted Mr. Fogg.

"Are you French? Is your name John?" asked Mr. Fogg. "My name is John, if the master has no objection," replied the new servant, "passepartout is my nickname. By this name, I can say that I have a natural ability to do things. I am confident, sir. I am still an honest man, but to be honest, I have done many kinds of industries. I have been a singer who broke through the rivers and lakes, and a circus performer. I danced on the rope like Dragon Dan; later, in order to make my talents more effective, I worked as a sports coach. Finally, I was the monitor of the fire brigade in Paris. During this experience, I also saved several dangerous The fire. However, it has been five years since I left France. Because I wanted to taste the life of a housekeeper, I became a domestic servant in England. I have no job now. I know that you, Mr. Fogg, are from the United Kingdom. The person who is most particular about accuracy and loves quietness the most, so I come to you. I hope I can have a peaceful meal in your house, and I hope I can forget everything in the past, even my name Passepartout... ..."

"The name Passepartout is quite to my liking," replied the master; "I have been told about you. I know you have many qualities. Do you know the terms of employment with me?" "Yes, sir." "That's good, what time is your watch now?" Passepartout reached for a large silver watch from the watch pocket on his trousers, and replied: "Twenty-two past eleven." "Your watch is slow," said Mr. Fogg. "Please don't be offended, sir, my watch is never slow." "Your watch is four minutes behind. But it doesn't matter, you just need to remember the time difference. Well, from now on, Wednesday, October 2, 1872 at 11:29 in the morning, you will be My servant."

After saying this, Mr. Fogg stood up, picked up the hat with his left hand, put it on his head with a mechanical movement, and walked away without a word. Passepartout heard the door shut for the first time: it was his new master going out.After a while, the sound of the door being closed for the second time was heard again: this was the original servant James Foster going out. Passepartout was now alone in his apartment in the Rue Saville.
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